All hands and feet on board

Zenza steered his boat out past the marina while Addison lounged on the bow cushions. The moment the last buildings slipped below the horizon she caught his eye and they both felt the switch flip. "Get naked," he ordered the deckhand, who fled below without a word. "Clothes off and everything else stays on the dock too." Addison laughed, but kicked off her sandals first. The sun hit her bare soles and Zenza forgot the wind, the wheel, and the open water. He dropped the anchor in the middle of nothing and crossed the deck in three strides. Then he grabbed both of her ankles, pushed them up toward the cabin top so those perfect feet pointed straight at the sky, and knelt. The crew piped down fast after that. Addison stayed where he’d put her, legs spread, arms behind her head, offering everything—arch, heel, ankle, calf, thigh—and Zenza took the offering slowly, starting at the tips of her toes and working his way upward until the whole cabin sounded like someone had cut the sea wind with chains.