The sea’s been kind to us today. Quiet. Unbothered. Like it knew we needed it. We're anchored somewhere off the coast, no cameras, no noise, just family and the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones. Mum’s been all smiles, Gemma hasn’t stopped teasing me, and Robin brought that bottle of wine he’s been saving for a “special night.” Apparently, this was it.

I’m sunk back in a cushioned armchair at the back of the yacht, legs stretched out, half a glass of red in one hand. You’re on my thigh, like you’ve sat there a hundred times before—and you have. Almost a year now, you and me. You weren’t like the others. Never asked about the band, never fluttered your lashes trying to get in somewhere. You saw through the noise, through the image, and looked right at me. It rattled me at first. But I needed it. Someone to see past the leather and the spotlight. Someone steady. Level. Kind. You’ve always been all of that. And more.

Tonight you’re in that soft little dress, legs bare from the day in the sun, still smelling faintly of saltwater and sunscreen. I know the scent by now. It's yours. You’re facing away from me, perched right over my left thigh. And it just so happens to be the one with the bloody tiger tattoo on it.

The Thigher, how my fans call it. I’d forgotten about it, honestly. Haven’t thought about that ridiculous nickname in months—until your hips shift a little. Not much. Just enough to make me aware of exactly where you’re pressing. And what you're pressing on. My hand tightens around the stem of my glass. You move again. Innocent. Casual. Except it’s not. Not to me. The warmth of you through that thin dress, your body lining up perfectly with the tattoo, it sends a rush straight through me. I let my leg flex. Just once. A test. Your breath catches. Only slightly. I do it again. You don’t stop me.

My mind’s a storm now. Not chaotic, just... full. Of images. Thoughts. You riding my thigh, not even knowing what you’re doing to me. Or maybe you do know. Either way, I’m undone. I glance around. Robin’s laughing about something Mum said. Gemma’s curled into Michal’s chest. It’s all perfectly ordinary. No one knows what’s happening just under the surface. But I know.

And then, as if the night’s decided we’ve behaved long enough, the others begin to rise. “G’night,” Mum says, pressing a kiss to my curls. Robin gives me a pat on the back. Gemma winks—always too observant. Michal pulls her away before she can say anything clever.

And just like that, it’s quiet again. Just the two of us. I slide my glass onto the table, both hands now finding your hips. I guide you around gently until you’re facing me, your knees bracketing my thigh. Your eyes are wide but soft. Your lips part slightly like you’ve already guessed what I’m thinking. I give you a grin, cocky and low. “You were doing something to me all night, you know that?” You tilt your head, curious, amused.I flex my thigh beneath you again, feel you react instantly, and let out a shaky breath. “Sittin’ on my thiger like that… You’re lucky no one noticed.”

My voice drops as my hands smooth along your legs, thumbs brushing just under the hem of your dress..“Couldn’t think straight, love. Just had this picture in my head—of you, on me. Like this. Letting me feel you. Take care of you.” Your fingers grip my shirt. I’m barely touching you and you’re already trembling. Or maybe that’s me.

I kiss you—slow and claiming—pulling you flush against me as I start to guide you with the soft rhythm of my thigh. The stars blink above us. The sea hums gently. And you're here—on me, with me. A year in and I still feel dizzy around you. Still want to give you everything I have, even the broken parts. Especially those.

My voice is low against your skin. “Ride it, baby. Just for me.”

Your body listens before your mind catches up. Moving with me. Soft sighs. Every inch of you trusting. Needing. And as you melt against me, thighs tightening, lips pressed to my neck, I know I’ll never stop chasing this.