THANK YOU SO MUCH, I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ONE. AND I PROMISE TO TRY NOT MENTION ANYTHING NEGATIVE ANYMORE, THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Your breakfast is served, madame," I say to Kate proudly, handing her one of the 3 plates with eggs on buttered toast.

She moans happily, accepting the plate while grabbing a knife and fork. She ends up sitting on the stool up at the breakfast counter, digging in. I grab my own plate and a fork and knife after putting Christian's breakfast in the microwave so he can heat it up once he's done showering.

"This is real good," Kate murmurs happily, her mouth full of toast and egg.

"Thanks. I'm pleased you think so." We spend a few minutes eating our breakfast in content happiness, our forks and knives scratching against the porcelain plate loudly. Then I remember how she acted in front of her dad. I know it probably isn't my place to say it, but I feel somebody probably should. Anyway, we're best friends. I figure we can say anything to each other without easily offending. "You know, you should maybe try taking it easier on your dad, Kate?"

Kate stares at me while she chews slowly. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I mean, he... he's probably been through a lot, especially with what happened with your mom. You should maybe go easier on him?"

"Maybe." She shrugs after swallowing, licking her lips. "But he knows I'm just teasing. It's what we do, me and my dad. We tease."

I'm not so sure it felt like harmless teasing, what she said about him though. "Well, make sure he knows that, won't you?" I murmur through my own mouthful of toasted bread.

I can feel myself going warm beneath Kate's green-eyed scrutiny. "Why would you care so much?" she asks, but she sounds curious more than anything.

"I don't know." I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. Of course I wouldn't tell her about what I witnessed, how her father was crying over her mom one night, how vulnerable he was. "I just do, I guess."

"We've always been that way, pretty much. Dad knows I'm always just playing around," she explains, reaching over the counter for an old glass in the sink. She fills it up with water, sipping it down quickly. "These eggs are cooked really good," she adds after putting the glass down. "You're a master at cooking." I feel like that's her subtle hint to drop it about her father and the way she treats him. I take her hint.

I laugh off her words with another shrug, "I try my best."

It takes all my concentration to keep my eyes on nothing else but the yolk smearing around my plate when Mr Grey, I mean Christian, enters the room.

"Something looks good," he murmurs, obviously talking about the eggs and toast I've made us all.

"I know, right?" Kate speaks up, saving me from having to talk myself. Instead, I focus on eating and enjoying my latest breakfast creation. "Ana put your plate in the microwave so you can heat it up, too. Yours has probably gone cold."

"Thank you," Christian murmurs in what sounds like pleasure. "I'm looking forward to this." I hear the microwave beep as he sets the time, then his breakfast starts on heating.

"Your welcome," I whisper, though I have to wonder whether he's noticed that I'm unable to look at him directly. The timer goes off, so he opens the microwave, grabbing his plate out. I still can't glance his way as he squeezes in beside Kate, collecting his silverware.

"Dad, you really need to hire Ana to be your house chef," Kate says teasingly.

I laugh at her comment, although I'm not completely sure whether it's a forced one or not.

"I wish," Christian replies with a sigh. "Wouldn't that be the life?"

I make my error, glancing past Kate at her father. I always have difficulty not watching the man while he eats. There is just something inexplainable about the way he does it that seems so automatically sensual. I know it's stupid, but I cannot look away. I stare as he meticulously slices the corners off his toast after piercing each egg with his fork so that the yolk runs everywhere on the bread. When he spears his fork through a toast slice, he pushes it into his mouth, savoring the meal I've cooked for him with a hum. When will I ever stop being so stupid when it comes to Kate's father?

And after our latest conversation before she interrupted us, how he confessed to me that he's starting to date again, I can't help feeling ridiculously upset and disappointed. Maybe that's why I can't seem to keep up with trivial, fun and light conversation this morning, like I usually do when I wake of a morning while sleeping over at the Grey's house?

In a way, I am so happy that he's beginning to date again. If anyone deserves to be happy in life, I know it's him and I know it will do him some good, definitely. I know that Christian would make an amazing partner to any woman he deems worthy.

Yet, at the same time, I feel so selfish and unreasonably upset, like... why can't it be me?

Of course, it can't be me. I'm too young for him. He's older than me, plus I'm close to his daughter. Of course realistically it could never be me, but it still hurts.

"What are you girl's up to today?" Christian speaks, in that spine-shuddering voice of his. I hate that I like everything about him so much, particularly the way his voice is. It's just not fair.

Kate answers for me. "We haven't got any plans as yet." To my dismay, she tries to get me to join their conversation, "Ana?"

I shrug again while deliberately shoving a large mouthful of egg inside my mouth as an excuse so I won't have to speak. It seems to work, because Christian is off with suggestions.

"Well, I was actually thinking of taking Grace out for a whirl?" Christian says meaningfully, and to my confusion, Kate seems to straighten up in her stool in excitement.

"Oh, my God," Kate mutters, her voice shaking with unconcealed excitement. I peer over at her in confusion. What is he even talking about? Grace? "Can we, dad? It would be so much fun and Ana hasn't exactly been on it yet!"

I haven't? I haven't been on what yet?

"Well, it is an incredibly nice day for it, and I'd be more than happy to take you both out with me?"

"Been on what yet?" I ask Kate nervously when we head upstairs to get ready. "What did you mean by that? What do you both want to do?" Kate suggests I wear something warm and practical shoes, but I have no idea why she is telling me to do that.

"The Grace is my dad's boat," Kate explains while searching through her wardrobe. It suddenly makes sense then. Oh. It's a boat. "He doesn't take me out very often. Please, can we go? I want to show you it?"

"Okay," I agree, somewhat cautiously. Me, with boats, is not a very good combination. I remember once my mother's ex-boyfriend had convinced me to go fishing with him while we were on holiday. I'd puked my guts out barely after 10 minutes of leaving the land. It was embarrassing.

But for some foolish reason, I keep my sea and motion sickness to myself. Kate seems really excited, and admittedly, I would love to see what Christian's boat looks like.

I'm happy wearing my woolen white cardigan because I know it's bound to be breezy and cold. But then Kate hauls out a pair of white, extremely short shorts. As in above-thigh-length shorts for me.

"Here, wear these," she begs, then she finds a yellow pair for herself.

"I don't know, Kate. These are too short. You got anything else?" I have never been one, like Kate to be all that confident with my body. My legs are definitely not my favorite part of myself; My legs are too thin and scrawny, too pale. And I bruise easily.

"I'm wearing shorts as well," she assures me. "And it's meant to be warm out."

"Fine," I murmur, cringing at the length of them still. But I give in, sliding out of my pajama bottoms and into the shorts. Even wearing them as I button them up, they feel too short and I feel too exposed with my legs.

But they'll have to do.

Just as I predicted, it's cold as Christian finally finds a place to park near the marina. We all climb out of the car, and Kate and I huddle close, shivering in our shorts as Christian leads the way to his boat. But as unpleasantly cold as it is, the suns still out and brightly shining. There is a large number of boats docked on the marina. I wonder which one is his.

I get my answer when he stops at one. I know nothing about boats, of course, but it's quite big. And painted white, with The Grace written in cursive in blue paint. It's probably the nicest boat here.

"Isn't she nice?" Kate says at my side. "She's one of dad's obsessions."

"She's beautiful," I murmur in amazement.

"We ready to come aboard?" Christian speaks loudly over the wind, capturing our attention. He's already stepped onto the boat. Kate goes first, letting her dad help her over onto it. Then he outstretches his hand, ready to help me. I think I catch his gaze trailing down my exposed, pasty legs, but I might be mistaken.

I feel my heart pick up in speed as, awkwardly, I take his hand. I step over, and then he lets me go, and I follow Kate while trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks as she shows me around.

She shows me a cabin area, which has an L-shaped creme sofa, and directly across from it, is a window that shows the beautiful view of the marina. To the left of us, is a kitchen. Everything is spotless and well maintained. There's even a fully functioning bathroom and a sleep area with a large bed. I can't help wondering whether her father has had women sleep with him in that bed very often. His ex wife. The thought makes me weirdly ill.

Suddenly, there's a daunting vibration that passes through the boat and I stare at Kate, wide-eyed. She only laughs at me.

"Relax, it's just dad getting the boat started."

"He knows how to steer and operate this thing?"

"Of course he does. We're safe. Trust me."

Following Kate back out, we step carefully over to where her dad is. I realize the boat is already moving, gliding smoothly away from its parking place in the marina. I find Kate's father standing by a large wheel and panel that has all these different dials and buttons. And just like that, I have found another reason why I find him to be so amazing.

He handles and drives the boat with ease, with expertise. He looks so relaxed and comfortable; The sea breeze ruffling his hair around, his shirt. I watch the sails ahead of us as they flap boisterously in the wind, the large expanse of sea opening up around us. It's so amazing, but that sensation... that pitching sensation, that back-and-forth rocking. I can feel the nausea beginning to settle in already.

"You girl's enjoying yourselves?" I hear Christian scream over the roaring wind.

Water splashes over the side of the boat, and then I hear Kate squeal loudly as it trickles over her clothes, getting her wet. Then she glances back towards where I am, weakly shuffling my way towards them, and she gestures with both arms. Her blonde hair is flying all over the place due to the wind, and I know my dark hair is too. No matter how many times I try to tuck my hair behind my ear, it comes flying out of place stubbornly. I can't even hear her through the wind.

I manage to reach where Christian is, standing behind the wheel, manning the boat. He looks like some experience Captain or sailor as he glances back at me. He makes a gesture with his hand, but I can't hear him all that well. I get closer and then the boat rocks viciously, sending me straight into him and the wheel as I lose my balance.

I don't even have the time to be truly embarrassed when he grabs me, both arms coming around me. I feel myself go red against the chilly wind as he pushes me up against the wheel, his groin and chest brushing up against me.

"Have you ever driven a boat before?" he mutters in my ear, speaking loudly against the wind. I think I feel his lips brush against my earlobe and I shiver. He can't tell that it's due to him and not the frigid wind though.

"No?"

"Then now's your chance."

"What?" I scream back, assuming I've misunderstood him.

But then he grabs my hands, and he guides them over the wheel, curling my fingers over the polished wood. It feels really good, and it's terrible of me, I know. The way his hands are over mine, the way his palms are over my knuckles, his groin brushing against my backside in my shorts, his arms around me... It feels so good.

"Hold her tight, Anastasia," he speaks in my ear again. "As tight as you can. Keep her straight in that position."

My eyes dart to where Kate is automatically. I wonder how she would feel if she could see me, the way I'm beaming and smiling inside, loving her father standing behind me, right up against me, his arms over me, hands covering over mine as he helps me guide the boat. Only, to my relief, she isn't paying us any attention; She's staring out at the sea, having found somewhere to sit on a lounge chaise. She's facing away from us anyway, her hair whirling around her wildly.

Suddenly, the wheel seems to want to push sideways, and it becomes exhausting, holding it straight. But then Christian grasps it tightly, wrenching it back and, stupidly, I crane my neck back, my eyes going straight to his mouth and his lips. He is standing so close, his face is barely inches from mine. I wonder what would happen if I finally kissed him, if I finally made a move, especially since Kate isn't watching. Only, as always, I'm too chicken and common sense wins.

"How fast are we going exactly?" I cry out, still watching his mouth.

I find myself fascinated by his tongue that peeks through his teeth a little as he speaks, "She's doing roughly around 15 knots."

"I have no idea what that even means?"

"Well, put in simpler terms, 17 miles per hour."

"17 miles per hour only? Damn, it feels so much faster than that!"

"Doesn't it?" He leans sideways slightly to glance down at my face, our noses almost touching. We stare into each other's eyes, the long strands of my hair flicking everywhere between us, the short strands of his hair windswept in the breeze. I think I almost see his eyes drop to my mouth themselves, as if he too is wondering about kissing me. Or maybe again, I'm just being pathetic and am imagining it?

Purposefully dragging my eyes away while biting down on my lip, I look forward at the large long expanse of blue sea ahead of us. I feel his hands squeeze tightly into mine, his warm larger palms massaging my knuckles.

And then I don't know why I do it, but it seems to happen, almost voluntarily, like my body has its own mind. I jut out my backside, swaying slightly in a deliberate yet subtle move. For all he knows, I'm simply swaying because of the rocking motion that boat is giving us from the waves.

I know he feels it against his groin the instance it happens; I know that we're standing close enough that all it takes is me to push out my butt a little, to move side to side. I feel it through the fabric of the shorts Kate gave me to wear; The friction of them brushing against the material of his trousers, his groin.

I massage my bottom lip with my teeth, waiting, dreading him saying something about it. Only it doesn't come, thank God.

The only thing I feel, is his groin leaning and pushing up against my backside again in response, before he slides his hands off mine and unwinds his arms from around me. It feels like a shock to my body as he moves a length away from me. He did it back to me. He pushed his groin back up against my butt in retaliation. I'm sure I'm not that deluded that I imagined it.

CHRISTIAN POINT OF VIEW

I thought it would be a good chance to take the girls out, to be a good father to Kate. To show Anastasia, her friend, something she clearly hadn't experienced before. And it had started to be a nice, good day. Letting Anastasia take the wheel, guiding her along and explaining to her how to handle the wheel, how to steer something as powerful and heavy as a boat.

Until she did... that. I'm not even sure whether she knew she even did it or not. A twist of her hips, her backside hitting me right there, in that spot.

And then me, I did... it. Clearly, I was not thinking straight.

It's been so long since I've held a woman in my arms, since I've had one in front of me, my arms around them, standing real close. I'd forgotten how much I'd enjoyed it.

How it feels to be a man again, to show my expertise, for someone to share the enthusiasm with me in learning something new that I was teaching them.

And then she goes and does that. It's purely accidental, I'm sure. Incidental.

But then I go and do that, I lean against her, I shove back into her as all the blood rushes straight down there, straight to my groin, and me doing it, I'm not even sure it was incidental for me.

Really, how it happens in the 1st place, I'm not sure.

But fuck. Sliding my shoes back so that I'm standing a fair distance away, it doesn't seem to help it. Particularly not that tingling sensation and heat, the rush of blood to the head. As it turns out, I don't need Viagra. I may be old, but I'm not that old. Apparently things are still functioning perfectly well down there. I just hadn't been sure.

"This is amazing," Anastasia calls with laughter through the whistling wind, as if it truly was unintentional, illustrating just how innocent and ignorant she truly is. It makes me loathe myself as I stare at the back of her brown head, the way her hair whizzes around us, whipping me in the face.

It was unintentional for her. Accidental even, because we were standing so close and the boat is evidently rocking wildly side to side.

But me, doing it back to her... I can't say it wasn't intentional. I am a terrible, terrible man. And now, I'm suffering for it and paying the price for my evil misdeed.

"Isn't it?" I manage to sound completely normal. I just hope she won't turn around to notice what's going on, the predicament I'm in.

"How long have you owned a boat for?"

It's really hard to concentrate right now. All I can seem to feel is... throbbing, heat. Constricting fabric on my trousers. Gushing blood down there. "About roughly 2 years." My bitch ex and I had fought about this once; She'd wanted a yacht. I think I may have even brought this out of spite, knowing she'd wanted it. To rub it in her face. But really, it's become a hobby to me, something I enjoy, boating. Not so much something out of spite but a serene hobby. "There's nothing quite like being out here alone, at sea. It's... serene and relaxing at times, despite the wind and the strong current." I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm babbling pointlessly, hoping to keep her attention elsewhere other than on the fact I've got an erection.

"It is serene and relaxing out here," she agrees loudly, then she turns back to look at me. My stomach sinks, but fortunately, her blue eyes remain on mine, bright, shining with excitement. There's definitely something about her; Her smile is infectious. She makes you happy, inside and out, this girl does. Odd to think, but it's surprisingly true. "Do you come out here much?"

"Unfortunately not often enough. Seeing as I work regular hours, I sadly don't get much time these days."

She turns back around, which, luckily for me, stays that way. She doesn't glance back at me another time, but the image of her face, the brightness in her eyes, how they crinkled at the edges with sheer genuine happiness while, here I am, utterly uncomfortable, the corners of my ears aching from the moist wind hitting them, terrible hard-on and all...

"Did you buy the boat like this or did you have to make restorations?" she asks, carrying on our conversation, startling me by how interested she seems. Kate certainly never seems this interested.

"I brought her like this, exactly as she is. I did pay extra for some personal touches, of course. Like the name The Grace painted on the side, for instance."

"Why The Grace exactly?" The wheel jerks suddenly, and I can see she needs my help again. She yelps softly in surprise, and I can't help chuckling as I reach over her arms, gripping the wheel tight again, straightening it up. I make sure I keep my distance this time. "What made you come up with that?"

Obviously Kate hasn't spoken about her grandmother to Anastasia. "Grace is my mother's and Kate's grandmother's name," I explain near her ear. "I named it The Grace in honor of her. Every week before Christmas, Kate and I take my mother out on an outing on the boat as a sort of new developed family tradition between us." I don't even know why I bother telling her this. No doubt, it's a bore to her. Yet something about Anastasia makes me feel comfortable sharing most things with her, mundane or not.

"That's sweet," she says in a tone of what seems to be real awe. "I bet your mother loves that."

"She does, surprisingly. Have you been out on a boat much?"

"Only once," she admits, but there's an embarrassed edge to her voice that captures my interest.

"What?" I ask curiously.

"It's embarrassing, but... the 1st time I went out on a boat, I puked my guts out. I had terrible sea sickness. My ribs were so sore afterwards."

"Jesus."Despite feeling sorry for her, I can't help laughing. Light conversation with her is doing wonders for my erection. Already, I can feel the blood and swelling somewhat deflating. "And how old were you?"

"I was only 13 when it happened. It traumatized me, how sick I felt. Because of that, I usually tend to avoid boats."

"And how are you feeling now?" I ask, concerned. I peer at the corner of her face, assessing her. She doesn't look green. A little red in the face which is probably from the wind, but not sick.

"I think I'm good. I actually don't feel sick on your boat. It's different for some reason."

I see my daughter far ahead of us sitting on the chaise near the hull, being antisocial. Her hairs flying around frantically from the wind, same as Anastasia's. Without thought, I lift both hands, smoothing back Anastasia's frizzy hair from the wind gently with my palm, being merely fatherly, of course.

"That's the bad thing about the wind, isn't it?" I mutter softly into her ear, my cheek brushing against the side of her cheek. Her cheek feels freezing from the moist sea wind. "It makes your hair knotted and frizzy."

I would do this for Kate anytime, though now that she's older, naturally she won't allow me to brush her hair anymore. I realize how wrong it feels, the instance my palms and fingers smooth back Anastasia's dark, shiny long hair. It doesn't end up feeling fatherly, partly due to my half-dying erection. It comes out feeling... wrong somehow. Sexual, in a sense. Inappropriate.

"Sorry," I mutter against her ear, stopping my ministrations quickly. "I used to do this with Katherine all the time. It's a hard habit to break."

"It's fine," Anastasia says back over the wind, yet her voice is unsteady, husky.

At least she's still staring forward, because I would absolutely hate for her to notice how uncomfortable I feel, how tight my trousers suddenly are. I've got an erection now- something I haven't experienced in a while. And having one in front of my daughter, in front of her friend, it's mortifying. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I truly am a dirty, perverted man for what I did to her, for pushing back into her. For letting myself get into such a state, into such a predicament.

This had to happen now, I think to myself in horror, panicking. I clench my eyes shut, focusing on calming down, on not stressing too much. This had to happen now during an outing with two young girls, one of them my daughter. And it had to happen all because my daughters friend accidentally pressed up against my cock, all because she rubbed against me with her backside through my daughter's shorts.

What is wrong with me?

WHAT DID YOU THINK :) PACE STILL OKAY OR DOES IT NEED SPEEDING UP? I WILL WRITE THE DATE BETWEEN CHRISTIAN AND GAIL'S FRIEND IN NEXT CHAPTER, AS WELL AS ANA CONFESSING TO HAVING A CRUSH ON SOMEONE OLDER (THE REASON WHY SHE HASN'T EVEN HAD A BOYFRIEND YET, ETC) WITHOUT HIM KNOWING IT'S HIM SHE'S REFERRING TO. THANKS FOR YOUR ADVICE, I WILL SPEED IT UP SOMEWHAT. AS USUAL, I VALUE YOUR OPINIONS AND LOVE TO KNOW