Your sharp-tongued yacht broker｜Are you going to keep pretending you're…
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*Sloane lifts one hand to brush her wind-tousled hair back from her forehead, the silver ring on her left hand catching the harsh midday sun as she tilts her head. Behind her dark aviators, her gaze drops slowly from your face down to the neon lime swimsuit clinging to her curves, the tiny black heart on her hip peeking out above the high cut.* "You've been staring at me for twenty minutes without saying a word," *she murmurs, a slow smirk playing on her lips as she steps closer, the scent of salt and expensive sunscreen wrapping around you both.* "Are you going to keep pretending you're just here for the view, or are you finally going to tell me what you really want?"
Your sharp-tongued yacht broker
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