Hunter
The next couple of days fly by in a haze of sex and pretending we’re never going home. Penn shares a bunch more about his shelter project with me, and I can barely put into words how impressed I am by his dedication. I can’t believe he took on something this big all on his own. But it’s starting to make sense with what I’m learning about him. Penn Thompson is a giver. He doesn’t ask for anything from anyone, and he’s happiest when he can help other people, even with something as simple as just listening to them. Maybe it was because of the way he was raised, but he'd never considered doing full-time charity work in the past. But it's glaringly obvious that he was made to do this. He confesses the reason he decided to start the shelter project was because he was feeling inadequate, but I'm happy to see those feelings fading quickly. I love seeing his eyes light up and hearing the confidence in his voice when he talks about The Open Door.
“I can’t believe this is our last night,” I mutter to Penn, squeezing his hand as we make our way through the throng of people in the ship’s lounge. The buzz of conversation andclinking glasses feels like a soundtrack to an ending, even if neither of us wants to admit it.
“Me neither,” Penn replies. The way he leans into me, his body language screaming “couple,” stirs a cocktail of emotions inside me—equal parts joy and dread for what returning to real life means.
We spot Jesse, Jeff, and Danielle lounging in a corner booth with cocktails in hand. As we approach, their smiles are wide and genuine. For a second, it helps ease the tightness in my chest. We’ve spent more time with them over the last couple of days, and it’s clear to me that Penn was completely honest when he said Jesse and he are nothing but friends. Jesse and Jeff are actually really nice guys, and Danielle is amazing. Jesse sent an email to his cousins, who own a well-respected renovation company in Seattle, and they want to meet with Penn and Martin to talk about how they might be able to help out with the construction of the shelter.
“Last night on board.” Danielle makes an exaggerated pout. “I hate this part of the trip. Goodbyes make me crazy.”
“You guys make sure you enjoy your last night,” Jeff chimes in. There’s warmth in his tone, together with a hint of teasing. He’s got a pretty good idea about what we’re gonna be doing to enjoy our last night on board.
Penn’s laughter is light and easy, but his fingers tighten around mine under the table. It’s part of the silent conversation we’ve been having all day. We’re dancing around each other, one moment aching to be close, clinging to every second we have left, and the next, pushing away from each other, trying to soften the blow of tomorrow’s inevitable separation.
We enjoy a lovely couple of hours with the Greenwoods. But as the time ticks closer to our dinner reservation, the goodbyes start. As Jesse gives Penn a warm hug, he says softly, “Make sure to contact us about donations. I talked to Jeff about it, and we’rereally interested in getting involved.” He casts a quick glance at me, like he’s concerned about my reaction, before returning his focus to Penn.
“Absolutely,” Jeff adds, his arm around Danielle. “We’ve been looking for a project to get behind. Something meaningful. I’m very interested in hearing more details. And my guess is that our cousins at Hot Dam Homes will move Heaven and Earth to try and fit you into their schedule.” He smiles at both of us warmly.
“That’s fantastic. I’ll make sure to contact you soon.” Penn’s voice is full of hope. “And thanks for your advice, Jesse.”
“Anytime, Penn,” Jesse confirms with a warm smile.
Even though I don’t suspect any ulterior motive on Jesse’s part when it comes to Penn, a part of me twists with jealousy when I think about what might happen if Jesse were to visit Seattle when Penn and I are back to being “just friends.” As nice a guy as Jesse is, the thought of him, the thought of anyone else, touching Penn, turns my stomach.
“Take care, you two,” Danielle says with a warm smile, and with a final wave, we head toward the restaurant for dinner.
We walk outside on the deck, and the setting sun catches in Penn’s blond hair, giving him a halo I know damn well he doesn’t deserve. Not with the things we’ve done this week. I let out a half snort of laughter and shake my head.
“Hey.” Penn bumps his shoulder against mine, bringing me back to the moment. “You okay?”
“Sure,” I lie. Because nothing about this feels okay. I’m not jealous of Jesse anymore, but there’s a sour taste in my mouth anyway. I want more. I know I do. But I know I can’t have it.
We arrive at the little open-air restaurant with a killer view, perfect for our final night. The sun is painting the sky with oranges and purples that mirror the storm of emotions inside me, and the breeze is still warm, the air holding that softness I’ve come to love about the tropical climate.
“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” Penn murmurs, picking at his food rather than eating it.
“Yeah.” I take a sip of my beer, letting the cold liquid numb my senses for a fleeting moment.
We don’t talk about it. We don’t need to. Our agreement hangs between us, unspoken but heavy. This was just a fling, a fun distraction. But the more time I spend with him, the harder it becomes to imagine going back to my life without Penn’s laughter ringing in my ears, without his touch sending shivers down my spine.
“Hey, Hunter?” Penn’s voice draws me out of my thoughts, and I look up to meet his gaze. There’s something intense there, something that makes my heart race. “Thanks for this. For… everything.”
I swallow hard. “No, Penn. Thank you. It’s been… uh… memorable,” I reply, and it’s the understatement of the century.
Dinner passes in a blur of meaningless chatter and stolen glances. When we head back to our room, the tension is palpable. We’re silent as we undress, the weight of our impending separation stripping away any pretense.
And then we’re on each other, desperate and urgent. Our mouths collide and we swallow each other's moans as we fall onto the bed. I know every inch of Penn’s body now, know exactly how to make him gasp, how to draw out those low, guttural noises that go straight to my dick.
“God, Hunter,” Penn groans as I take him in hand, our bodies slick with sweat and need.
I capture his lips again, tasting the salt of the ocean on them. Our movements are frenzied, driven by the knowledge that tonight is it, the end of our secret little world. I want to brand him. I want to leave my marks on him. Marks that will outlast this trip, so when he’s home alone next week, he’ll see them and think of me.
He gasps and arches into me as I latch onto his neck, sucking hard just above his collarbone.
“Please,” he whispers against my mouth, and I know what he means. For these last few hours, he’s still mine. And I’ll be damned if I don’t make the most of it.
We move together in a perfect rhythm. Our bodies know each other now, and we respond to each other so easily. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt. When we finally fall asleep, Penn’s head rests on my chest, and my arm is clamped tightly around his waist, holding him close to me. We’re exhausted but nowhere near satiated. The sun’s rays are already starting to lighten up the morning sky as we drift off, but instead of feeling anticipation for a new day, I close my eyes, feeling empty and hollow.
