The next morning, we both sleep in, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because Penn had as much trouble sleeping as I did. I don’t know how long I tossed and turned, replaying what he felt like against me, but when I find him out on the balcony sipping a coffee, he looks almost as bleary-eyed as I do, so maybe it wasn’t just me.
We have a quick but delicious brunch at the hotel before Penn orders an Uber to drop us off at the cruise terminal. As the long row of cruise ships comes into view from the car, Penn points out the one we’re about to board, and my eyes nearly fall out of my head. It’s far and away the largest ship I can see, and that’s saying quite a bit since there must be a dozen of the giant vessels lined up at the port. Meanwhile, thousands of cars, buses, trucks, and other vehicles zip madly around the port as all these gigantic ships get ready to sail away for the week ahead.
The check-in process is quick, and once we step on board the behemoth ship, I’m completely fascinated. I guess I didn’t do as much research as I could have after Serah teased me, because I had no idea. I mean, I knew it would be big, but I had no idea itwould be like this ginormous, moving luxury amusement park or something.
Penn tells me it can sometimes take a couple of hours for the luggage to be delivered to our stateroom, so while we wait, he suggests we do a quick “walkabout” to get our bearings. All I can do is nod since the whole thing has me speechless.
“Jesus, this thing is something else,” I say, and even I can hear the awe in my voice.
Penn chuckles. “I know, right? It’s insane. I think this thing holds something like eight thousand people. I was on the sister ship to this one a few years ago. You should probably brace yourself.” He throws me a wink. “Come on, let’s do the nickel tour.”
On the ship’s main deck, there’s a wide, uncovered central walkway running from one end of the ship to the other called the Promenade. It feels like being outdoors, even though we’re fully enclosed on all sides. Shops and restaurants line either side of the walkway, and at one end, there’s a park with full-sized trees and walking paths. Several levels of cabins rise up on both sides, with balconies that give their occupants a chance to step outside to grab fresh air and people-watch. The other decks are almost as impressive, most of them have bars and coffee shops scattered throughout different locations. There’s also an outdoor aqua theater where they hold Cirque du Soleil–type shows, a full-sized carousel, and to top it all off, Penn brings me to this weird bar where you order drinks on a tablet and then watch them get mixed by a giant robot.
“I just can’t believe this thing,” I say to Penn for what feels like the tenth time as we grab a table next to one of the many poolside bars. We each grab a burger and a margarita. The “quick” tour took a lot longer than I imagined, and it’s well into afternoon by now, so we’re both starving.
“I know, the whole thing’s totally OTT, right? Just wait until you see our room. It’s gonna blow your balls off,” he teases, a smirk curling up the corners of his lips.
“I dunno,” I chuckle. “My balls might have already been blown. This thing is just so huge!”
He snorts into his margarita. “That’s what he said."
I roll my eyes, unable to stop my own smile.
After last night, I was worried things might be awkward between us. Not only because of the mini-make-out session, but also because even before that, Penn had seemed kind of weirded out by the conversation about our families. But we seem to have settled back into our usual dynamic, which is good. I don’t need to be worrying about feeling even more awkward than I already do.
We enjoy our drinks and people-watch for a while before Penn leans back, raising his arms above his head in a luxurious stretch and letting out a groan that causes my cock to twitch in my shorts when his shirt rides up, exposing a delicious strip of tanned skin on his belly.
Fucking stand down, I chastise my traitorous dick. Last night was just a fluke. A one-off, probably brought on because we were a little drunk and excited to be on vacation. Penn is not on the menu, and the last thing I need is to start developing random hard-ons around him, especially since we’ll probably be spending a lot of time in our swimsuits this week.
“Alright, alright, alright,” he says in a low, husky voice that causes my cock to jump again despite the stern talking-to I just gave it. “I’m guessin’ our bags should be in the room by now, so do you wanna go check that out and settle in?”
I can’t help but smile at the little peek of Texas that creeps into his voice every now and then. It’s so subtle I’ve never noticed before, but after last night, when he laid the accent on thick forshow, it’s like I can’t unhear it in his voice. I’ve never thought Texas accents were sexy. Until now.
“Sounds good to me,” I say.
We head toward our stateroom, which Penn says is located on one of the higher decks. We’re walking by a set of frosted glass doors on our floor when Penn stops and gestures to them.
“This is the concierge lounge. Let’s pop in and introduce ourselves,” he says.
I’m about to ask who we need to introduce ourselves to when he opens the door, and I’m transported into a beautiful, calm oasis. The lounge is peaceful and quiet, even though there are a few dozen people in here. Gleaming white marble, soft purple uplighting, and glass shelves lined with top-quality liquor give the large room an air of decadence and understated luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out at the madness and noise of the pool deck down below, but in here, it’s calm and cool. Soft jazz music filters through hidden speakers, and uniformed servers pass out flutes of champagne to the groups of smiling guests scattered around.
“This is a lovely space,” I say, looking around.
Penn thanks the passing server as he grabs us each a glass of champagne off the man’s tray and nods at me. “I know, right? This lounge always ends up being one of my favorite hangouts on board. It’s a little escape from the rest of the chaos.”
I’m looking around, still taking in the luxurious surroundings, when a tall, well-built Black man wearing an impeccable ship’s officer’s uniform approaches us.
“Mr. Thompson and Mr. Davies, right?” he asks. When we both nod, he gifts us with a brilliant smile and extends his hand for a handshake. “I’m Llanzo, your concierge for this week.”
“Hi, Llanzo,” we both say at the same time.
He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “I just wanted to introduce myself. If you need anything like dinner or show reservations orif you have questions about anything at all, please just come to me first, and I’ll be very happy to take care of it for you.” His soft Jamaican accent, combined with his deep voice, is mind-bendingly sexy, and I imagine the man probably spends a fair amount of his time turning down all manner of offers from horny guests.
“Thanks, Llanzo. I’m sure everything will be perfect,” Penn says with a warm smile. We chat for a few minutes, and Llanzo charms us into promising to stop by the “Sail Away Party” in an hour, before we turn to head to our stateroom.
Chapter ten
Penn
