No before.
No after.
Just heat and breath and the sound of her heartbeat against my chest.
Like we’re the only two people alive.
And for a while?—
I let myself believe it.
The cabin is pitch black except for the thin sliver of moonlight slipping through the porthole, painting a silver line across her cheekbone. I follow it with my thumb, slow, like I’m memorizing the shape of her face in the dark.
Sage’s breath catches when I do. She turns her head, lips brushing my palm, then the inside of my wrist—soft, deliberate kisses that feel like sparks against my skin. Her hands are already working the buttons of my shirt, one by one, fingers trembling just enough to make me crazy. I help her, shrugging the fabric off my shoulders, letting it fall somewhere behind us on the narrow floor.
She makes a small sound—approval, hunger—and presses closer, her palms sliding up my bare chest, tracing the lines of muscle like she’s reading me in braille. Every touch is fire. I catch her mouth again, deeper this time, slower, tasting champagne and salt air on her tongue. My hands find the hem ofher dress, gathering the soft fabric inch by inch, sliding it up the smooth warmth of her thighs.
She lifts her arms so I can pull it over her head. The dress whispers to the floor. Now there’s only the thin silk of her camisole between us, and even that feels like too much. I trace the strap with my fingertips, down the slope of her shoulder, feeling her shiver. She arches into me, guiding my hand to the clasp at her back. One flick and the camisole loosens; I ease it away, letting it join the growing pile of discarded clothes.
Skin to skin at last. The heat of her against me steals every rational thought. I kiss her throat, lingering at the frantic pulse beneath her jaw, then lower, along the delicate curve where neck meets shoulder. She sighs my name—soft, broken—and it undoes me. Her fingers thread through my hair, holding me there as I taste her, slow and reverent, like I have all the time in the world.
I shift us carefully on the narrow bunk, laying her back against the pillows, following her down until I’m braced above her. Moonlight catches the rise and fall of her chest; I follow it with my lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone, down the soft valley between her breasts. She gasps when I linger there, hands clutching my shoulders, nails pressing half-moons into my skin.
Her legs part just enough for me to settle between them, and the feel of her—warm, bare, wanting—makes my heart hammer against my ribs. I slide a hand down her side, over the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip, learning every curve by touch alone. She moves with me, restless, seeking, her thigh brushing against mine in a way that sends heat roaring through me.
I return to her mouth, kissing her like I’m drowning and she’s air. Our bodies rock together in the gentle sway of the boat, unhurried, savoring every second of this stolen darkness.Hands exploring. Breaths mingling. Hearts pounding in perfect rhythm.
There’s no rush. No need for words. Just the slow, exquisite burn of wanting her more with every touch, every whispered sigh against my lips.
And in this tiny cabin, with the harbor rocking us gently and the rest of the world locked outside, I let myself fall completely—helpless, hopeless, and utterly hers.
My hand drifts lower, tracing the soft plane of her stomach, down to the heat between her thighs. She’s slick, trembling under my touch, and the discovery rips a low groan from my throat. I part her gently, fingers sliding through her warmth, teasing slow circles that make her arch off the bunk with a broken moan.
“God, Sage…” I breathe against her ear. “You’re so ready for me. So perfect.”
She whimpers my name, hips rolling into my hand, chasing more. I give it to her—slow, deliberate strokes that have her clutching at my back, nails dragging fire across my skin. Every sound she makes is a spark straight to my blood. I could stay here forever, learning every secret shiver, but the ache in me is too fierce now.
“Please,” she whispers, voice ragged. “I need you inside me. Now.”
I shift over her, guiding myself to her entrance, pausing just long enough to feel her pulse around the tip. Her eyes find mine in the faint moonlight—dark, wild, trusting—and then I sink into her in one slow, deliberate thrust.
We both cry out. She’s tight, hot, velvet around me, and the world narrows to the place we’re joined. The boat rocks harder now, not just from the harbor swell but from us—from the rhythm we find together, deep and urgent.
Sage wraps her legs high around my waist, arms locked around my shoulders, pulling me closer like she’ll never let go. She rises to meet every thrust, hips lifting, taking me deeper, and the slick friction steals my breath.
“Harder,” she gasps against my mouth. “Don’t hold back. I want all of you.”
The words unravel me. Sweat slicks our skin; the air is thick with salt and sex and the raw scent of us. I drive into her faster, deeper, the bunk creaking beneath us, the whole cabin alive with the sounds of our bodies colliding.
“You feel so damn good,” I growl, voice rough. “So tight… like you were made for me.”
She moans louder, clenching around me, and it nearly ends me right there. “Yes—just like that. I’m yours,” she pants. “All yours.”
The pleasure coils tighter, hotter, until I’m lost in it—in her. I feel her start to shatter first, her body tightening, breath hitching in sharp, desperate cries. She comes apart around me, pulling me over the edge with her.
At the last second I pull out, spilling hot across her belly in long pulses that leave me shaking. I collapse over her, careful not to crush her, forehead pressed to hers as we both fight for air.
The boat settles back into its gentle sway. Our hearts thunder together. I kiss her slow and deep, tasting salt on her lips, and know without question that this—this wild, perfect storm—is only the beginning.
