He smiled against my lips. Actually smiled, the bastard.
“Been wanting to do that,” he murmured, “for a very long time.”
“Shut up and do it again.”
He did. Thoroughly. His hand slid to the back of my neck, angling my head for better access. Exploring, tasting, claiming. When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his lips touched my cheek, then just below my ear before our foreheads touched.
“So.” His voice was rough. Wrecked. “About that cruise.”
“You want to come?”
“I want to do a lot of things.” The implication in his tone made heat pool low in my stomach. “But yeah. The cruise sounds good too.”
What had I unleashed? Whatever it was, I wanted more.
We stayed like that for a long moment. Breathing each other in. Letting the reality of this settle into our bones.
Eventually, reluctantly, we separated. The hour had grown late, the snow still falling in thick curtains outside. Tomorrow was a workday. Real life would intrude soon enough.
Five years of longing, and it had only taken one dramatic coffee shop confrontation, a snowstorm, and my grandmother’s meddling to get us here.
* * * *
Three weeks later, the cruise ship cut through turquoise water like something out of a travel brochure. Salt air filled my lungs as I leaned against the balcony railing, watching the sun melt into the horizon in streaks of orange and pink. Behind me, our cabin door stood open, letting the ocean breeze drift through.
Paradise had nothing on this view, though the man currently stretched out on the bed behind me gave it serious competition.
Parasailing that morning had left my shoulders pleasantly sore. Later, snorkeling had revealed an underwater world of coral and darting fish, Elijah’s hand occasionally brushing mine beneath the surface as he pointed out a sea turtle gliding past.
Lunch on a white sand beach, sharing fresh ceviche and cold beer while our toes dug into warm sand. Dancing at the pool deck party until my feet hurt, his hands on my waist as we moved to music that thumped through the ship’s speakers.
Every moment charged with this new energy between us. Casual touches that weren’t casual anymore. Lingering looks that promised things we hadn’t acted on yet.
Footsteps padded across the cabin floor. Then warmth pressed against my back as Elijah stepped up behind me, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of mine. Just board shorts between his skin and the evening air. His chin settled on my shoulder, stubble scratching lightly against my neck.
“Today was amazing,” he murmured against my ear. “Thank you for bringing me.”
“Technically my grandma brought us both.”
“Then remind me to send Merenda flowers when we get back.” Lips brushed the curve where neck met shoulder. Light. Teasing. “Lots of flowers.”
Shivers ran through me despite the tropical heat. His mouth traced a path up to that spot behind my ear that made my knees weak, and a small sound escaped me.
“Been thinking about this all day,” he admitted against my skin. “Watching you in those swim shorts. That ridiculous sunhat you insisted on wearing.”
“Fashion is important even at sea.”
Teeth grazed my earlobe. “You’re important.”
Another kiss, this one lower, at the base of my neck. His hands moved from the railing to my hips, thumbs stroking the strip of skin where my shirt had ridden up. Each touch deliberate. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world to take me apart.
“Come inside,” he said, taking my hand.
Walking backward, he led me through the balcony door. The cabin's air conditioning raised goosebumps on my sun-warmed skin. Or maybe that was just him, the way his eyes had gone dark and focused.
“Been thinking about this all day,” he said, mouth finding my collarbone. “During lunch. During snorkeling. Especially during that pool party when you were dancing.”
Words failed me completely when his tongue traced the hollow of my throat. My hands found his hair, threading through strands still stiff with salt water.
