SERA
Iwake to the smell of coffee and the sound of Ford moving around the galley.
For a moment I just lie there, cataloging the pleasant ache between my thighs, the unfamiliar warmth of shared body heat still lingering on the sheets. The narrow bed feels different this morning. Less like a cage and more like a sanctuary.
Ford appears at the foot of the stairs with two mugs in his hands and a look on his face I haven't seen before. Soft. Almost vulnerable. Like he's not quite sure how to handle the morning after when the morning after actually matters.
"Coffee." He holds out a mug. "Still strong enough to strip varnish."
"Perfect." I sit up, letting the sheet fall to my waist, and take the offering. His eyes track the movement, heat flickering in their gray depths before he looks away.
"We should talk."
"Probably." I take a sip, letting the caffeine cut through the pleasant fog of sleep and sex. "You're not going to tell me last night was a mistake, are you?"
"No." He settles onto the edge of the bed, close enough that our knees touch. "Last night was a lot of things, but a mistake isn't one of them."
"Then what do we need to talk about?"
Ford sets his mug aside and takes my free hand in both of his. His thumbs trace patterns across my knuckles while he gathers his thoughts.
"Five days left." His voice is quiet. "Five days before your father's people come to get you. Before you go back to Boston and your work and your real life."
"I know."
"I need to know what happens after that." He meets my eyes, and I see the uncertainty there. The fear he's trying to hide beneath layers of tactical composure. "Because if this is just a boat thing, a circumstance thing, I need to prepare myself for that. But if it's something else..."
"It's something else." The words come out steadier than I feel. "At least for me."
"For me too." His grip on my hand tightens. "Which is terrifying, because I don't know how to do this. How to be someone's... whatever this is becoming. I've been alone for four years, Sera. By choice. Because it was easier than risking anything real. Now I'm looking at you and thinking about all the ways this could fall apart, and I still can't make myself pull back." He brings my hand to his mouth, presses a kiss to my palm. "I want to see where this goes. Beyond the boat. Beyond the two weeks."
My heart is doing something complicated in my chest. Expanding. Breaking. Rebuilding itself into a new shape that has room for this man and whatever future we might have together.
"Boston isn't that far from South Carolina." I set my coffee aside and shift closer to him. "And my work involves a lot of travel. Acquisitions, authentication consultations. I could find reasons to be in this part of the world more often."
"You'd do that?"
"I'd consider it a professional development opportunity." I curve my hand around the back of his neck, feeling the tension there. "With significant personal benefits."
He pulls me into his lap, my thighs bracketing his hips, the sheet tangling between us. The kiss he gives me is different from last night. Slower. More deliberate. A conversation happening between our bodies instead of our words.
"Five more days," he murmurs against my mouth. "I intend to make them count."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both."
I'm about to suggest we start counting right now when the boat lurches violently to one side.
Ford reacts before I can even process what's happening. He dumps me off his lap, shoves me toward the floor, and reaches for the gun I didn't know he kept under the mattress.
"Stay down." His voice is ice. All the softness gone in an instant, replaced by something hard and lethal. "Don't move until I tell you."
He's up the stairs and out of sight before I can respond.
The soundsthat follow will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Gunfire. Shouting. The heavy thud of bodies hitting the deck. Ford's voice barking commands in a language I don't recognize, then switching to English, then going silent.
