‘I have to say, it is so very lucky that we both wake up at dawn,’ he murmured as he threw back the cover to reveal her naked body. He admired her quietly, the rise and fall of her belly quickening with each passing second.
He climbed on top of her, and she laced her arms around his neck. ‘When else would we have time for all of this?’ he whispered in her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth. She sighed deeply, her body awakened and fizzing wherever her skin touched his. He pulled her head back, his fingers tangled in her hair, and scattered kisses down her exposed neck. Already she was trembling beneath him. She could not seem to get used to his touch. Each time she was newly shocked by the singe it left in its wake. By now at least she had managed to control the urge to check for marks.
Against her leg she could feel the smooth hardness growing, and she reached for it. He whimpered against her throat as she handled him. Softly, teasingly at first, and then tightening her grip, rubbing herself against him as she stroked up and down. He rolled onto his side, and she spread her legs. It was a choreography they had become adept at. His hand traced spirals on her stomach and then thighs. He liked to wait until just before she thought she might have to beg for it. His fingers found her and the spike of pleasure frothed all the way toherfingertips, and as she let out a wail, his other hand collapsed around her mouth.
‘You gotta keep it down. Some people don’t like to be woken up before the sunrise,’ he scolded her, but it only made her want to scream louder. He was quickening now, watching her intently for cues, fingernails grasping at the sheets, toes curling, legs shaking, back arching. Only then, and after he had kept her on the edge for an agonisingly unknowable amount of time, would he stretch inside of her and lull her off the cliff, to fall into rapturous oblivion.
In the darkness she clawed at him, bringing his face to hers – her guiding light out of herself. When he sunk into her, exhaling at the quenching of a savage thirst, she welcomed him into that liminal space. The space where there was only them and throbbing, and aching, and reaching, and release.
How many times since that first time had they been to that place together? She couldn’t remember, but it always felt new, like they were discovering it together, pioneers of sex. He was grunting, and she was panting, and the white noise from her mind was trickling over her body. They were going to arrive together, and she grabbed for his hand as they tumbled. Moaning, bracing, wincing as they went.
Sofia often found it hard to orientate herself in the moments afterwards, she might have the impression that she was hanging upside down or that her body was hovering just above the mattress. It was the sensation of Jack’s hands stroking her hair, or his voice that directed her back down to reality.
‘Today’s the day,’ she said, as the weight of earthly concerns nestled itself back into her brain. It was Petra and Stuart’s last day, the end of the season, and perhaps an opportunity to meet the new recruits.
It felt like a lifetime ago that Sofia had stepped onto the boat for the first time.
‘I’m going to miss Petra,’ Jack mused. Sofia turned her head and shot him a look. She had also surprised herself at her tendency towards jealousy, something she had never experienced with her exes. Jack laughed.
‘You can’t be serious! Even now, even after that.’ He snuggled his nose into the nape of Sofia’s neck and she felt the tension evaporate from her body. ‘Even after the proposal?’ he teased.
Stuart had popped the question, to everyone’s surprise, after the last guests had left two days ago. Petra had been in hysterics when she came down to the mess to show everyone the ring. Sofia had only been able to make out the words ‘deck’, ‘sunset’ and ‘marry’ but it was enough to come to an accurate conclusion.
Sofia might have once only pretended to be unquestion-ingly happy for Petra. There was a past version of Sofia – the grey, ambitious, slightly cynical version – that would have faced Petra with a smile but been wondering how long a marriage between two people who only started dating six months ago could possibly last. Now she was glowing with the sort of blinding faith in love that only came from being in the depths of it yourself. They had clasped at each other, and Sofia had found herself succumbing to the tears. ‘I’m so happy for you,’ she had said, blinking back the heat behind her eyes, and she had meant it.
‘I wonder where the wedding will be?’ Sofia mused out loud, her fingers wandering up and down Jack’s back. She could feel the hotness of his breath against her chest and she found herself marvelling, as she did most days, at the overwhelming sense of wellbeing she felt. It was hard to describe an extreme feeling of contentment. Usually it was experienced in its well-known, milder form. With Jack, the groundedness felt both calming and ecstatic.
‘I guess it’ll be in the UK? That’s where they’re going to live, but then it might be a long journey for her family coming all the way from Australia,’ Jack mumbled, his lips vibrating against her rib cage so she could feel the words more than hear them.
‘You don’t think they’ll do it in Italy? Surely that’s the most natural choice.’
Jack looked up at Sofia, two gems of green poking through dark lashes. ‘Is that right?’ he said, a small smile creeping across his face.
Sofia blushed, suddenly aware that they had stumbled into a conversation about marriage. ‘Well I mean, it’s terribly romantic, isn’t it.’
‘It is,’ he agreed, pulling himself onto his elbow and planting a soft kiss on her lips. He looked down at her admiringly. ‘I would offer them the use of my grandmother’s villa; the citrus grove would be a perfect spot...’ He trailed off. Sofia watched the green turn liquid, molten. ‘But I’d rather save it for something special.’ He held her gaze for a second longer before looking away, chuckling to himself. ‘One day,’ he muttered.
Sofia wasn’t ready to let go of the moment. She reached for his cheek and pulled him back to her, kissing him deeply. ‘One day,’ she mouthed and Jack smiled shyly.
When they were together, the hours seemed to melt into minutes and soon they were both scrambling into their uniforms. There would be no guests until next season but both Petra and Stuart’s replacements had made the effort to fly out to Cannes, where they were now docked, to meet the team before the next charter.
They stood side by side nudging each other out of the way of the slim wall-mounted mirror to check their reflections. Sofia watched Jack as he wrestled with a wayward curl and then tackled one of her own.
A lingering kiss in the doorway and then they went their separate ways, Sofia to the kitchen, Jack to meet the captain. Sofia was in charge of making a ‘welcoming brunch’ for the two newbies, whatever that was. She suspected it was just a ploy to make them feel a little less overwhelmed by the information dumping that the captain was planning to impart. It was obvious that Captain Mary was apprehensive about having to replace a head stewardess and the engineer at the same time.
Jack had been advocating for Patricio to take on more responsibility, and there had been an agreement that the role would be renamed ‘senior steward’ so as not to create an awkward situation whereby Patricio would be having to train up his own boss, only to be relegated back to his role as underling afterwards.
Sofia was preparing a full English breakfast for brunch and just as she began grating the potato for her homemade hash browns, Patricio walked in.
‘Ciao, bella.’ He grinned. Ever since their head-to-head in that very kitchen, Patricio had reverted to his old charming ways.
‘Ciao, come stai?’ Sofia had been practising.
‘Molto bene!Grazie,’ he responded approvingly. ‘Your accent is really coming along nicely.’
Sofia blushed at the praise.
‘I suppose you must be getting in a lot of out-of-hours practice,’ Patricio said with a devilish smirk.
