4. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Stella
I take a slow, deep breath and glance across the table at Samuel, my eyes locking onto his intense blue gaze. He’s staring back at me, but that heavy, hardened gaze isn’t giving me anything.
The tension between us is palpable, like a live wire stretched tight, ready to snap at any moment.
He’s been gruff and distant throughout dinner, his responses clipped. It’s like his focus is more on the steak in front of him than on our conversation. But I’m determined not to let him get away with that.
There’s something about him—something dark and brooding—that draws me in, and I’m not about to let it go so easily.
“So,” I say, taking a sip of my wine and letting the sweet, rich flavor linger on my tongue. “What’s your story, Samuel? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who takes cruises for fun.”
He glances up from his plate, his expression guarded. “Why do you say that?”
I shrug, keeping my tone light. “Just a hunch. You’ve got that ‘I’d rather be anywhere but here’ look about you.”
Irritation crosses his face, and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line. I really don’t want to upset this gorgeous man. I don’t want to see those sexy lips turn into a frown or see those beautiful eyes staring back at me with hatred.
“You’re not wrong,” he admits, cutting into his steak with precision as those big, round shoulders shrug a stunted response. “This wasn’t my idea.”
I lean forward slightly, my curiosity piqued. “Then whose idea was it?”
He hesitates, his jaw tightening as if he’s debating how much to tell me. Finally, he sighs, setting down his fork. “Let’s just say I’m here under orders. My bosses think I need some… downtime.”
“Downtime?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “What are you? A workaholic or something?”
He gives a humorless chuckle. “Something like that.”
I can tell there’s more to the story, but I decide not to push—at least not yet. Instead, I shift the conversation to safer ground.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m sort of a workaholic too. This vacation was my friend’s idea. She practically dragged me onto this ship.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Dragged you? Why’s that?”
“Because I’m not exactly the spontaneous type,” I admit with a grin. “I like my routine. I work to my schedule and don’t venture out of my comfort zone. But she insisted that I needed a break. And turns out… she was right.” I glance around the restaurant, taking in the elegant décor, the soft lighting, and the gentle hum of conversation. “I’m enjoying myself. This place is amazing. I’m glad I came.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, just watches me with those piercing eyes of his. It’s like he’s trying to figure me out, piece by piece. For some reason, that sends a thrill of excitement through me.
I hold his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. It allows me the chance to really study his features. There’s a scar that runs across his face, and by the appearance of the wound, it’s been a deep lashing that has nearly taken out his eye.
I can’t help but wonder who this man is. He’s filled with stories and adventure; I can just see it. The mystery is gripping, and I just want to spend all night with him, learning his story and listening to everything about him.
Leaning back in my chair, I take my wineglass and try to do exactly that.
“What about you?” I ask, breaking the silence. “What do you do when you’re not being forced to relax on luxury cruises?”
There’s a long pause, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to answer. I start to think that this is where he draws the line. Maybe he’s a spy? Or a hitman?
I start to think of all these crazy jobs, but then, he picks up his glass of wine, swirling the dark liquid around before taking a sip.
“I’m in the military,” he says finally. “Or… I was.”
I blink, taken aback.
That explains a lot—the way he carries himself, the intensity in his eyes, the way he seems constantly on edge.
“Was?” I ask softly.
His expression darkens, and he sets the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “I’m on leave,” he says, his voice tight. “For now.”
I nod slowly, sensing that this is a sore subject. “I see.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and the conversation lulls into silence again. I can feel the weight of everything he’s not saying hanging in the air between us. I’m not sure if I should press him or let it go, but something tells me that whatever he’s holding back is eating at him.
I reach for my wine glass, trying to think of a way to lighten the mood.
“You know,” I say, a teasing lilt in my voice as I lean over the table, trying to tempt this man closer. “If you’re trying to scare me off, you’re going to have to do better than that. I’m pretty tough to shake.”
His lips twitch, almost forming a smile. “Is that so?”
“Yep,” I say confidently, taking another sip of wine. “I’ve been through worse than a grumpy dinner companion.”
That actually gets a soft chuckle out of him, and I can see the tension in his shoulders ease just a bit.
“Fair enough.”
We fall into a more comfortable rhythm after that, talking about lighter topics as we eat. I tell him about my job in marketing, about how it’s a constant grind but I love it anyway. He listens, asking the occasional question, and I get the feeling he’s genuinely interested, even if he’s still holding back.
The food is incredible—juicy steak cooked to perfection, accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes and fresh vegetables. The flavors burst on my tongue, and I can’t help but moan softly as I take a bite.
“This is amazing,” I murmur, savoring the taste of the red wine sauce that’s covering my steak. “How’s yours?”
“Good,” he says, though I notice he’s not as enthusiastic as I am. He’s eating mechanically, like he’s just going through the motions. Food is just fuel to a big machine like this guy. His wide shoulders and ripped muscles need every ounce of protein that he’s piling into his mouth.
We finish the meal, and I’m feeling pleasantly full and slightly buzzed from the wine. The tension from earlier has mostly dissipated, replaced by a warm, comfortable vibe that I’m reluctant to let go of.
We stand to leave, and I glance over at him, not ready for this impromptu date to end. A mischievous idea forms in my mind, and with a new confidence I’ve found onboard the Infinity Voyager, I step closer towards him and loop my arm through his.
A waft of his cologne fills my nostrils, and I swear his arm tightens around mine as we walk towards the door. I could totally fall for him right now. I’m so close I can feel his power. That hard, muscular body that I’ve been staring at all night is right here, beside me.
“How about a nightcap?” I suggest, nodding toward the Aqua Aura Pool Bar. “It’s a gorgeous night, and I could use a little fresh air.”
He hesitates, his gaze flicking to the exit as if he’s contemplating making a run for it. But then he nods, surprising me. “Sure. Why not?”
We make our way to the pool bar, walking arm in arm in the night air. It’s warm and inviting, and something about Samuel has me feeling… comfortable .
The bar is lively, but not overcrowded, with soft ambient music playing in the background. The pool shimmers under the lights, casting a soft glow over the area. Samuel leads the way, eyeing off a few guys who dare to look my way. I swear I hear him growl and the thought of being protected by a man in the service makes my pulse race.
This man is stunning. His hair is thick and streaked with hints of gray that show signs of his age. Aside from the scar on his face, he’s sporting other signs of a hard life. His skin crinkles at the corner’s of his eyes and it’s easy to see he’s much older than me, maybe early forties. But I don’t mind the age difference, in fact, it’s kind of sexy.
Eventually, we find a secluded spot near the edge of the pool. Samuel helps me settle in the seat and then sits down beside me. We order a bottle of wine for us to share and lose ourselves in conversation. Fairy lights twinkle above us, and the soft music mingles with the gentle lapping of the water, allowing me to relax and take in every word Samuel has to say.
As he tells me about his hometown in Falls Creek, I steal a glance at him. He’s relaxed a little more, though there’s still an air of tension about him, like he’s always on alert. I can’t help but wonder what’s really going on behind those guarded eyes.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say, clinking my glass against his. “It was nice… getting to know you.”
He nods, his gaze locked on mine. “Likewise.”
We sip our wine in silence for a moment. I can feel the heat building, a slow burn that’s been simmering all night. I don’t know what it is about him, but he has this pull on me, like gravity, drawing me closer even though I know I should be careful.
“So,” I say, setting my glass down. “What happens next?”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by my boldness. “Next?”
I lean in slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Do we keep playing this game, or do we stop pretending there’s nothing here?”
His breath hitches, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to stay in control, to keep his walls up, but I’m not about to let him. Not tonight. I reach out, brushing my fingers against his hand, and I feel him tense under my touch.
“Stella,” he says quietly, his voice rough as if he’s issuing a warning. “Be careful. I don’t play games.”
He means it to be a threat, but if anything, it sends a rush of heat to my core. How is it possible for him to get even sexier right now?
“Neither do I,” I reply, my gaze steady. “But I think we’re both lying if we say there’s nothing between us.”
He’s silent for a long moment, and I can practically see the battle raging in his mind. Then, before I can fully register what’s happening, he leans in and captures my lips with his. The kiss is sudden, almost desperate, like he’s been holding back for too long and can’t stand it anymore.
I melt into him, my hand slipping up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips are firm, demanding, but there’s a tenderness there too, a vulnerability that makes my heart ache.
But just as quickly as it started, he pulls back, his breathing heavy, his eyes wide with a mix of desire and regret.
“Fuck. Fuck… I… I shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.
“Why not?” I ask, my voice softer now, still breathless from the kiss. “It’s okay, Samuel. I want you. I want you to kiss me.”
His intense blue eyes dart across at me, but there’s a shield over them again. He shakes his head, already stepping back, putting distance between us. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Before I can say anything else, he turns and walks away, leaving me sitting there, confused and yearning for more. The kiss lingers on my lips, the taste of him still fresh.
I can’t help but feel like something important just slipped through my fingers. All I can do is watch him disappear into the night, my heart pounding in my chest.
What the hell? Who is this guy and what’s his deal? How the hell do I break down those barriers he’s fighting so damn hard to protect?
Before I can spiral too far into my thoughts, a pair of arms suddenly pulls me up and drags me over to the bar. I turn to see Freya, clearly tipsy and grinning like a madwoman.
“Stella! You have to come dance with us!” she slurs, dragging me toward a group of guys who are laughing and swaying to the music.
I glance back at where Samuel disappeared, my mind still reeling from the kiss. Freya pulls me onto the dance floor. The music is loud, the lights are bright, and the energy is infectious.
But all I can think about is him.
Him and that kiss.
He might not be here anymore, but I know one thing for sure—I’m not done with Samuel. Not by a long shot.