Chapter 23
Now
Here I thought our biggest obstacle would be Liam and I getting along. Turns out we’re getting along a little too well, and the real issue is that our divorce papers are currently in my sister’s cabin.
“What are we going to do?” I ask as soon as the door to our cabin shuts behind us.
Liam runs a hand through his still-damp hair. “There must be something.”
“What if we just say it’s the wrong envelope and ask for it back?” I try.
“But what if she tries to check?” He shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”
“We could say it’s a prank?”
His mouth flatlines. “Great idea. I’m sure everyone will find that hilarious, especially when they find out it’s fucking real.”
I wince, not appreciating his tone. “Well, why don’t you come up with a plan, then.”
“My plan would have been to not bring divorce papers on a trip where the explicit intention is to keep said divorce a secret.” His eyes cut to mine. “But since that’s not an option…we could steal it back,” he says.
I cough out a laugh. “Steal? What do you mean, steal?”
“We sneak into their cabin and switch the envelope with the divorce papers out for the right one,” he says. “She’ll never know.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Okay, Nicolas Cage. You want to break into their cabin and switch the envelopes?”
“We will,” he says matter-of-factly.
I flick one eyebrow upward. “We?”
“Yes, Ros. We.”
* * *
“This is a mistake,” I say, my head snapping back and forth as I look up and down the hallway outside Bella and Chris’s room. “We’re totally going to get caught.”
“We’re not going to get caught,” Liam says, sliding his black Amex in and out of the space between the door and wall.
“According to Jonah’s itinerary, they’re at yoga on deck.
By the time they get back in”—he checks the time—“thirty-seven minutes, we’ll have swapped envelopes and be safely back in our room getting ready to go zip-lining, with them none the wiser. ”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually thankful for my brother’s overzealous planning right now,” I say, watching Liam’s hands as he readjusts the credit card, trying to get just the right angle to unclasp the lock.
I know the primary area of concern should be the whole breaking-and-entering thing—and that we’re moments away from getting caught in a huge fucking lie—but right now my focus is entirely diverted to the veins in Liam’s arms and the inconvenient heat between my legs. Damn him and his slutty forearms.
“I’m pretty sure that only works if you’re George Clooney in one of the Ocean’s movies,” I say, watching him slide the credit card back and forth.
“It’ll work,” he says. “I’ve done it a million times.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“Not breaking into someone’s stateroom,” he says. “But I’ve jimmied a lock just like this before.” When I gawk at him, he adds, “I learned it at school.”
“They teach you that in medical school?” I ask, my eyes growing wide. “Because if I’d known, maybe I wouldn’t have dropped out.”
“Boarding school,” he corrects. “My mates and I used to break into the kitchen after hours and steal food.”
While I don’t know much about Liam’s childhood in England, I’ve gathered from brief mentions of boarding school and skiing in Gstaad that his family is well-off.
But after his dad kicked him out and cut him off financially, most of Liam’s higher education was funded by academic scholarships, part-time jobs, and loans he will be paying off for the next thirty years.
“Who knew you had a criminal history,” I say. “Anything else I should know? Grand theft auto? Racketeering?”
A low laugh hums in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t look up from the lock. A second later it clicks. “See?” he says, catching my eye.
I shake my head, unable to deny that I’m at least a little impressed. And aroused. Dammit. Why does Liam have to be so competent?
The door swings open to reveal Bella and Chris’s mercifully empty room.
Their room is the same as ours, except messier. It looks like day three of a girls’ trip to Vegas in here.
“I feel creepy,” I say, my eyes dancing from the blue bra flung over the back of a chair to the crumpled pair of boxers peeking out from under the bed.
“We’re just switching the envelopes and leaving, not going through their stuff,” he says, looking in a drawer.
“What if we see something?” I ask.
“Like what? The envelope?”
“No, smart-ass. Like sex toys. I so don’t want to find a pair of handcuffs,” I say with a shudder.
Liam’s brows draw together. “Since when are you a prude? We’ve used handcuffs loads of times.”
Heat scorches down the back of my neck, and I’m met with the sudden urge to turn and run.
Though it’s unclear whether that’s because he just casually brought up our sexual past like it’s a brand of detergent we used to buy, or the memories it resurfaces.
Memories neither of us has any business reliving while we’re sneaking around my sister’s cabin, looking for divorce papers.
“I’m not a prude,” I say, peeking through a drawer. “I’d just prefer not to know what kind of kinky shit my sister is into.”
And I definitely don’t want to think about the kinky shit we used to do.
I continue digging through one of the nightstand drawers, thankful for a reason not to look at Liam, until my gaze lands on a manila envelope.
“Got it!” I cry, holding it up triumphantly.
“Great, switch the envelopes then let’s get out of here before—” But Liam doesn’t finish his sentence because muffled voices can be heard outside the door. We both freeze, our eyes darting between each other and the door.
“It’s them!” he whispers. “They’re back!”
Two beats of panic pass, then the lock clicks, followed by the smooth whoosh of the door opening.
We’re so fucked.
But just as I’m bracing myself to be caught, Liam grabs me by the waist in a football-style tackle and rolls us both under the bed.
My first thought as the tail end of Bella’s laugh floats through the room should be relief that we’re hidden, or perhaps fear that we’re probably seconds away from getting caught.
Instead, all I can focus on is the centralized heat of Liam’s hands on my waist, his breath hot and ragged against my neck as he pulls me flush against him.
There’s probably a really good reason we’re touching like this. But for the life of me, I can’t think of what it is. I can’t think at all.
“I’m so sorry,” Bella says, her voice cutting through my horny thoughts.
“Sorry for what?” Chris asks. His voice is low and sultry, almost teasing.
“I’m sorry, but due to the outrageous costs of privatized health care, I won’t be able to afford my bill, Doctor,” Bella says in an exaggeratedly sexy voice. “Is there another way I can pay?”
“Wait. I thought you were the doctor this time?” Chris whispers.
“No, I was the doctor last time,” Bella whispers back, dropping the sultry tone. “Now it’s your turn.”
Ohmygod. Are they…role-playing?
Chris clears his throat. “I think something could be arranged,” he says.
Bella giggles. “What do you have in mind, Doctor?”
“Why don’t you go to the bed and I’ll show you.”
Oh God. They are.
Maybe if I wasn’t trapped under the bed with my ex’s hands still wrapped around my waist, about to hear my sister have wild sex, I’d ponder the ethics questions surrounding two med school students playing doctor/patient, but I’m too busy trying to hold on to my vomit.
The air fills with the sounds of sloppy, wet kisses and short, gasping breaths before Bella says, “I’m so glad we’re doing this. Can’t let Liam and Roslyn have all the fun on this trip.”
And just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse, it has indeed gotten worse. Not only am I about to have a front row seat to my little sister having sex. It’s also apparently inspired by Liam and me.
This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to be a role model for my little sister.
I look to Liam to see how he’s handling this, but his eyes are shut tight like he’s praying it will end soon. Finally something we can agree on.
“I want you to do that thing to me,” Chris says, his voice low, like a roll of thunder. “The thing I like.”
Oh, please God, don’t let it involve fluids.
The sounds of zippers being unzipped are followed by the mattress squeaking, and all the while I wonder if this is karma for lying to everyone. Though I must have done something right because a phone chime cuts through the cacophony.
“Baby, is that yours?” Bella asks.
“It can wait,” Chris murmurs.
“But what if it’s your advisor?” she asks. “I thought you were waiting for a call about that internship?”
The bedframe groans, and a moment later Chris says, “Shit, it’s her. I have to take this.”
A beat passes, then they are off the bed, tugging on clothes, and I’m breathing a sigh of relief, thankful the worst minutes of my life are now over, until I see it. A lime green thong next to Liam’s head.
I nudge Liam in the ribs and point to it.
She’s gonna see us! I mouth.
What do I do? Liam mouths back, his eyes panic-stricken.
Move it!
His gaze widens, horrified. I am not touching your sister’s knickers!
If you don’t, she’ll see us!
There’s a brief moment of hesitation in which Liam looks like he’s debating whether he’d rather die than touch Bella’s thong, but he reaches out and flicks it away.
I hold my breath, waiting to see if Bella makes a comment about flying underwear, but they continue to dress in silence. A frenzied minute later the door shuts, and they’re gone so fast, it’s almost like the whole thing didn’t happen. If only that were true.
“Are they gone?” Liam whispers.
“I think so.”
Liam rolls out from under the bed before helping me to my feet.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look my sister in the eye again.”
“Same. I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing they’re into…”
“Role-playing doctor?”
He winces. “I don’t even want to begin to psychoanalyze that.”