Chapter Seventeen PHILLIP
Chapter Seventeen
PHILLIP
I feel a lot of things while staring down at Casey, our hands linked together—none of them good or easy. Though her current predicament takes precedence, I’m in a tricky position of my own, thanks to her. When she left my suite this morning with that quick send-off about needing to hurry off to work, I stood at my door and watched her walk down the hall, wondering about the pang in my chest, that niggling feeling I was too chicken to give a name to. It seemed best, and easiest, to make a clear goal for myself: I wasn’t going to seek her out today. Not again, not after last night.
Now here she stands before me, like a wounded bird. She’s never seemed smaller or more fragile than in her current state. Her brown hair hangs limp and damp from the pool. She’s still wearing her bathing suit and cover-up. With so little to go on, I’ve looked for something physically wrong with her—bruising, scratches—and thankfully come away with nothing. That’s not to say something physical didn’t happen to her, but I just don’t get the sense that’s what’s gone on here.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She opens her mouth to protest again, but I speak first.
“If you’d rather not, I understand. But I feel left in the dark here, scared to make a misstep with you.”
I’ve never been in this position before. I don’t know what’s right or wrong. Touching her, wanting to make her feel better seems natural, but then would that only make things worse in the long run? I don’t know anymore.
Outside of this moment, I’ve been having a slight freak-out of my own. I’ve been confused, most certainly. I’d like nothing more than to go back to feeling totally in control of my life, to tidy up all these loose ends and refocus on what’s important (or at least, what seemed important in the past), but Casey is all I can think about.
Tyson mentioned her at lunch earlier. It was only something simple. He asked if I’d had much more opportunity to see her around the ship, and I nearly chewed his head off.
“Why do you feel the need to pry into my life? That’s none of your damn business.”
He’d laughed it off. “Jesus. All right. I won’t ask again.”
Immediately after, I regretted how I responded. Getting my hackles up like that was clearly indicative of my state of mind. I’ve been worried about this ... fling with Casey, and having him ask about her made it all seem so obvious, as if everyone could see the situation clearly except for me. It pissed me off.
“I know I shouldn’t be here,” Casey begins. “But I just feel like ... I just want you for one more night. I swear it’s done after this.”
I close my eyes and stave off the urge to kiss her. God, I’m as desperate for the connection and intimacy as she is. I can no longer deny my full-blown attraction to her. The chemistry between us is explosive, but it feels so unnatural to give in to something I want, as if, surely, it’s wrong or bad for me in some way. Love should come prepackaged with labels and clear instructions. Love. I choke on the word. We’re not even close to that. Absolutely not.
This is just a fire between us—an inferno—and it will surely burn out.
So what’s the harm in giving in like she wants?
I don’t know. I can’t think clearly when she stands and presses her body up against mine, seeking me out. She keeps my hands in hers and circles them behind her back, forcing me into a hug. Her cheek rests against my chest, and her eyes close. We stay there long enough so that my entire body turns languid. I know how she’s feeling right now because I’m feeling it too. The touch of a lover—the soothing feel of being held in someone’s arms. Someone who cares for you.
I lean down and kiss the top of her head, and then I unwind our arms and lead her into the bathroom.
She’s still damp and probably cold. I crank the handle in the shower, letting the water run until it begins to steam and fog the glass. Caring for her seems right, so I don’t question it when I walk over and catch the hem of her cover-up, dragging it over her hips and stomach and chest until she lifts her arms and lets me take it off over her head. I drop it on the floor and then reach behind her neck for the strings of her bikini. She shivers as I work the bow loose. The material slips down, and then I untie the second one behind her back, and it falls away completely. I take a moment to look over her, memorizing her body, tan and pink and perky and so sexy that I have a hard time not touching her.
I want to tiptoe my fingers up the center of her stomach, cup her breasts, kiss her—push her down to the ground ...
Instead, I slip her bikini bottoms down so she can step out of them completely.
“Get in,” I tell her, nodding toward the shower. The water should be perfect now, and I watch her step in and stand beneath the steady stream. Water sluices down her collarbone, her breasts, her ribs ... stomach ... I watch a droplet make its way inside the groove of her thigh, and when I look up again, Casey’s watching me. Her face is red and splotchy—beautiful, always—but sad in a way that makes my breath hitch.
I want to know what’s bothering her, but I know I can’t keep pressing her, at least not right now.
She watches me undress. Originally, it wasn’t my intention to get in with her, but I want that closeness again. She’s a light I want to feed off of, take from , forever.
So far, she’s only managed to get wet, not wash off, so when I step in and close the glass door behind me, I reach for the shampoo and lather some in my hands before circling my finger so she knows to turn around. I don’t apply it masterfully—not like someone in a salon. But I pay careful attention to every bit of Casey’s hair, massaging her scalp and working the shampoo suds into every strand before rinsing them clean.
“Conditioner?” I ask, unsure of her routine.
She smiles over her shoulder and nods. “I can do it, though.”
Her voice is weak, not demanding, so I shake my head and continue. I’m enjoying it too much to give it up. After the conditioner, her hair is as smooth as silk. I gather it and twist, wrapping it around my fist like a rope, amazed by its softness. Casey releases a weak whimper, and I step toward her, pressing my front to her back, bending so my lips can graze the side of her neck.
“You’re so sexy,” I say, looking down the front of her body. God, the view is insane.
I want her all the fucking time, but right now, the need seems to churn viciously inside me.
She shimmies her hips, toying with me.
I release her hair and move my hands to the front of her body, sweeping my palms over her breasts, cupping her, teasing her. Her head tips back against my shoulder, and her lips fall open. My thumbs brush over the peaks of her breasts, and she moans, so I do it again, again, again . She’s grinding back onto my hard length, her hands coming around to grip my thighs and hold me in place against her.
Water pours over us as the heat ratchets up. My aim is to touch her tenderly, but then she works her butt against me and my control shatters. My arms move lower, one bands around her stomach and the other slips between her thighs. She’s so hot, so welcoming as my fingers glide across her. She bends one of her knees, spreading open for me so I can sink my middle finger into her.
“ Phillip ,” she breathes with a heady sigh.
It’s like she’s so relieved to have me here touching her this way. Like she was worried she’d never experience it again. Tonight is it. She said so herself: “I swear it’s done after this.”
The thought makes me feel wild and desperate. The thought of never having this body pressed against mine ...
No.
Don’t go there.
I close my eyes to those thoughts and press another finger inside her, pumping and working her up until I feel her starting to shake. I want her to come just like this, from nothing more than my thumb gliding across her in slow circles, my fingers sweeping inside her. She starts matching my rhythm, rolling her hips against my hand, taking from me in such a bold, sexy way. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever watched. I want more but not until after I’ve wrung the first orgasm out of her, forced her to cry out in this confined space. Pride unfurls inside me as her breaths quicken and her nails bite into my forearm. She rises up onto her toes and ... shatters.
“ God .” She’s shaking as she comes back down to reality, but when she turns and her eyes meet mine, they’re dilated and wild.
“More” falls from her lips just before she hauls her body against mine and kisses me with so much passion I groan. I hold the back of her thighs so she has no choice but to wrap her arms around my neck and let me lift her up off the tiled floor. I hold her against me as our kiss deepens. Our tongues touch. Dance. I grip ahold of her thighs so tightly that I’m probably hurting her, but she doesn’t protest. She mewls against me, sliding herself over me so that a few times, I accidentally slide inside her.
I don’t have a fucking condom, and I need to feel her right now.
We should stop, but she keeps rocking against me, up and down, so that I can’t form a coherent thought to save my life.
“I’m on birth control,” she says, her words slipping out around her heavy breaths.
And that’s all my brain needed.
A green light to sink into her to the hilt. We both sigh as she squeezes me tightly, wrapping her thighs around me as I press her up against the glass.
She winces against the chill, but then I distract her with my hand between her legs again. What follows is hot and heavy, unforgiving in a way that feels punishing for us both. I watch her body bounce on me, her breasts, her red lips, her wide blue eyes. I kiss her and feel that shift happening in her again, that unfurling. She lets me know she’s close, and I slow my pace but keep my hand pressed between her legs. I look down, watching what I do to her, and she likes that—seems to enjoy everything about this because she’s coming again, so tight it’s like she has me in a vise.
Jesus, I barely manage to pull out before I fist my length and rub up and down, finishing myself off, spilling down the front of her body. I watch the water wash her clean.
Neither of us moves.
I peer up at her, hoping for a smile or some kind of lightness there, but her expression mirrors my own. Troubled and confused, if I had to guess.
“Let me finish cleaning you,” I say, looking away.
I feel guilty for manhandling her like that. What started as soothing, controlled, and simple ... just got away from me. She does that. She draws that out of me.
I take care of her now, finishing with soap, rubbing her arms and legs. She’s quieter than ever. Passive and pliable. I cut the water and walk us out onto the heated tile floor. I wrap her up in a big towel, getting another for her hair.
She watches me in the mirror while I wring out her strands. I move, and she tracks me, lazy, sated, more at ease now than she was when I found her out in the hallway. It breaks my heart to think of her crying out there all alone.
“Do you feel like talking about it now?” I ask, my voice low.
She shakes her head, and I kiss her shoulder.
“All right. I’m going to order us some food. I’m starving. Let me get you some clothes to change into.”
In my closet, I find a soft T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants for her. I smile thinking of how she’ll look in them. Amazing , obviously, but cute too.
“You can tighten the drawstring,” I say when I hand them over to her. “They should work.”
She smiles and nods. “Thanks.”
She retrieves her things from the bathroom—her damp bikini and cover-up—and then she goes out into the living room to change into my clothes. I order room service, using the phone on my bedside table, likely overdoing it with strawberry and chocolate milkshakes, pizza, french fries—anything that seems delicious and might offer her some comfort.
When I’m done, I walk into the living room. “I should have asked you what toppings you want on your piz—”
My sentence dies once I realize Casey isn’t here, changing like I thought. I look around, searching briefly. The hallway bathroom is empty, and the light is off. The balcony is deserted too.
Holding out hope, I search the suite one more time, only to find my T-shirt and pants sitting neatly on the coffee table. Casey is gone.
Back in my bedroom, I go to check my phone—only realizing as I’m picking it up that Casey doesn’t have my number.
There is a text waiting for me, though. From Vivienne.