Chapter 21
Caleb and I fall asleep tangled in each other’s bodies, and when I wake up a few hours later, I have to extricate myself like a game of reverse twister.
He doesn’t wake up when I go, and I don’t make him.
Instead, I carefully creep back through the galley and down the stairs before anyone in the staterooms has any idea I’m gone.
I get back to my room and collapse onto my pillows.
Did that really just happen? Even if my last relationship had about as much passion as a board meeting, I’m not exactly inexperienced—but what I just felt with Caleb was something else completely.
That was the kind of sex that launches warships.
The kind that makes you feel so connected, you still feel their heartbeat when you’re walls apart.
I’m almost reluctant to take a shower even though, after the things Caleb just did to me, I know I need one.
But I don’t want to wash the lingering smell of his aftershave off of my skin.
I turn on the water and strip off my clothes. I should be regretful, or at least filled with terror at the possibility of anyone on the ship finding out. But the only thing I feel is joy. I was wrong about Caleb: he’s not stuck-up or emotionless or any of the terrible names I called him in my head.
I did it for you, Stella. For once, I wanted to be the reason you were smiling.
I step out and stare at my face in the mirror to make sure I’m not dreaming.
Everything looks right… except for the dark red bruise just above my collarbone.
Is that a hickey? I dig through my toiletry bag to find something to fix it, but I’ve never worn face makeup a day in my life.
Unless I want to cover it with waterproof mascara, I’m SOL.
I run to my closet and search for something I can use to cover it up. But all I have are tank tops and sun dresses. Why couldn’t we be on a ski trip? The only thing I find with a collar is a velvet bathrobe with the Vela Bianca monogram.
Bathrobe it is.
“Morning!” I say as I drop down into the stool next to Jules, hoping my cheeriness hides my nervous lilt. Matthew and Steven are still sleeping, which means I have fewer people from which to hide my obvious guilt.
“Good morning, Stella!” Harry greets me as I pile some pineapple onto my plate. My sister takes one look at my wet hair and emerald green robe and narrows her eyes in suspicion.
“You never shower in the morning,” she says. I pause mid-pineapple.
“I’m tired.” True. “I thought it would help wake me up.”
“I knew you were up late. You weren’t in your room last night when I came to say goodnight.”
Shit. I know that tone. The look that says, whatever BS you’re selling, I’m not buying it.
I never snuck out of the house as a teenager: I was more likely to be curled up with a book than pounding Pbr’s in a friend’s basement.
But no one escapes childhood without testing a few boundaries.
Or, in my case, hiding my pet mouse in my sleeve for two weeks so I could take him to school.
“I was stargazing,” I cover quickly. “I couldn’t sleep for some reason.”
Some reason. You try sleeping with a six-foot-two sea god squashing you to his chest.
“I’m sorry, babe,” Jules says. “Anything I can do?”
Stop asking me stupid questions! I fume internally. Outwardly, I press on one of my most convincing fake smiles.
“I’m fine, thanks.” At least I’ve learned something from the Warrens. “Just need a nap at some point. What’s on the agenda for—“
“Good morning, Caleb!” Arthur shouts across the room, rattling my ear drums. I turn to see the offending party himself traipsing down the stairs.
“Morning, all!”
We’re past the butterfly phase, now—this time my body turns to full on spaghetti.
Please don’t come over here, please don’t…
Caleb saunters over to us and stands not five inches from me, his blue eyes glinting as if he’s had the most restful sleep of his life.
“How’s everyone doing this morning?”
He plants his hand down on the black granite counter just inches from mine and I pull my fingers into my lap, terrified they’ll develop a mind of their own. I can smell his piney aftershave from here: a scent that, just a few hours ago, filled my nostrils as his tongue slid down my neck.
I pull my robe up instinctively.
“Fantastic, as always,” Harry answers. “It’s hard to spend a bad day aboard the Vela Bianca!”
“Well, today’s no exception. We’re headed to a tidal sandbar for a burger cookout. Vegetarian burgers included, of course.”
Caleb looks at me, his direct eye contact accompanied by his signature right-leaning smirk. It’s the same one that lost me the trampoline tournament, only this time, the stakes are considerably higher. How is Caleb so calm and collected when I’m sweatier than an iced-tea on a hot day?
“Excellent!” Harry exclaims. “Girls, wait until you see this place. The beach is extraordinary—more shells than you can count!”
“We’ll be underway shortly,” Caleb tells us. “Should be about a two-hour journey to the bar.”
“Excellent,” Arthur says. “Thank you, Captain.”
Caleb nods to us before retreating down the hall. As soon as my heart rate returns to something resembling normal, I excuse myself as well.
“Stella, you’ve barely touched your breakfast!”
“Not hungry,” I tell Jules. “I’m saving myself for those veggie burgers!”
I make sure my collar’s sufficiently popped before I extricate myself from the stool and slip down the hall.
I don’t make it very far before something hooks me by the belt-loop and pulls me into the galley doorway.
“H—” I start, but I can’t so much as squeeze out a vowel before Caleb’s lips are on mine.
He pulls me into an intoxicating kiss, eliciting a very ladylike squeak from me as he grabs the curve of my ass.
I can feel him smiling into my mouth as he lets up, and I lean into his hands, sure that all my bones have actually been liquified.
Once I regain the faculty of speech, I push him back.
“What are you doing!” I whisper-hiss. “I think my sister suspects something. We need to be careful.”
“This wouldn’t be because you’re having second thoughts…”
He runs his hand around my waist to the front of my belt loop and gives it a teasing pull.
“No!” I protest. Second thoughts, third thoughts, hundredth thoughts—my head’s spinning with them. But they look a lot less like regret and a lot more like the brothel scenes from Game of Thrones.
“Definitely not. I just think we need to cool it for a day or two.”
Caleb nods.
“Roger that. I’ll keep my distance. Just promise you won’t go spinning out on me again if I start acting cold.”
“Spinning out?” I protest in too loud a whisper.
“I only mean that you have a tendency to make assumptions, and I want to make my intentions clear. I meant everything I said last night. That, and the last time I tried to ignore you, it didn’t go so well for either of us.”
My heart rate excels to light-speed as Caleb leans in close enough to brush his lips against my temple.
“Just know that if it looks like I’m trying to keep myself from ravaging you in the hallway,” his teeth catch my earlobe as he runs his fingers inside my robe and down my stomach, pausing just at the top of my underwear, “it’s because I am.”
He steps gracefully backwards just as Gia steps into the hall, her arms full with a tray of leftover fruit. I’m so stunned I forget to make up an excuse.
“Gia, do we have any Advil on hand? Stella’s got a bit of a headache,” he says without missing a beat in his militant get-shit-done voice. How can he switch from sex god to drill sergeant in half a second when my knees are still trembling like jello?
“Oh no!” she answers. “Of course. I’ll have Allie bring some down to your room.”
“Thanks Gia,” I murmur, and Caleb nods to us before marching back down the hall.
“Ladies.”