5. Zoey
Zoey
I lay in Liam’s arms, fully spent, and deeply annoyed.
Not about the arms. Those were fine. No, I was annoyed about the realization that slammed into me. I’d just had the best sex of my life—by a wide margin.
I shifted, intending to put space between us, and instead ended up closer. His arm tightened at my back immediately. I looked down at my naked body tucked into him, looking so relaxed and cooperative, and felt personally betrayed.
Fucking traitor.
As I slid my hand over his warm, excessively muscled chest, my brain attempted one last objection, then fully disengaged from the conversation.
He was hot.
Also—and this part felt objectively worse—he was calm. Not sleepy calm. Settled calm. The kind that made tension feel unnecessary in hindsight. Like his body was actively working to regulate my nervous system.
He brushed his thumb along my shoulder, and my muscles loosened without consulting me.
I didn’t appreciate how easily my body cooperated with him.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
I ran through the usual list. Water. Food. An exit plan. A personality reset. None of it applied.
“No,” I said. “I need you to not move.”
There was a pause, then he adjusted his arm, anchoring me where I was. He let himself somehow relax even more into the mattress. The sound he made was low and satisfied. Content.
It was the worst possible outcome, and to my extreme irritation, I felt satisfied and content too.
I tucked my head under his chin and pressed a kiss to his chest. My body settled immediately. My shoulders dropped. My spine relaxed. Every muscle that usually stayed half braced went quiet without asking permission.
He tipped his head down and kissed my hair, then my forehead.
My nervous system responded by fully clocking out.
Exhaling slowly, I sank closer, my leg sliding over his without thought, my hand flattening against his chest like it belonged there. I would have crawled into his skin if it were physically possible.
Jesus Christ.
Easy whore.
The insult lacked conviction. My body didn’t care. It stayed warm and pliant and deeply pleased with its choices.
“This is dangerous,” I muttered.
He sounded amused. “You’re safe with me.”
I didn’t argue. We stayed there, pressed together, his warm, steady hand on my back. Mine stayed on his chest.
I told myself I would regret this in the morning, but I closed my eyes anyway.
If this was a mistake, it was a very comfortable one.
I woke up already alert, my heart thudding like it had missed a memo.
There was no slow drift into consciousness, no pleasant fog, just a hard, immediate sense that something was off.
Then I remembered exactly where I was. Dark room.
Liam’s arm heavy across my back. My body still warm and loose and deeply uninterested in panicking.
Traitorous.
I shifted carefully, testing. My ankle answered with a sharp reminder that it had not signed up for any of this. I bit my lip.
Okay. Fine. Crisis acknowledged.
I could not spend the night with this man. At least not the whole night.
I turned just enough to wake him. “Hey.”
He came awake fast, already focused. He looked at me, then at the clock, then back at me. He didn’t speak right away. That alone was irritating.
“I need to go back to my suite,” I said. “Can you walk with me?”
He nodded and pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced at my ankle. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” I said. “Mostly.”
He pulled on jeans, then got a shirt out of a drawer and pulled it over his head.
I sat up, regretting it immediately. The room tilted. My ankle sent another complaint, and I swore under my breath.
“Still want to walk?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said again.
He didn’t argue.
When I stood, my ankle buckled, and I grabbed the bed to steady myself. “Okay. So. It’s worse.”
He moved in without touching me, but he was so close, he might as well have been touching me. “We’ll go slow.”
“I hate that phrase,” I said.
He snorted. “I believe you.”
I froze. I looked down, around the room, back at him.
“My clothes,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“They’re by the hot tub,” I said. “I forgot them.”
“We’ll get them on the way.”
He tossed me a plain gray T-shirt. It was soft from too many washes, the collar a little stretched out. It smelled clean and familiar in a way I didn’t expect.
We stepped out into the hall, the quiet closing in around us. With the low lights and the hush in the air, the place felt asleep.
“So. Great ambiance. Very mysterious,” I said, trying to force some levity.
He glanced at me. “You’re limping.”
“I’m thriving,” I said.
I made it three more steps.
“Lean on me,” he said.
“No.”
“Zoey.”
I sighed and acquiesced. He adjusted immediately, moving his arm so my weight rested more comfortably. He slowed his pace without announcing it.
We walked in silence after that. Twice, I opened my mouth to say something. Twice, I closed it again. Nothing I had queued up felt right.
The hot tub area was dark and empty. Steam still clung to the water. Our clothes sat in a damp pile where we’d left them.
“Hold on,” I said.
He turned away without me asking him to.
I dressed quickly, wincing when I pulled my shorts over my ankle. I kept his shirt on and carried mine. Liam didn’t look at me until I said I was ready.
“Okay,” he said. “Almost there.”
We resumed our slow march. The path lights clicked on ahead of us, one by one. He watched the ground more than the buildings. I watched him watching the ground.
“Thank you,” I said, too abruptly.
“For what?”
“Everything,” I said. “The not-letting-me-die. The walking.”
“You’re welcome.”
That was all he said. No further commentary, no quips, or flourishes.
My suite came into view, and I felt a strange tug of relief mixed with disappointment I refused to examine.
I dug the room key out of my pocket and unlocked the door.
I turned to him before I could think better of it.
“Thank you,” I said again. “For a really good night.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I am. Well, mostly.”
We stood there for a beat. Too long. Too quiet.
“Goodnight, Zoey,” he said.
“Goodnight, Liam.”
He turned and walked away. I watched him go. Broad shoulders. Steady stride. Not once did he look back.
I stepped inside, then closed the door and leaned against it, ankle throbbing, pulse still off rhythm.
I would never see him again.
A shame.
I smiled anyway.
I had my hand on the door when my phone buzzed. I didn’t look at it before answering. Only one person would call me this late.
“Hi, Mom,” I said.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said. “Can you check the weather for me?”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wood. Solid. Real. I held there.
“What weather?” I asked.
“At the port,” she said. “The one we’re supposed to dock at in the morning. Or is it evening there by you? I can’t remember.”
“You’re seven hours ahead,” I said. “It’s still the middle of the night for me.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right. Sorry, honey. Are you busy? You sounded far away.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m on a weekend getaway with friends.”
“Oh!” she said. “That’s wonderful. I love that for you.”
“I know you do.”
“You work so hard,” she continued. “You deserve something nice. I’m really proud of you, you know that.”
That landed. I stood there and let it.
“Thanks,” I said. “Where are you exactly?”
She brightened. “On the ship. I had dinner with the Thompsons. Or maybe the Johnsons. Very nice people. The soup was excellent. Anyway, the captain said there might be some bad weather, and I thought I should check.”
“Okay,” I said. “What’s the port?”
She told me. I unlocked my phone and pulled up the forecast. It called for wind, a little rain, some swells. Nothing dramatic.
I took a screenshot and sent it to her.
“There,” I said. “You’re fine.”
“Oh good. I knew you’d be able to pull it up quickly. I’m sorry I woke you,” she added. “I forget you’re not just… there.”
“I’m there,” I said. “Just not on call.”
She laughed, light and unbothered. “Right. Well. Have fun with your friends. Be safe. Use protection.”
I stared at the wall. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you.” I hung up and let my arm drop.
The hallway was quiet again.
I stood there for a second longer than necessary.
Well. That was a nice whiplash back to reality.