7
Robin
I stare into Colter’s dark eyes.
Did we just do what I think we just did?
We must have, because my lips are still tingling from the kiss and I can still taste him. The music pulses around us, but I barely hear it. All I can focus on is him.
Then he kisses me again.
It’s deeper this time, more deliberate. He cups my face like I’m something precious, and I melt into him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to keep myself upright. When we finally separate, we’re both laughing—breathless, giddy, ridiculous.
“I’m horny as fuck,“
I admit, because apparently my brain-to-mouth filter has completely shut down.
Colter’s eyes darken. He pulls me closer, so close I can feel every inch of him pressed against me. “I can help take care of that problem.”
I can’t stop smiling. My cheeks hurt from it.
Colter leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “I think it’s time for Marc to get locked out of our cabin.”
I laugh and nod, and then we’re moving through the crowd, his hand warm in mine. We steal kisses along the way: against a wall near the stairs, in the corridor outside the elevator, inside the elevator when the doors close and we’re blissfully alone until we remember it has glass walls. His mouth is addictive. I’d forgotten how addictive.
No. That’s a lie. I never forgot. I just tried very hard not to remember.
By the time we reach his cabin, we’re breathing hard. Colter fumbles with the keycard, cursing under his breath when it flashes red the first time. I press myself against his back, lips finding the spot behind his ear that always made him shiver.
“You’re not helping,“
he groans.
“I’m not trying to help.”
The light flashes green. We tumble inside.
The cabin is dark, but neither of us bothers with the lights.
Colter’s hands are under my shirt, warm against my skin. My hands are in his hair, pulling him down to meet my mouth.
We fall onto his bed and almost roll right off the other side.
“Jesus,“
Colter laughs, catching himself on the wall. “Why are these beds so tiny?”
“Cruise ship chic,“
I manage, pulling him back down.
He settles on top of me, his weight familiar and perfect, and for a moment we just breathe. His forehead rests against mine. His thumb traces my cheekbone.
“Robin,“
he murmurs.
“Yeah?”
“I really want to—”
“I know.“
I swallow hard. “Let’s make a promise. Not more than this. We need to keep it casual. Uncomplicated.”
Colter pulls back slightly, searching my face. “You sure?”
“No,“
I admit. “But it’s the wise thing to do. We’re on a cruise ship. Holiday brain, remember?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then he nods. “I can do that.“
He lowers his head, his lips brushing my jaw. “Can I still make you feel good?”
My breath catches. “God, yes.”
He takes his time. That’s the thing about Colter—he’s never been one to rush. He kisses down my neck, my collarbone, my chest, each touch deliberate and reverent. When he tugs at the hem of my shirt, I lift up to help him pull it off, and then his mouth is on my skin and I’m arching into him.
“Fuck, I missed this,“
he murmurs against my stomach. “Missed you.”
I want to say it back. I want to tell him I’ve missed him every single day, that my bed has felt empty without him, that sometimes I still reach for him in my sleep. But the words stick in my throat, so I just thread my fingers through his hair and guide him lower.
He undoes my shorts, pulling them down along with my underwear. The cool air hits my skin, and then his breath, warm and close, is on my cock, and I have to bite my lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.
“I’m negative,“
I say. “Haven’t been with anyone since …”
“Same.”
I don’t want to unpack what it means that neither of us has been with anyone else since we broke up. That was months ago.
“You don’t have to be quiet,“
Colter says, looking up at me. His eyes are dark, hungry. “I want to hear you.”
Then his mouth is on me, and I stop thinking entirely.
He knows exactly what I like. Every swirl of his tongue, every gentle pressure, every moment when he takes me deeper—it’s like he’s memorized the map of my pleasure and he’s determined to hit every landmark. My hands fist in the sheets. My hips buck up, and he lets me, one hand pressing gently on my stomach to steady me.
“Colter,“
I gasp. “Colter, I’m—”
He hums in response, the vibration sending sparks up my spine, and that’s all it takes. I come with his name on my lips, my whole body trembling, and he works me through it until I’m boneless and breathless and utterly wrecked.
When he finally pulls off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he’s smiling. That satisfied, smug smile I used to love and hate in equal measure.
“Your turn,“
I say, and flip us over.
He laughs, but it dies when I start kissing my way down his body. He’s still wearing too many clothes, so I fix that, pulling off his shirt and shorts until he’s bare beneath me. He’s beautiful—he’s always been beautiful—and I take a moment just to look at him.
“Robin,“
he breathes. “Please.”
I take him into my mouth slowly, savoring the weight of him on my tongue, the way his breath hitches when I swirl my tongue around the tip. His hand finds my hair, not pushing, just resting there, his fingers trembling slightly.
I set a rhythm, slow at first, then faster when his hips start to move. I know his body as well as he knows mine, so when his breathing turns ragged and his grip tightens in my hair, I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, and he comes apart with a low groan that sends heat pooling in my stomach all over again.
I work him through it, gentling as he comes down, pressing soft kisses to his hip, his stomach, his chest. When I finally crawl back up to lie beside him, we’re satisfied and smiling like literal cats that got the cream.
“That was amazing,“
Colter says.
“Yeah,“
I say. “It was.”
We lie there for a while, catching our breath. His hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining loosely. It feels natural. It feels right.
But I can’t stay.
“I should go,“
I say quietly.
Colter turns his head to look at me. “You could stay.”
“I know.“
I sit up, reaching for my clothes. “But we agreed. Casual and uncomplicated, remember?”
He doesn’t argue. He just watches me dress. When I’m fully clothed, I lean down and give him one last kiss, slow and sweet and full of all the words I can’t say.
“Goodnight, Colter.”
“Goodnight, Robin.”
Jules is already in the cabin when I get back, lounging on his bed with his phone.
“There you are,“
he says, sitting up. “How was your day?”
“Good.“
I kick off my shoes and collapse onto my bed, hoping I don’t look as thoroughly kissed as I feel.
“Just good?“
Jules raises an eyebrow. “You were out all day. Snorkeling, then dinner. That’s gotta be more than good.”
I think about our plan. The one Colter and I hatched this morning, about pretending to be back together to mess with Jules and Marc. I could do it right now. I could tell Jules that we’ve rekindled things, watch his face light up with triumph, let him think his scheme worked.
But I can’t.
I can’t pretend I have the one thing I really want. Colter. Because we agreed to keep things casual. If I give in to my holiday brain, ocean air, and close proximity, then my heart is going to break all over again.
And this time, it’ll be unmendable.
“It was just a nice day,“
I say, rolling over to face the wall. “I’m tired. Goodnight, Jules.”
There’s a pause. “Goodnight, Robin.”
I close my eyes and try not to think about Colter’s hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, the way he looked at me like I was everything.
I fail completely.