Page 33 of Dreamboat

I manage a soft laugh. “Literally.”

“Literally,” he repeats, nodding slowly. “Do you think Matt will get married soon?”

I shake my head and shrug a shoulder. “I really don’t know. Why?”

His gaze searches my face. “We spoke briefly about what might happen if we cross paths at his wedding.”

I’m hit with the memory of that conversation and immediately I laugh again. This time it’s a true laugh. “We’ll say hello, maybe share a dance and we’ll recreate what we did on this trip.”

“Only the good parts,” he adds.

I want him to promise we will, but I don’t because we can’t predict what will happen when that day arrives.

He glances at the watch on his wrist. “I need to head back to my room to pack up.”

I’ve already done that in anticipation of us sharing the rest of the voyage together, but I’ll use the time to sit on the deck and reflect on everything I’ve gained from this trip.

He stands first before he reaches a hand to help me get out of my chair. He’s been nothing but courteous and caring to me throughout our time together. I’ll leave this ship with memories that will fuel me for years to come.

I rest my palm in his as I stand. I glance down at the wrinkled skirt of the white sundress I’m wearing. I barely wore any of the dresses I brought with me, but the exchange for not being able to show off my cute wardrobe was hours and hours spent in his stateroom.

He brings my hand to his lips to kiss it softly. “This isn’t goodbye quite yet. I want to see your face again before we part ways.”

“Let’s meet in the spot we first saw each other before we dock.”

“The piano bar?” he questions.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there,” he promises.

I want to ask him to walk me back to my cabin now, but since he hasn’t offered, I stay quiet.

“I’ll see you then, Delia.” He leans forward to brush his lips over my cheek.

I catch his gaze one last time before he turns and walks away from me.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Donovan

When I stroll into the piano bar, I spot Delia immediately. She’s wearing the very same dress she was the first night this ship set sail. Her hair is different, though. She’s pinned it up on top of her head. Several strands have fallen out of that and are resting against the side of her breathtaking face.

I stand in place, just fucking staring at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.

I never imagined when I boarded this ship that I’d leave it a different man.

I can’t attribute that change to the sex, although it’s by far the best I’ve ever had. Even now, with people milling about, my cock is swelling beneath the dark pants I’m wearing.

I rub a hand over the back of my neck. Sweat peppers it. It’s not from the button-down shirt I’m wearing. I left the two top buttons open and the sleeves were rolled up to my elbows moments after I put it on.

I’m sweating because I’m feeling something I’ve never felt before. It’s regret. None of that is related to what Delia and I have done during this trip. It’s all on me for not telling her that I want more.

Jesus, do I want more.

I want days, weeks, months, hell… I want years more with her.

Her gaze travels the room until it lands on my face. I see joy there, or something akin to it.

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