Page 51 of Passing Ships

“Okay,” she murmurs, blissfully satisfied by her orgasm-induced haze.

Amiya

I lost my virginity in college. I know, hard to believe in this day and age that a girl’s hymen could make it to the ripe old age of eighteen, but mine did.

I’ve had a few lovers since Stephen Hill’s lackluster deflowering, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve achieved multiple orgasms at someone’s hand other than my own.

Never have any of them achieved a three-peat.

I’ve heard other women wax poetic about what great lovers their men were and even listened as Avie described how Sebastian’s sexual abilities could make her soul leave her body, but I never believed the hype.

Until now.

When I awaken to the smell of bacon cooking, my body is still boneless from the thorough attention it received last night, and I have to force my limbs to comply with my desire for nourishment and get up out of bed.

I toss on a pair of terry-cloth lounge shorts and a tee and make my way to the kitchen, where a shirtless Lennon is standing in a pair of sweatpants.

“Good morning,” he says as he removes a pan from the burner and turns off the element.

I grab a mug from above the sink and shuffle to the coffee maker, where he has a full pot waiting.

His arms come around me, and he sets a carton of milk on the counter next to the sugar bowl.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” he says into my hair.

“Thanks.”

I fill my mug with coffee and an unnecessary amount of milk and sugar. I like my coffee light and sweet. Then, I take a seat at the island and watch as he moves effortlessly around the small space.

“You cook.” I state the obvious.

He shrugs. “I’m not the best, but I can scramble an egg.”

“I guess they probably teach you that skill in the Navy, huh?”

“Not really. However, I did share a house with one of our culinary specialist trainees once, and I picked up a few tricks from him. Most of my knowledge comes from Nana. She didn’t want me to starve when I was out on my own, so she taught me a few things,” he says as he loads two plates with bacon, eggs, and toast.

He slides one in front of me and hands me a fork.

“My grandmother tried to teach me, but I was a horrible student. My culinary skills end at frozen waffles and pizzas. Although I can snazzy up a frozen pizza like a champ. Toss on a little extra mozzarella and sprinkle on some fresh basil, serve with a Chianti, and, voilà, gourmet on a budget,” I declare.

He chuckles. “I’ll have to try that sometime,” he says as he takes a bite out of a strip of bacon.

I pick up my fork and dig in. My stomach is grateful for the sustenance.

“What’s on the bridal agenda for today?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I exclaim. “Avie has to work. They have a nest that’s hatching early on the east side, and Momma C and Milly are driving to Charlotte to pick up the bridesmaid dresses. So, after I FaceTime a few clients, I can spend the rest of the afternoon working on my tan.”

Avie works for the Sandcastle Cove Sea Turtle Rescue and Rehabilitation Center. They patrol and protect the nests of the endangered species on the island as well as lead conservation efforts.

He glances from me to the windows and back. “Not sure you’re going to get much sunbathing in today. Looks like it’s going to be a rainy one.”

I look over my shoulder to see the dark clouds looming outside. “Boo,” I mutter. “Guess I’ll have to settle for vegging on the couch.”

“Want some company?” he asks.

“Sure.”

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