Page 23 of Faking It at Sea

She grabbed us each a bottle of water from the bar, handing me one as she pressed the icy plastic to the side of her neck. “I got hot,” she explained.

It took effort to tear my gaze from where she rolled that bottle along her delicate flesh. The urge to kiss her again pulsed inside me like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. Want. Need. Want. Need. It was like it was counting down the precious hours and minutes I had left to convince this electrifying woman to give me a real chance.

Down, boy.I cracked my water open and drained half the bottle, letting the shock of cold wash through me. Just becauseshe had fun dancing, it didn’t mean she would suddenly be game for throwing caution to the wind.

June sipped her own water, scanning the crowd. She shifted on her feet, and I thought I heard her whimper.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She shifted again and showed off one dainty shoe. “They’re cute, but I think I’ve done all the dancing I can do in them tonight.”

“So, take them off.” I offered her what I hoped was a teasing smile. “I promise I won’t step on those adorable toes.”

She brought the bottle up and took another sip before answering. “With those moves, I have no doubt. Which brings me back to the unexpected. Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“College parties, mostly. Why? Where did you learn your salacious moves?”

June snorted a laugh. “I don’t think anyone has ever called anything I did ‘salacious.’”

“I stand by my assessment.” Because she was that and so much more.

She searched my face, rubbing her plump lips together. “Would you mind walking me to my deck?”

“It would be my pleasure,” I answered, though it was a half-truth. I would have gladly spent the rest of night talking with her, but I wouldn’t push.

She was overheated and sore, and we’d spent a huge chunk of the day together. It could just be that she needed to get off her feet and steal away for a little alone time. It was a sentiment I could certainly understand.

Besides, I still had two days to win her over, right?

A few minutes later, after a slow walk where we joked and laughed about the music and the dancing as the chaos of the deck party faded behind us, the elevator doors hissed open.Motioning her inside, I put my forearm up to hold the doors open without following her in.

“I had fun tonight,” I said.

She touched a button on the screen before leaning against the back wall of the elevator with one graceful ankle crossed over the other, and one shapely leg peeking out between the layers of her gauzy dress. “Me, too. But you’re not off the hook yet, mister.”

I arched a brow. “No?”

“You agreed to escort me to my deck, remember?”

I’d been trying to give her space and end the night on a high note, but if she wanted to take an elevator ride with me, who was I to argue? “Indeed, I did,” I said, stepping over the threshold. “Better?”

She waited until the doors glided shut to crook her finger and beckon me closer. My feet moved like there was an invisible string stretching from my heart to the tip of that elegant digit.

“You said earlier that you wanted me all to yourself.” Her words, soft and dangerously seductive, reignited the fire that I’d been trying like hell to let die down.

“I did.”

“Do you still?”

Yes, because I wanted—needed—to taste her again. But also no, because just breathing the same air as her had a way of bringing down my defenses. If I let her in too far, watching her leave at the end of this cruise would shred what was left of my scarred heart.

“Yes,” I breathed the first truth, giving in to the hunger burning in my veins.

“Well?” she motioned to the otherwise empty elevator.

What am I waiting for?

I crowded into her space, took her face in my hands, and kissed her hard. It was nothing like earlier when I’d been holding so much of myself back that I thought I might burst into flames.That was still very much a possibility, but now it was for a different reason.

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