Page 48 of Ship Happens

“CEO things,” he repeats with amusement. “Very technical terminology.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He stands when I do, moving around the table. “But before you go...”

He stops in front of me, close enough that I can smell his cologne. My body remembers his touch from last night, from the morning’s shower, and it responds with embarrassing eagerness.

“What?” I ask.

“I forgot to say good morning.” His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Considering how we woke up.”

“Oh.” I swallow hard. “That’s... an oversight.”

His smile turns predatory making my knees weak. “I’d hate to be thorough in waste management reports but neglectful in personal matters.”

When his lips meet mine, any pretense evaporates. I’m kissing him back, as my hands find his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath my palm.

The kiss deepens, his tongue teasing mine as his hands slide down to my waist, pulling me against him. I make a small sound of approval when he backs me against the dining table, his intentions very clear.

“I thought—” I gasp as his lips find my neck, “—you had meetings.”

“Rescheduled,” he murmurs against my skin. “CEO thingsprivilege.”

“How convenient.” My head falls back as he nips at my collarbone.

“Very.” His hands find the hem of my shirt. “May I?”

“Please.”

My shirt joins the laptops on the table, followed by my bra. Ethan’s appreciative gaze makes me forget all about boundaries and post-cruise complications.

“You are extraordinary,” he says. “Absolutely extraordinary.”

I should be embarrassed by how responsive I am to his touch, to the naked admiration in his eyes, but instead I feel powerful. Desirable. I reach for his shirt, impatient to feel his skin against mine.

“Off,” I demand, tugging at the fabric.

He complies, pulling the shirt over his head to reveal the chest I’ve been exploring over the past forty-eight hours. I feel the definition of his muscles, enjoying the way his breath catches when my fingers brush over sensitive spots.

“Bed?” he suggests, voice strained as my exploration continues downward.

“Too far,” I decide, undoing for his belt. “Here.”

His eyes darken with desire. “Dr. Bennett, are you suggesting we desecrate the dining table?”

“I’m suggesting you stop talking and start doing, Mr. Cole.”

He laughs, the sound transforming into a groan as my hand slips beneath his waistband. “Your directness is incredibly sexy.”

“Less commentary, more action,” I insist, though I’m smiling against his lips as he kisses me again.

This is hungry, desperate—clothes pushed aside rather than removed, the dining table creaking beneath me as Ethan positions me at its edge.

When he pushes inside me, we both groan. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper as his hands grip my hips with delicious intensity. There’s nothing gentle about this—we move together with urgency, the table shifting beneath us.

“Ethan,” I gasp as he hits the right spot, pleasure building. “Right there—don’t stop?—”

“I am not stopping,” he growls, adjusting his angle to hot the right spot. “Come for me, Harper. Let me feel you.”

---