Page 124 of The Vacation Mix-Up
I shake my head, caught off guard. “My favorite color?”
“Yeah.” Her cheeks lift into a timid smile. “You said I could ask you anything.”
Knowing she’s deliberately steering the conversation for mybenefit, I smile too, my eyes catching on her dress, shimmering in the dim light. “Purple.” I tilt my glass at her. “Thatpurple.”
Her lip quirks. “Liar.”
“I’m not. It’s the prettiest color I’ve ever seen.”
“Uh-huh.”
I clear my throat. “How about you? What’s your favorite color? No. Wait. Let me guess. Green?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your bag, suitcase, and most of your underwear are green.”
Her back straightens. “You went through my underwear?”
“No.” I raise my hands, chuckling. “I opened drawers to find an empty one.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Fine. Yes, my favorite color is green.”
“I especially liked the pale lacy ones.”
“Riley!”
We spend the next couple of hours talking about anything and everything—movies, music, food, and growing up. We have similar tastes in most things and are polar opposites with others, but what stands out most is our shared grief. We can communicate it, communicate around it, and not once is that communication coerced, forced, or awkward. Talking with Riles is effortless, therapeutic, and enjoyable.
After what feels like a lifetime but also no time at all, Captain Katarina makes an announcement that the Aurora Borealis may soon be visible, so we leave the bar and head out on deck to a quiet spot at the stern of the ship, the wind sharp and bitterly cold, like tiny shards of ice piercing my skin.
Shivering, Riles rubs her bare arms as she leans over the railing a fraction to see the ship’s wake. “So this is what Rose saw on theTitanicbefore she climbed over.”
I remove my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. “Want me to hang you over the edge for a more realistic experience?”
“Thank you.” She slips her arms into the sleeves. “And no thank you. I’ll stay right where I am. Rose was a crazy bitch.”
“I could draw you naked if you’d prefer?”
She turns to face me and wraps my jacket across her chest. “Are you any good?”
“Let’s go back to the room, and we can find out.”
I’m no fucking Picasso, but I’d pretend to be if it resulted in her naked and lying on our sofa.
“Riley, it isn’t a good id?—”
Stepping closer, I tilt her chin upward with my finger. “Look up.”
She complies, then gasps at the green veils of light rippling through the starlit sky. “Wow! It’s…. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful.”
Her eyes dip to mine again and then lower to my lips, my body tingling at the unspoken invitation. It’s now or never. A moment you seize or stupidly let pass by. I’m not a stupid man, so I slide my hand to the back of her neck and press my mouth to hers, her breath warm and sweet as she exhales and relaxes into me, her hands gliding up my back before gripping my shirt.
Warmth rockets from my toes to my head, and I groan, kissing her like I did the first time, softly to begin with, my tongue gently lapping at hers, my arms holding her to me.
Riles moans and pulls back, and just when I think she’s going to object, she sucks in a ragged breath and tugs my head back to hers, our kiss now frenzied, our mouths nipping and hungry.
“Fuuuck,” I growl, trailing my lips down her neck and back up again, the taste of vanilla, peanut butter, and Riles making me wild.
