Page 78 of Revenge Honeymoon

Why was he just standing there? When was he going to grab her around the waist and kiss her again?

He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Well, guess I’d better go to bed.” Was this really how it was going to end? She waved her card in front of the key reader, paused, and then faced him. “Unless—” Would he get the hint?

“Good night, then.” He brushed the hair away from her eyes.

This was it. He was going to do it.

He leaned in.

She held her breath.

He kissed her on the cheek.

The cheek.

What?

He backed away with a wistful smile on his face. “Good night, Emily.”

“Good night,” she mumbled.

Her posture slumped. She unlocked the door and slipped inside. That was not how the evening was supposed to go with the sexy dress and the ultimate plan. Instead, he’d been kind and wonderful and respectful. A gentleman.

Ugh.

The dark, empty cabin awaited her like a cat lady’s apartment after animal control removed all her furry companions. Ruby had decided to spend the rest of her evening at one of the bars for some stand-up comedy.

Every nerve ending in Emily’s body was firing with need. She’d built up an expectation of how the night would play out, and it ended with nothing more than a chaste ‘good night’ at the door. Only—she counted on her fingers— a handful of days until the cruise was over and they were leaving the ship and going back to their normal lives.

Emily was not going to miss this chance. For once in her life, she was going to throw herself out there. If she was humiliated so be it. She could avoid Max the rest of the cruise. But this might be her one opportunity to tell him how she felt and delete those photos.

She slipped her shoes back on, rearranged the girls in the revealing dress, and stomped down the hall.

* * *

Max floated back to his cabin, his feet lighter than air. He had the perfect date with Emily. The amazing and incredibly sexy kiss in the elevator, a delicious dinner, and conversation that flowed easily. So easily he was shocked. He’d never been on a first date quite like it.

Was that how dates were supposed to be?

Because every other date before tonight paled in comparison.

Emily had been funny, sexy, and real—and completely unaware about any of it. When she’d stumbled over a few words as she drank her second glass of wine, she had blushed the most attractive shade of pink. When she’d dropped a bit of duck in her lap, she’d made a joke about saving a snack for later. Even when he pointed out a little bit of food in her teeth, she’d laughed and thanked him for it. Penny would’ve given him a dressing down in front of the whole restaurant for saying something like that. Nothing about their date had been awkward or uncomfortable.

As he waved his room key in front of his door, he thought about how difficult it had been to leave her at her cabin. He wanted nothing more than to repeat their kiss in the elevator and follow it through to the end. All of it. Beginning, middle—oh, especially the middle—and the end. An end he couldn’t even imagine as the real thing would be infinitely better than any fantasy he could conjure up.

When he leaned toward her for a goodnight kiss, he knew he had to rein himself in or he’d lose control. And she deserved to be treated with care and concern and respect. He’d never desired a woman more, while at the same time wanting to take his time and make sure she felt the same.

But the way she’d looked at him—with half-lidded eyes and kiss-bruised lips—required him to use every ounce of self-control to redirect his mouth to her cheek.

He stepped into his dark cabin and unbuttoned the top buttons of his dress shirt. Was it hot in here? He checked the thermostat—sixty-eight degrees. He took off his shirt and tossed it on the bed. His armpits were sweaty. A shiver ran through him.

Damn, he couldn’t turn it off. His sex drive was barely under control. His mind returned to the softness of her body when they’d kissed. Every curve under his hands. Her skin hot beneath the form-fitting dress.

Why was he torturing himself?

Time for a cold shower.

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