Page 52 of Ship Wrecked

His warm, calloused hand patted her shoulder in mute affirmation, and then it simply... stayed. Lingered. Cupped that curve of muscle and gently kneaded, his thumb brushing the nape of her neck.

This was—different. Peter usually avoided physical contact with her off camera, other than occasional high-fives.

She definitely wasn’t complaining.

This time, Nava cleared her throat. Twice.

When Peter and Maria looked her way once more, she bit her lip for a moment before continuing. “Anyway. As Ramón was saying, we owe you a debt of gratitude. We may have theoretically been in charge, but you two set the tone. We couldn’t have asked for better actors, but more importantly, we couldn’t have asked for better people as our colleagues and friends.”

Shit, Maria was going to miss everyone from the island. Mourn their absence like family.

“Aww, Nava.” Maria flung her arms around her friend and held on tight. “I’m honored. And if Ramón ever misbehaves, let me know. I stole Cassia’s ax from the set earlier today, so I can easily exact blood-soaked vengeance on your behalf.”

“I’m going to miss you, you thieving, murderous bitch,” Nava whispered against her shoulder, voice choked. “Please stay in touch.”

“Takes one to know one, as Americans like to say. I saw you sneaking off with Cassia’s hero sword.” Maria swayed her from side to side. “And if you think you can shake me loose at this point, you’re terribly mistaken.”

“Hey. I want in on this action.” Ramón sounded a bit hoarse himself. “The hugging action, not the thieving action, just to be clear.”

Then he gathered both women close, Peter joined the huddle, and they were all sniffling a bit. Even Peter, although he kept tilting his face up to the ceiling and blinking hard.

“P-Peter took those torn-up leather pants of his.” Maria’s nose was starting to run, and she discreetly blotted it against his button-down. “They’re essentially chaps at this point. I can only assume he’s joining a troupe of male strippers.”

“Snitches get stitches, Pippi.” It was a pained grunt from her neck, where he’d buried his face at some point.

Again: not complaining.

Nava huffed out a laugh. “Ramón took a rock from the original wall you two built. It’s shaped like a heart, because he’s secretly sentimental as hell.”

“Untrue. I have a soul of flint, stony and cold,” he protested.

“You have a soul of marshmallow fluff.” After one final, breath-stealing hug, Nava let go and directed a watery grin at Maria. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to make everyone a scrapbook commemorating our years on this island. A mixtape too. He’ll force you to listen to it while he watches your reaction on FaceTime, and when Green Day’s ‘Time of Your Life’ starts playing, he’ll sob into a pillow.”

Maria shook her head. “Old people.”

After she planted a kiss on Ramón’s cheek, she somehow found herself in Peter’s embrace again. He hugged her from behind, one arm circling her upper chest, the other her belly, while he pressed up tight against her back.

“Um, I think...” Lips twitching, Nava glanced at Ramón, who responded with an odd sort of snorty sound. “We should... go. But please make sure to say goodbye before you head for the ferry tomorrow morning. Doesn’t matter how early it is.”

If Peter’s increasingly hard dick weren’t pressing against her upper ass, Maria figured she’d be fighting tears again. But it was, which made focusing on her sincere grief remarkably difficult.

Still, she blew her dear friend a kiss. “Will do.”

Then she and Peter were finally alone, and he snatched her hand and tugged her into the hall, just out of sight of the rest of the party.

His broad palm cupped the back of her skull as her shoulders hit the wall. Before her next gasped breath, his thigh pushed between hers, his free hand gripped her hip, and he’d ducked his head to whisper directly in her ear.

“It’s been six years. I can’t wait any longer.” His lips were soft,his breath hot. “Maria, if you want me even a little, let me take you to bed tonight. Please.”

She could ride that thick thigh. Grind against him until she came. It wouldn’t take long, not after the way he’d pushed her against the wall. Surrounded her. Claimed her with sure, hard hands. But she had to think first.Think.

Sex. He was asking for sex. Not a commitment. Not a romantic relationship.

And foolishly, she was going to say yes, because she wanted him too, and not just a little. Even though it was probably a mistake—and it would definitely blur that strict line she’d maintained for so long, that stalwart barrier separating quick fucks from lovers who could offer the sort of future she needed. Not that she’d come across any of the latter for some time now.

Sex with Peter wouldn’t be a quick fuck, and it couldn’t truly be casual for her, not after so many years of close friendship. Their connection had long ago encompassed much more than physical desire. With the exception of her family members, she trusted him more than any man on the planet.

With her body, anyway. Her devoted friendship too.

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