The waiters clear off the table, and I’ve barely eaten a bite. I don’t get why I let him get under my skin like that. It’s not like Captain Chuck over there’s going to steal her away from me. That look Angie gave me after our kiss? I want it all the time. We’re faking a lot on this cruise, but that was real.
Dessert’s served, and it’s crème brûlée. I grimace. The lowest common denominator of fancy desserts. My stomach rumbles, though, so I dig in like it’s food. I’ll get room service later.
“So Herb...” Chuck doesn’t even register until Angie kicks my shin. Fuck, her shoes are sharp. Also, gotta remember that I’m Herb. “Are you ready for tomorrow’s big event, then?” He winks at me, while Angie and I exchange confused glances.
“Absolutely.” I have no fucking idea. “Ready as ever. You going to be there?”
He laughs, a real belly laugh while he points at me. I chuckle along, but seriously, I really should figure out what this is all about. First the guy at my door this morning, now this. What did Dad have planned for Marie? I’m starting to think we’re in for a serious surprise tomorrow, and it won’t be good.
Chapter 17: Angie
Sun streams in through the window, searing my eyelids and forcing me awake. Blinking and rubbing my eyes, I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. Right. The cabin. The ship. Gavin. This morning there’s no warm, solid body behind me. He’s not here. Seems I have the room to myself.
It’s stupid to be disappointed, and probably just as well. Yesterday was crazy. Shopping, our fight, finding out about Paul, the dinner... The Captain was hilarious, and the food had been so good. Everything had been so fancy, and I’d fit right in. Even Gavin had been good, mostly.
And then there was the kiss.
My breath speeds up just at the thought, and I hate myself for how easily Gavin can do that to me. Life was simpler when could pretend it was just his body I liked. Is that idiot actually getting to me? Throwing myself back on the bed with a groan, I breathe out heavily, trying to think.
I was supposed to be on this cruise to have fun, with Paul. He was going to be my first. It would be perfect and we’d enjoy good food and complimentary champagne while we spent a couple of weeks together. Instead I’m stuck here with him.
When did the good guy turn into the bad guy, and the bad guy into the... not as bad guy?
I’d held out a little hope that Paul would call me back and explain, but he hasn’t, and I’m actually a little relieved. So many warning signs I’d ignored are obvious in hindsight. Better to find out before we slept together, but it still sucks. So now I’m single again, but it’s not like I can do anything about it here. Everyone thinks Gavin and I are getting married.
The bathroom door opens with a loud click, scaring the crap out of me. Gavin sticks his head out, hair dripping and broad, muscular torso exposed. He keeps his lower half covered behind the wall, making me wonder if he’s naked or not. Memories of his hard ass, his powerful legs, and his big cock spraying cum all over the shower door flash through my mind.
At this rate I’m going to need the shower. Cold.
He glances around the room before his eyes settle on me in just my underwear. He smiles slyly before speaking. “You alright? I thought I heard a noise.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Ah, alright.” He makes as if to close the door, but opens it again. “You weren’t playing with yourself, were you?”
“Get real!” Doesn’t he think of anything else? Speak for yourself, Angie. “No!”
“Were you thinking of me?” He leans forward, exposing just a little bit more. He’s got a bit of a trail of hair down the middle of his stomach and it leads straight to...
I have to think of something else. “You’re a perv.”
He laughs and shuts the door, leaving me to imagine him in the shower, all naked and dripping, the water running down those hard pecs and dripping off his muscular ass and... Oh, quit it! I wasn’t playing with myself, but now that my mind’s heading in that direction, it’s tempting to slip back in under the covers and slide a hand right into my panties.
I don’t, but more out of principle than anything else. Like I’d be letting him win. Well, that and I have no idea how much longer he’s going to be in there. I glance at the clock. 10:52. Outside, the weather’s beautiful, so maybe I’ll grab my bathing suit and catch some sun. Maybe some margaritas if I’m lucky. They don’t seem to bother carding me onboard, probably because of our reservations.
I change quickly before Gavin comes back out, and I’m just about to open the door when there’s a knock on the other side. Opening up, I find another pimple faced steward with a fuzzy attempt of a moustache perched on his upper lip. I doubt he’s even eighteen. Who hires these guys?