“Alright, come on,” I say, taking the last step toward him and reaching out to lift his arm. He jerks it away and turns his head in the opposite direction.
“No. I’ll sleep in the tub,” he says, and takes a step forward, before tumbling to his knees. I dart out in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing them back to keep him from toppling over and slamming his face into the ground.
He falls forward, his hands wrapping around my waist, his fingers digging into my sides. I feel the flex of his fingers, before his hands fist in the fabric, and I realize the mistake I made, putting us in the same position we were in hours ago.
Except this time, he’s on his knees.
And completely intoxicated.
He looks anywhere but my face, and I gulp down the lump forming in my throat. He won’t kiss me again, not if he regretted it immediately last time.
“You’re not sleeping in the tub,” I say, my voice breathier than it should be. “Because if something happens, I can’t lift you out of it.”
“Jorn would help, just get Jorn,” he says, his eyes still averted.
A laugh escapes me. “If you’re any indicator, I don’t think Jorn will be useful for anything tonight.”
“Sig then.”
I roll my eyes and groan. “Ugh, will you just do as you’re told?”
A grin breaks out across his face, and he giggles like a little boy at some unknown joke. His chin lifts, and his eyes are full of laughter as they meet mine.
“Yes, princess,” he grumbles, and a shiver runs up my spine.
Just get him into bed, Lennox.
Stepping to his side, I lift an arm so it is draped across my shoulders, and he pushes up to stand, wavering slightly once he’s back on his feet. We take a step together, and I stagger under his weight. There’s no way I’ll be able to fully support him. He’s more than double my size and towers over me, not to mention how heavy his limbs are because of the drink. We shuffle and stumble together across the room, just barely past the desk, when he clears his throat.
“I shouldn’t have done that, princess. It won’t happen again.”
The low rumble in his chest would normally make my stomach flutter as I feel it where I’m pressed into his side, but the words filled with sincerity cause it to sink instead.
Even as I read, trying to drown my own thoughts away with someone else’s words, I couldn’t stop from replaying his kiss in my mind. The way he held me, the way he pulled me in tighter, his fingers twining in my hair, the scrape of his beard on my skin. When I kissed Dane, it was thrilling, exciting, and new. I enjoyed kissing him, and I wanted more.
But kissing Weston felt like I was on fire, and he was consuming me with every stroke of his tongue and press of his fingers. Every shared breath took mine away, and nothing else existed. Not the ship, not the crew, not the island, not even the immense pain I’d been suffering through all day.
I thought he felt it too, but I was right.
It was a mistake.
It’s obvious now that every time we were close, there was something holding him back. But in that moment, he lost control. I could see the desire in his eyes, even now when he’s too impaired to try to hide it, but desire wasn’t enough to overcome whatever is holding him back after the unusual friendship we’ve developed.
I wasn’t enough.
The last thing I want is for him to see any hurt in my eyes, to know that my fingers started tingling and my chest tightened the moment he said it will never happen again. I need him to think it meant just as little to me as it did to him.
A temporary lapse in judgment.
The result of being too close to someone for too long.
The result of sleeping in the same bed.
Just pent up tension and frustration that needed a release, and now we can move past it.
I must have stayed quiet for too long because he speaks again before I can think of what to say.
“I’ll get in trouble,” he mutters under his breath.
