Page 33 of A Perfect Disaster

Because the real problem isn’t the brutal physical attraction I feel toward her. If it were just sexual tension, it would be awkward, something I could handle. The real problem is that with Maika, it’s never been just that. During these first few days, we’ve clicked again, working together on the decks in a way so fluid and natural it’s scary; as if the years apart never existed. That’s what truly terrifies me. Kissing her last night on the deck was a tactical mistake. But feeling like I fit with her again… that could become the iceberg my career is going to crash into.

I need to regain the professional distance that has always defined me. I need to remember who I am: Helen Müller, Security Officer, respected by the crew and with a bright future in the shipping company. Not a woman incapable of thinking about anything other than the lips of the entertainment coordinator. Although, technically, that is my pathetic current reality.

“Damn you, Maika,” I mutter toward the sky.

I slowly make my way back to the beach. As I step out of the water and walk toward the sand, the sun’s heat begins to dry my skin, leaving a thin layer of salt behind. In the distance, I see that Maika has already joined an impromptu game of beach volleyball with Nico and the sound technicians. She bursts out laughing when Nico misses a ridiculous spike, and immediately jumps to save a ball with such energy that it seems to infect the entire beach. Her laughter reaches me clearly, carried by the wind.

I watch her for a second. She turns her head at that very moment, almost as if she could feel the weight of my gaze on her back. But I look away from her and run off toward my new victim.

“Put some sunscreen on me, you idiot,” I tell Gonzalo. “And don’t you dare say a word,” I warn him.

He smiles and gets to work. It’s going to be very hard to keep my cool for the rest of the cruise. Although maybe that won’t be the worst of my storms.

12

Maika

Having had the chance to go down to the cove in Marseille and enjoy that day off with the team has not only allowed me to unwind. It’s also helped me confirm what I suspected: I’m not, by any means, indifferent to Helen. As much as she resists behind her strict officer facade, I’ve felt her gaze fixed on my body on more than one occasion. And that silent insistence says a lot more than the kiss we shared last night on the deck.

When Gonzalo let slip on the beach the plans he had with her, I didn’t hesitate to pull some strings with the entertainment crew to improvise that joint excursion. I needed an alibi, a natural setting to break down her defenses and remind her of what we’re capable of igniting when we let our guard down.

Now I’m in the area reserved for the officers’ cabins, standing in front of her door. My heartbeat is pounding in my temples, causing a heat that has nothing to do with the June sun that has just set behind the harbor. I’ve thrown a light beach dress over my bikini; the thin fabric still holds the sea’s moisture, clinging to my skin and brazenly outlining the hardness of my nipples.

Through the bulkheads, I can hear the murmur of the crew preparing for departure and the return of the passengers, but I have no intention of letting this opportunity slip away. Not after seeing the hunger in her eyes on the sand. After last night’s kiss—the one she cut short before fleeing as if her lips were on fire—it’s become clear to me that these years of distance have been for nothing. I desire her with the same unbridled intensity as the first time. A raw, animal desire that has my heart pounding even before I’ve so much as brushed against her.

I knock on the door. When the latch gives way, the door swings open to reveal Helen wrapped in a white company-issued towel that barely covers her thighs. Her wet hair is dripping onto her forehead, and her eyes reflect an instant storm: surprise, disbelief, doubt, and that same burning impulse that’s consuming me right now.

“Maika…?” she asks immediately, poking her head out to scan the officers’ corridor on both sides. “What are you doing here? We have less than fifty minutes before we have to be ready. You should be getting changed for the aft deck activity. We don’t have time.”

“I think we have enough,” I reply.

I take a step forward. Helen steps back out of pure instinct, and I close the door behind me, locking it. The cabin is an intimate, modular space typical of life on board, lit only by the golden glow of the lamp on the chart table. The air is thick with the scent of her perfume, the trace of salt I carry on my skin, and the clean steam from the shower gel she just washed with. An intoxicating blend that makes my pulse race all at once.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she says, though her eyes drift down the neckline of my dress with a hunger that gives her away. Her pupils are dilated, black. She’s lying. We both know it.

“Don’t be silly, Helen.”

I step closer until there’s no space between us. I raise my hand slowly and cradle her cheek, brushing her lower lip with my thumb. She’s trembling.

“It wasn’t right of you to leave me stranded on the deck. You know that, don’t you?” I murmur in a hoarse voice, my lips close to her face. “I had a really hard time falling asleep. But something tells me you did, too.”

Helen seems to have lost her breath. The military stiffness of her posture crumbles for a few seconds.

“I’ve been imagining this all day on the beach,” I continue in a whisper, running my fingers down her neck. “And I’m not going to keep pretending anymore.”

I feel the exact moment her resistance breaks. Helen reacts by grabbing the back of my neck with surprising strength and slams her mouth against mine with the same fury and pent-up need as that night. Her lips are demanding, hot, desperate. Her tongue invades my mouth and I welcome it with a stifled moan, tangling with it, savoring it as if the ship were going to sink tomorrow. My hands slide down her back and pull the knot of the towel, which falls to the cabin floor.

Her skin is still warm from the water, glistening in the golden light. My palms trace her ass, squeezing it possessively to press her against my hips, seeking an electric connection that makes me moan.

“That thing at the beach… it was a trap with your signature on it, wasn’t it?” she gasps against my lips, without breaking the rhythm of our mouths. “I swear I’m going to send Gonzalo to stand guard in the anchor room…”

I undo the ties of my bikini beneath my dress and my breasts are set free, heavy and with stiff nipples. Helen’s hands cover them instantly, kneading and pinching just enough to draw a long moan from me that fills the room. She pushes me toward the mattress and we fall, tangled in a jumble of limbs. My clothes disappear in a matter of seconds, tossed somewhere on the floor. Now it’s just skin against skin, sweat, and a visceral hunger that won’t listen to reason.

I kiss her neck, biting her skin right where her pulse races beneath my tongue. I trail down her collarbone, devouring the path until I capture one of her nipples with my mouth. I suck on it hard, circling it with my tongue as Helen arches her back and digs her nails into the back of my neck, holding me there.

My hands explore every inch of her body: the pronounced curve of her waist, the tautness of her belly, and the ultra-sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. I spread her legs firmly and slide down. I kiss her navel, lick the line of her hips, and inhale her most intimate scent. When my mouth finally presses against her sex, Helen shudders from head to toe.

She’s completely soaked. I part her swollen lips with my fingers and run my tongue with agonizing slowness from her entrance to her clitoris. She tastes of desire, of Helen. I lick with ravenous hunger, tracing concentric circles around her most sensitive spot, sucking on it until her voice breaks. I slide two fingers inside her, and I thrust into her with a steady rhythm while my mouth continues to devour her down there.