A moan and a sigh.
Then, he was fully submerged, so deep inside me I wondered where I ended and he began.
And we were home.
If I thought I was shaking before, it was nothing compared to now. I trembled relentlessly, fingernails digging into his shoulders and back as Finn held fast to my hiked-up leg and withdrew only to bury himself again.
The groan that vibrated through him filled every need I had, that sound better than any word he could have uttered. He was overwhelmed with the feel of me, with the feel ofus. His pace quickened from deep, rolling thrusts to punishing flexes. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to be like the tattoos spanning my skin — painful and lovely and permanent.
And I wanted to mark him just the same. I wanted to pierce through his soul and fasten myself like a tungsten ring. He could never cut me out. He could never rid himself of my love.
I knew he’d never want to.
It was dizzying and obscene, the way we crashed together without any hesitation, without any regard for the impact of theearthquake we caused. The waves of our decisions could wash away an entire city and we’d make the choice to do it again.
The truth wasn’t always beautiful and pure.
Still, he felt so right. This moment, this surrender — it was heaven disguised as sin. I knew even as I lost myself to Finn that night that everyone would judge us and find us guilty. No one would understand.
But we were meant to be.
Words were lost to the sea the longer Finn found himself between my thighs. When he came, his body locking up tight before it shuddered beneath my fingertips, I found my third release, too. I clung to him, and he buried his face in my neck, his cock in my cunt, his heart in my soul.
We barely finished that round before the next one began.
I rode him slowly and passionately. We limped to the shower under the guise of getting clean only to give in to even more filth once the steam was rising around us. Finn helped me crawl into the sheets only to crawl in behind me, pull me flush against him, and rock himself inside me once more.
Night had bled into morning by the time exhaustion became too heavy for either of us to fight.
“I should go back to my cabin,” I tried, but Finn hooked his arm around me and pulled me closer.
“Stay.”
“Finn…”
“I’ll set an alarm,” he promised. “We can sneak back to our cabins in a few hours. We can figure out what we do next tomorrow. But tonight, just…” He sighed, his lips feathering a kiss to my spine. “Stay.”
My heart surged out of my chest at the desperation in his voice. I nodded, letting him roll away from me only long enough to set the alarm on his phone like he promised before I was clinging to him again. I burrowed into his embrace — his legbetween mine, my thigh hitched over his hip, our arms wrapping one another up like someone was trying to tear us apart and we refused to let them.
I fell asleep with my head on my ex-boyfriend’s chest.
And woke to complete fucking chaos.
POST-PRODUCTION CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
SEASON 4
BERNARD EVANS: SECOND STEWARD
PRODUCER
Let’s go back to the drama that unfolded between charters seven and eight.
Bernard rubs hands together, smiles.
BERNARD