They lay, staring at each other, the moment stretching and crystallizing into something that felt monumental. Mary could see everything she felt reflected in Bert’s eyes… love, longing, hope, fear, determination. All of it right there on his face, completely open to her in a way that made her chest ache.
Then he kissed her. It started soft and gentle… a good morning kiss that was sweet and tender. But it deepened quickly, heat building between them as Mary’s hand slid into Bert’s hair and his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
This was different from their previous kisses. Those had been declarations, admissions, the first tentative steps into new territory. But this was need and want and the knowledge that they belonged to each other, and they’d finally stopped pretending and could just be.
Bert’s hand slid from her face to her neck, his thumb stroking the pulse point there, and Mary made a small sound in the back of her throat that seemed to undo him. He rolled, careful not to jostle her too much, until he was half over her, his weight supported on his forearms but his body aligned with hers in a way that made her upper body nerves light up, and her legs feeling a slight pressure from his.
“Mary,” he breathed against her lips, and there was so much in that one word.
“I know,” Mary whispered back. “I know.”
They kissed as though they had all the time in the world. Just the two of them, learning the taste and feel of each other, discovering what made the other gasp or sigh or press closer.
Bert’s hand slid down her side, careful and reverent, and Mary arched into the touch, wanting more but also knowing they couldn’t. Not yet, not with so much unresolved between them and a mission to complete. But she wanted to. She wanted to explore where this heat between them could lead and find out what their bodies could do together. She wanted to stop being afraid of disappointing him and just trust that they’d figure it out.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Bert rested his forehead against hers. “We should stop.”
“We should,” Mary agreed, making no move to pull away.
“We have to be at breakfast. Keep eyes on Diane and Colin.”
“I know.”
“But I really don’t want to stop kissing you.”
Mary laughed, breathless and happy. “Me neither.”
Bert kissed her once more, quick and sweet, then rolled away with visible reluctance. “Okay. We’re getting up. We’re being professional. We’re remembering we have a job to do.”
“Right. Professional.” Mary watched him climb out of bed, admiring the way his sleep shirt pulled across his shoulders. “Very professional.”
“You’re not helping,” Bert said, but he was grinning.
They moved through their morning routine with the kind of careful coordination required by the small space. Bert went first, showering and shaving while Mary organized her clothes for the day. Then they switched, Mary maneuvering into the bathroom while Bert checked his phone for updates from Logan and the team.
She went through her routine with practiced efficiency. The shower was blessedly hot, and Mary took her time, letting the water ease muscles that were slightly sore from sleeping in an unfamiliar bed and the stress of the past few days.
She was just finishing when she heard Bert’s voice through the door. “Hey Mary, Logan sent an update. Sisco and Sadie have looked at the first batch of photos?—”
The bathroom door, which Mary could have sworn she’d latched properly, swung open.
They both froze.
In the process of drying, she sat on the shower bench, a towel held in front of her torso, but her legs were completely exposed. And not just exposed, but visible in a way they’d never been to Bert before. The scars from the accident and subsequent surgeries were stark against her skin. A long surgical scar down her right thigh, where they’d operated to relieve pressure on her spine, was next to smaller scars from the pins and rods that had been necessary to stabilize her pelvis, the distinctive marks from where they’d cut her out of the car.
Her legs, once whole and strong, were now simply there. Present but not functional in the way legs were supposed to be.
Mary’s first instinct was to cover them, to hide the ugly evidence of her injury. But to do so would mean she would drop the towel covering her breasts. And while there was nothing wrong with her breasts, her brain short-circuited as her face burned with embarrassment. Filled with vulnerability, she forced her gaze to stay on him, expecting to see pity in his eyes. Or worse, awkwardness. The kind of uncomfortable expression people got when confronted with a physical condition they didn’t know how to process.
But when she looked at Bert, standing frozen in the doorway with his phone still in his hand, what she saw wasn’t pity.
His eyes had darkened, pupils dilating as his gaze traveled over her. Not lingering on the scars with fascination or uncomfortable avoidance. Just... looking at her. Seeing her. And the expression on his face was pure want. His lips curved slightly as he muttered, “Absolutely gorgeous.”
Before she could think of a response, he backed out of the doorway, pulling the door shut with a quiet click. Mary heard him retreat across the stateroom, giving her privacy and space to process what had just happened.
She sat there for a long moment, the towel clutched against her chest, her mind racing. Bert had seen her legs. Seen the scars, the evidence of her injury, all of it laid bare. And he hadn’t looked away in disgust or discomfort. He’d looked at her and declared her beautiful. And she believed him.
Mary finished drying off with hands that trembled slightly, then dressed in the comfortable pants and soft sweater she’d selected earlier. Her morning routine took longer than usual as she positioned her legs and secured her chair, making sure everything was properly arranged. But she moved through it with determination rather than the shame that had threatened to swamp her moments ago.