Page 37 of Rescuing Mia
“It is.” She hangs her head and stares at the deck beneath her feet. “I’m going to head down to my cabin for a bit, freshen up before we meet again. I just didn’t want any misunderstanding.”
I nod, understanding her need for space and time to process the intensity of our connection.
“Of course, take all the time you need, but I’ll be counting the minutes until I see you again.”
“You never stop, do you?” She laughs, shaking her head at my bold declaration.
“Not when it comes to something I want,” I reply, my voice low and filled with promise. “And right now, there’s nothing I want more than to spend more time with you.”
“Well, then, I guess I better not keep you waiting too long.” A blush colors her cheeks, and her eyes sparkle with anticipation.
She’s sending all kinds of mixed signals. If I push, I know exactly where our evening will end; my bed or hers, but I’m not the kind of guy who pushes a woman into bed when she’s clearly not ready for it.
Like I said, it either happens or it doesn’t.
Sometimes, the chase is the best part, and I don’t mind that one bit.
“I’ll be here, ready and waiting, whenever you’re ready,” I assure her, my heart already aching at the thought of being apart from her, even for a short while.
She hesitates as if debating something. Then, with a quick glance around to ensure no one is watching, she lifts on tiptoe and presses a soft, fleeting kiss to my cheek.
“Until tonight, and thank you for understanding.”
And with that, she’s gone, her lithe form disappearing down the deck, leaving me standing there, my skin tingling from the warmth of her lips, my heart racing with the promise of what’s to come.
I take a deep breath, savoring the salty sea air, the anticipation building in my veins. Something about this woman calls to me on a level I can’t quite comprehend. Whatever secrets she’s keeping, whatever demons she’s running from, I’ll keep her safe and help her find her way.
Because, in the short time I’ve known this mysterious and captivating woman, she’s already stolen my heart, and I’ll be damned if I let any woman face her troubles alone. Not when I have the power to stand by her side and fight for the happiness she so clearly deserves.
Chapter Seventeen
MIA
By the timeI make it back topside,Serenity’s dining room is a buzz of activity as passengers gather for the evening meal. The room is elegantly decorated, with plush carpets, polished wood tables, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a stunning view of the sunset-painted sky and endless expanse of ocean.
The gentle clinking of glasses and the hum of excited conversations fill the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.
I enter the room, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. It doesn’t take long to spot him. He’s like a lighthouse in a sea of people, impossible to miss. His tall frame and chiseled features stand out among the other passengers.
His stance is confident, and his movements are easy, indicating he’s a man comfortable in any situation. His physique, undoubtedly sculpted through years of rigorous training, complements his casual yet perfectly fitted attire in a way that draws more than a few admiring glances.
I can’t help but take a moment to appreciate the sight of him. His dark hair is slightly tousled as if he habitually runs his hands through it without a thought. His jawline, sharp and commanding, frames a smile that could light up the darkest of nights.
However, a flutter of insecurity washes over me, as the two bimbos in sprayed-on dresses wrap themselves around him and practically dry-hump him in front of everyone.
He’s the kind of man who is used to attention, especially from women. No doubt, he’s always the center of gravity in any room he enters. And here I am, drawn into his orbit, fighting the urge to step closer, to become another one of the eager hopefuls vying for a moment of his time.
The thought stings—a reminder of the vast gulf between us. He’s a man with options, with the world at his feet.
And what am I?
A fugitive, carrying secrets and burdens that weigh heavily on my soul.
Yet, as he laughs, throwing his head back in genuine amusement at something said, the sight sends a warm ripple through me. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself the fantasy of being the one he chooses to spend his night with, to be the reason for his laughter, and to momentarily forget the looming threats that chase me.
Reality is a splash of cold ocean water.
Women position themselves near him, their intentions clear as they toss their hair and send flirtatious glances his way. He’s gracious. His charm is effortless as he interacts, yet somehow, he’s not fully engaged. It’s as though he’s searching for something—or someone—else in the crowd.