Chapter 7 — Flash Point

"Emre, why?!" I repeated, I wanted to ask him something, but I couldn't remember it.

His proximity had obliterated everything else from my brain. 

"Sarah," his voice was hoarse.

"Emre…" His name sounded like a plea on my lips, only I didn't know if I wanted him to let me go or come closer to me. My heart was racing so fast I could hear it in my ears. I was sure he must be able to hear it too.

"You keep saying my name, baby, but I'm right here," he whispered so close I could feel his breath on my face.

I let out a shaky breath and looked up into his grey eyes, which seemed darker. They searched mine with an intensity that scorched me. 

My eyes were drawn down to his lips as if a magnetic force was pulling me toward him. My hand lifted of its own volition, and I cupped his rough jaw. Very gently, I touched his wide lower lip with my finger. Flashpoint.

No one could have said who initiated it, but the next thing we knew, his lips were on mine and I was kissing him back. Kissing him as if my life depended on it. The boat could have sunk into the ocean and we wouldn't have noticed. 

My arms had somehow gone around his neck, one of his hands was in my hair, and the other was behind me, pressing me closer. He felt so good, so indelibly male, I signed into his mouth in relief.

It felt like the first time, it felt like the last time. 

His tongue stroked mine as we rediscovered each other with nothing but the kiss. It was like coming home. 

He tasted of the pina colada he had stolen from me and something that was exclusively Emre. 

I was addicted. I was lost.

This can't be real; I must have fallen into the ocean.

He let out a groaning laugh that made me realize I'd spoken the words aloud.

His hands moved lower, molding his hard body to mine, his arms wrapped around me. I could feel his arousal pressing into me, and I moaned at the exquisite feel of him. 

I felt like I was crazy for him, and I wouldn't ever get enough. I couldn't remember why I'd left him, why we'd broken up. 

I couldn't remember my own name.

I was rudely reminded of it by a knock on the door behind us and a voice calling my name.

"Sarah, are you in here? Are you okay?" It was Melisa.

Melisa. She was behind the door. Did she know I was in here?

Did she know I was on the other side, plastered against Emre like we were one entity?

We abruptly broke apart, wild eyed and breathless. My mind was still swirling, confused, and my body was trembling, wanting what it had been denied. 

I couldn't say a word and not because Melisa was on the other side of the door but because if I tried, my mouth wouldn't cooperate.

The knock sounded again, and I looked at Emre with a desperate expression. His eyes moved all over me, lingering on my lips, now swollen by our explosive kiss.

He quickly took my hand and tugged me away from the door. For a minute, I thought he was going to open the door and let all hell break loose, but he quickly ushered me into the en suite washroom and pulled the door closed.

What have I done? I thought. My weak legs couldn't hold me up any longer, and I slid down to the tiled floor.

I leaned my head against the door, hearing the conversation behind the door.

Emre pretended I wasn't here, that I must be in one of the other restrooms. I prayed she would take him at his word and not check each and every restroom. What would I say? That I'd gotten lost? That I was in the crew cabins?

I let out a dry laugh.

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror, mortified at my reflection. My lips were red and swollen, my eyes wild and shining, my hair disheveled. I looked exactly what I was, a stupid girl who'd just made out with her ex in his room on his ship.

I leaned my head on the cold glass of the mirror, my mind still on the kiss.

Oh Lord, the guy could kiss…

I shook my head and opened the faucet, splashing my face with cold water to help me focus.

I tried to settle my hair, but it was useless; Emre's hands had messed them up well and good.

Emre knocked on the door, "All clear, you can come out now." He said in a low voice.

I composed myself as much as I could and walked out to face my personal demon.