Jannah's POV
"One room," Ethan repeats.
I'm not sure if I should be excited, scared, or... turned on. I'm not going to deny the undeniable—there's a very real, very intense attraction I have for him, and it's tearing me in two.
I've never been one to hook up with a guy I barely know—that's Kait's specialty. Me? I'm a prude. Not by choice, but by a combination of genetics and upbringing. I have incredible self-control. But with this Adonis around, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. Lord, help me.
I send a silent prayer to the universe, hoping I won't embarrass myself—something I seem to be getting remarkably good at lately.
I'm not exactly sleepy, but it's ten at night, and my body is crying for rest.
I follow Ethan through the brightly lit hallways of the yacht. My fingers brush along the polished wood as I admire the interior. It's nothing like I imagined. It's different from what you see on TV.
As the hallway narrows, the wooden walls give way to mirrored panels. The floors are a light brown hardwood, and the ceiling, with its LED strip lighting, glows softly, giving the space a cozy elegance despite the low height.
"Here we are," Ethan says, stopping in front of a door. He punches in a code, and the door unlocks.
This must be a seriously luxurious yacht because his room is even more impressive than my hotel suite. It's a spacious en-suite with a king-size bed in the center, a wall-mounted TV, and a small walk-in closet.
"So, are you friends with the birthday girl?" I ask for the sake of forming a conversation.
"Sort of," he replies, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. "Bathroom's to the left. If you want to change, I can lend you some clothes."
He doesn't expatiate on what he means by sort of and I don't press either afterall we barely know each other.
The first few buttons come undone, and my gaze zeroes in on his chest—broad, firm, and perfectly defined. His muscles shift subtly as he moves, and I can't help but imagine running my fingers along his skin.
"I'd like that. Thanks," I manage to say, tearing my eyes away from him. No way am I sleeping in this dress.
He hands me a T-shirt big enough to pass for a dress and a pair of baggy sweatpants that I have to fold at the waist so they don't slip off. Now I look a regular at thrift stores. I snort aloud when I stare at my reflection. Definitely salvation army.
When I return to the bedroom relief washes over me– he's no longer shirtless. He's pulled on a lightweight gray T-shirt that clings to every defined line of his chest, paired with black sweatpants.
"Who even watches regular TV when we have Netflix?" I yawn, pulling the comforter up to my chin.
"Me," he replies matter-of-factly.
"That explains why you're so antique. Why waste time flipping channels when you can subscribe to streaming apps?" I say, leaning back against the headboard.
"You sound like an ad."
"Well, did I convince you to join the modern world?" I huff.
To prove a point, he switches the channel to a boxing match.
"Nope," he says with a shrug.
I was tired earlier, but now I can't sleep. How can I, when I'm sharing a room with a guy I've fantasized about more than a few times? It's a fifty-fifty chance I'll get any rest.
"Do you watch wrestling?" he asks.
I snort. "Only if sweaty guys throwing each other around is your idea of entertainment."
"Works for me, since listening to your rant isn't exactly prime-time entertainment," he fires back, moving to the other side of the bed.
The mattress dips under his weight, and I feel the warmth of his body before he's even fully settled. His movements are slow and deliberate.
Even though my eyes are on the TV, my focus is anywhere but. His scent—clean, masculine, and unmistakably him—lingers in the air. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
"Why do you even like this stuff? It's not like they have any real moves. It's all just violence and testosterone," I mutter.
I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them tightly. I need a distraction. My body is betraying me, heat spreading through my thighs, pooling low in my core. The ache is subtle but insistent, making every nerve in my body feel hyper aware.
The air between us feels charged, heavy with an energy I don't know how to navigate.
I curl my toes under the comforter and bite my lip to suppress a soft moan. My breathing is shallow, uneven. Every little shift he makes only amplifies the tension.
I don't know what it is about him, but he draws me in, makes me lose the self-control I pride myself on.
" About your black belt–I wonder if you can actually kick my ass." His gaze flickers to me, a naughty grin on his face.
" With pleasure" I bow my head. Ethan's eyes stay on me for a while, like he's weighing the pros and cons, before he finally nods.
" Okay, Karate Kid, why don't we start already?"Ethan rubs his palms excitedly ,then stretches his right hand towards me. Does this grown ass-man really want to pick a fight with me?
I mean, yeah , I have a black belt in taekwondo, but I earned that in high school. My skills might be a little rusty. And this guy? He looks like he could send me flying with one kick.
I stare at his hand for a second, skeptically– you know what? Fuck that. I grab it.
"I wouldn't want you too break a few joints, so quick question–are you good at this?" I ask proudly, even though I have a feeling I should be the one scared.
" I'll let you be the judge of that," Ethan's calm response make me roll my eyes. Oh well.
" Kyongne!" I shout .We bow. The match is officially on.
For about two minutes, we circle each other, our feet dancing across the wooden floor, slow and deliberate. Our eyes stay locked, filled with determination.
I make the first move , lunging forward ,ready to tackle him and prove I know what I'm doing . But his gaze never wavers–he doesn't move an inch.
I keep circling, watching , waiting for a perfect moment to strike .Then out of nowhere he moves– fast . In one stride, he grabs both my arms, holding them so tight tight that I'm tempted to call it quits.
I wince under his grip, but stop myself immediately.
" Is this how you planned on tackling Harry,huh?" Ethan's breath is light and feathery against my neck. His closeness makes it difficult to think past the sudden heat pooling between my legs.
I ignore his question. But before I can react, he throws me onto the bed in one swift motion. My head lands barely an inch away from the bed frame. My eyes widen in shock , my heart pounding like I just finished an early morning jog.
" What the hell, what if I banged my head?" I hiss, my lips pulled into a pout.
Ethan steeps forward , an amused smirk on his lips , hands placed on his narrow hips as he looks down at me.
" You didn't," he says flatly.
I stick out my middle finger. He ignores me, his attention momentarily shifting off to the screen . That's my chance. I kick his knees hard.
It's supposed to be payback but Ethan stumbles forward –landing almost on top of me, the right side of his face hoovers just inches above mine... I feel my face burn red.
Everything pauses.
Everything disappears into the back of my mind.
His long sandy lashes flicker over mine, his lips almost brushing against my own.
" Do you remember when you asked me to kiss you? "
I can practically taste his breath – chocolate vodka and something fruity mixed in it.The second I hear his question I want the bed to split in two and swallow me whole.
I squeeze my eyes shut, too embarrassed to say respond. I don't even want to look at him to see if he's teasing or he's serious.
The answer comes soon enough when his lips claim mine–slow but demanding, like he's savoring a rare delicacy. His fingers thread through my hair, his hands pressing gently against the back of my neck , his free hand sliding to my waist.
I remain still, too stunned to react, my body torn between pleasure and surprise.Every nerve in my body screams at me to move, to do something—but I can't. This isn't just a kiss. This is me crossing a line I swore I wouldn't.
His kiss is even better than I ever imagined. His hands graze my bare waist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, I open my eyes.
His eyes are shut . But then, as if sensing my stare, they open–deep brown and filled with raw desire.
" I was dying to kiss you, but–"
I cut him off. " Shut up already,"
I wrap my hands around his neck and kiss him back–the way I've always dreamed of. A kiss with a promise.