In Love With Him

Chapter 70

Kennedy POV

The morning started earlier, it was still fairly dark outside when Dad was loading the SUV, barking last-minute instructions about passports and luggage tags while Helen tried to organize Max, who was already complaining about the car ride.

Kyle, Morgan, and most of the bags squeezed into Dad’s big SUV, Max tucked between them with his headphones and a tablet already blaring a show.

Meanwhile, I climbed into the front seat of Dominic’s Camaro, while Marty and Finn claimed the backseat like it was their throne.

Dominic slid behind the wheel, all quiet confidence and sleepy eyes. His hoodie hung low over his head, stubble shadowing his jawline. He looked tired — but still so good it made my heart thud just a little harder.

The drive started quiet. I sipped iced coffee while Marty and Finn chatted a mile a minute in the back. They were already buzzing with excitement, talking about the cruise ship and all the “hot tropical boys with golden tans and thick thighs.”

“I’m telling you,” Marty leaned forward between the seats, eyes locked on mine, “as soon as we step off that boat, we are going full-on Mission: Virgin Impossible. Operation: Kennedy Gets Laid. It’s happening. It’s non-negotiable.”

I choked mid-sip, coughing. “Jesus Christ, Marty!”

Dominic’s hand gripped the steering wheel tighter. I didn’t miss how his knuckles went white.

Marty ignored me. “No, I’m serious. You’re eighteen. You’ve had one kiss — from a guy who turned out to be a dickbag. That’s tragic. But if you lose it on the island and it sucks? Who cares! You’ll never see him again. Clean break. No school gossip. Foolproof.”

Finn chimed in with dramatic flair, “And now you don’t have to worry about being called a prude or a slut. It’s the Bahamas, baby! Everyone’s a little slutty there.”

I felt my cheeks burn, not from embarrassment — okay, maybe a little — but from something else too.

Dominic hadn’t said a word. But I could feel him. The tension in the way his jaw ticked. The heat rolling off him in the close confines of the car. He glanced at me, his gaze lingering on my bare thigh where my shorts had ridden up. I tried to ignore how my skin tingled under that look.

“Guys…” I started hesitantly, voice softer, “It’s just… not how I imagined it. I want my first time to mean something. I want to feel… safe. Trust the guy. You know?”

And then it happened.

Dominic’s eyes flicked to mine for just a second — but it said everything. The silence between us was loud. Too loud.

Marty sighed dramatically in the back, flopping against the seat like I just told her Christmas was canceled. “Ugh, I forgot you're a romantic.”

Then she leaned forward again, this time narrowing her eyes at Dominic. “Dominic. What do you think?”

The car got really quiet.

Dominic didn’t answer right away. His grip on the wheel stayed tight, his jaw locked. He didn’t look at me, but I saw the muscle in his cheek twitch.

Then finally, in that low, deep voice that always did weird things to my stomach, he said, “I think… Kennedy should do what makes her feel comfortable. She’ll know when it’s the right time. And with who.”

With who.

I tried not to overthink it, but the way he said it… it lingered in the air between us like smoke.

Dominic didn’t glance my way again after that. But I could feel something had shifted. The tension in the car was different now. Closer. Warmer.

And when my eyes drifted toward his hands again — strong, veiny, steady on the steering wheel — all I could think about was how they’d felt wrapped around mine in his bed that night. How he’d looked at me like I was his only lifeline.

And suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about random island boys anymore.

I was thinking about him.

The way his voice dropped when he was tired. The way he always opened the passenger door for me like it wasn’t a big deal. The way his fingers almost touched the inside of my thigh on the couch that night and how my body had screamed for him to keep going.

I looked out the window to calm my face. I couldn’t afford to let him see what I was feeling.

Because if he did… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself anymore.

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Dominic POV

I kept my eyes locked on the road, but it took everything in me not to whip the car around and tell Marty to shut the hell up.

Her voice echoed in my head — “Mission: Virgin Impossible. Operation: Kennedy Gets Laid.”

Like it was some joke. Like Kennedy was a mission to complete, not a person… not my person.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, knuckles going pale. I could hear the leather creak beneath my fingers.

I didn’t say anything when Kennedy choked on her drink. I didn’t say anything when Finn joined in like this was some kind of f*****g group project. And I especially didn’t say anything when Marty, in all her dramatic glory, demanded my opinion.

Because the truth?

I didn’t trust what would come out of my mouth.

I didn’t want Kennedy hooking up with some random island guy. Some stranger getting to touch her skin. Some guy who didn’t know how shy she got when she was nervous, or how her voice got soft when she was telling the truth. Some guy who didn’t deserve to kiss her, or hear the little breathy sounds she made when she laughed too hard.

God — the thought of someone else making her moan…

Making her say someone else’s name…

It made my jaw clench so hard I thought I might crack a damn molar.

I wanted it to be me. I wanted to be the one she trusted. The one she came to. The one who got to know every inch of her body, slowly, reverently — like she deserved.

But I couldn’t.

I wasn’t allowed to want her like that. Not when she was the one person in this world I shouldn’t want.

Not when she was about to be my official step-sister.

That word made me sick. Not because of what it meant — legally, technically — but because it felt like it erased everything real I was starting to feel.

I looked at her from the corner of my eye. She was staring out the window, her hand gripping the edge of her drink like she was trying to ground herself. I saw the way her thigh shifted — soft, bare, inches away from my hand. And I remembered how she felt that night in my bed. Warm. Willing. Trusting.

You’ll know when it’s the right time. And who.

That’s what I told her. Because it was the only way I could say what I meant without exposing everything.

I wanted her to know. But I was too much of a coward to say it out loud.

And now? Now she was headed to an island filled with strangers and sun-kissed distractions. And all I could do was sit in this car, drive us forward, and hope to God she didn’t pick someone else to give herself to.

Because if she did…

I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.

The drive to Fort Lauderdale was filled with noise—Finn and Marty talking a mile a minute in the backseat, Kennedy occasionally laughing, the music humming under their voices. But I didn’t hear much of it. My mind was somewhere else… stuck between the pressure building in my chest and the ache behind my eyes that never seemed to fade when she was this close.

We finally pulled into the port terminal, the Florida sun already hot, bouncing off the rows of white cruise ships lined up like massive floating cities. Our ship, the Paradise Sea, towered over everything. Glass balconies shimmered in the light, and the faint sound of Caribbean music drifted from the dock speakers.

Kennedy hopped out of the car first, stretching and shading her eyes, her curls bouncing in the breeze. I couldn’t help but stare. God, she looked good in the sunlight—short black shorts, white tank top, sunglasses perched on her head. She looked like summer.

We unloaded the luggage quickly and headed to the boarding line. Paul and my mom were already arguing about sunscreen and paperwork. Max was spinning in circles like a human top. Morgan and Kyle had their hands full with all the bags. But I kept looking for Kennedy in the crowd like I’d lost sight of something I wasn’t ready to let go of.

Once onboard, it was impossible not to be impressed. The ship had everything—restaurants, two pools, bars, a casino, even a freaking mini golf course on the top deck. There was a sun deck that wrapped the entire top level, lined with padded loungers and cabanas. Music played from hidden speakers, and the whole place smelled like sea air and tropical sunscreen.

We wouldn’t be on the boat for long—just enough time to get across to the island, but it was enough for me to feel the distance grow between us already.

I escaped to the top deck to breathe. The sea stretched out like an endless mirror, blue and open, and the ship rumbled softly beneath my feet as we slowly pulled away from the coast.

That’s when I saw her.

She was standing alone near the railing, her hands resting lightly on the metal bar, her curls dancing in the wind like they had a life of their own. The sun hit her at just the right angle—casting a golden glow across her pale porcelain skin. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, her shoulders relaxed, and for a second, I swear she looked like something out of a dream.

Her bright blue eyes—God, those eyes—were fixed on the horizon, reflecting the sky so perfectly I didn’t know where she ended and the ocean began.

I couldn’t move.

I knew I should. I knew I should turn away, give her space, remember she’s not mine. But something about the way she stood there, peaceful and thoughtful, completely unaware of how f*****g breathtaking she was, rooted me to the spot.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending.

Pretending I didn’t want her in every way. Pretending I didn’t feel it every time our hands touched or she looked at me with those eyes like she was searching for something.

I didn’t just want her. I needed her.

But I was her stepbrother now. And the last thing I deserved… was her.

Still, as I watched her in the soft wind, her hair lifting with the salt air, the ship carving through the sea toward some perfect island paradise—we both stood there, quiet and alone—unspoken feelings stretching across the distance like a tide I couldn’t stop.

And maybe, just maybe…

She felt it too.