Fake dating the captain

Chapter7

~Liv~

I didn’t feel the phone leave my hand.

I just heard the splash, far below the railing, like a coin dropped in a wishing well that never granted anything.

Ava’s ultrasound picture disappeared into black water.

Weeks gone . Grainy little bean. Caleb tagged in the comments with a string of heart emojis and “Can’t wait to marry my girls.”

The wedding was moved up. Of course it was. Because everything in Ava’s life accelerates while mine stalls out in the breakdown lane.

I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. Then I threw up over the side of the pier, mostly alcohol and self-loathing.

After that it was just legs carrying me from bar to bar, shots sliding down like punishment, music too loud to think. Someone kept buying me drinks because I was the sad girl crying. I let them. I let everyone. I wanted to disappear inside the noise.

At some point the world tilted sideways and I was back on the pier, shoes gone, dress soaked from falling in the shallows. The tide was out, exposing all the ugly rocks and broken shells.

I sat on the edge, legs dangling, and screamed at the dark until my voice shredded.

That’s when the headlights cut across the boards.

Rowan.

Of course someone called him. We apparently were a couple now.

Probably the bartender who saw me crying into my drink and asked if I had a boyfriend. I’d laughed in his face and said, “Not anymore.”

He didn’t say a word at first. Just walked up, boots heavy, jacket half-zipped, hair a mess like he’d been asleep. The second he got close I started shaking so hard my teeth chattered.

He crouched, hands on my shoulders, eyes scanning me like he was looking for broken bones. “Liv.”

I launched myself at him. Not graceful. More like a wrecking ball of snot and saltwater. He caught me anyway, arms locking around my back, and I buried my face in his neck and screamed again. All of it. Ava. The baby. The wedding. The letter I made him burn. The fact that I’m always the wrong sister. The fact that I ruin everything.

He let me. Just held on while the screams turned into sobs that hurt my throat, while I beat my fists against his chest like it would change anything. His shirt got soaked. His skin got cold. He didn’t move.

When I ran out of air, I kissed him.

Desperate, sloppy. I expected him to pull away. He didn’t. Not at first. His mouth opened under mine and for one f*****g , perfect second he kissed me back like he was starving.

Then his hands clamped on my wrists and he broke it. “Liv, stop.”

“No.” I chased his mouth. “Please. I need…I need to feel something that isn’t this.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m aware.” I yanked my wrists free and grabbed his face. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the night you carried me out of that stupid party with my shoe stuck in the toilet. Please, Rowan.”

His breathing was ragged. I could feel how hard he was when I climbed into his lap, straddling him right there on the cold pier, dress riding up, skin prickling. He groaned my name like it hurt.

“Liv..” he said in that hoarse sexy voice that turned me on. “We can’t…”

“We can.” I kissed his jaw, his throat, ground down on him just to hear that broken sound again. “We’re not anything, remember? You said stay clear of your path. So let’s just be nothing together for five minutes.”

His hands were on my hips, gripping so tight I’d have bruises tomorrow. He was shaking too. “This isn’t..”

I shut him up with my tongue. He kissed me back this time, filthy and deep, teeth clacking, hands sliding under my wet dress to palm my ass. I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it like it was the last sound he’d ever get to hear.

We didn’t make it off the pier.

He pushed me down onto his jacket, spread out over the rough wood like some half-assed blanket. The sky was starting to lighten at the edges, ugly gray, but his eyes were darker than ever when he shoved my dress up to my waist.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against my thigh, mouth hot, breath hotter. “Say it and I will.”

I couldn’t even form words. Just arched up, fingers twisting in his hair, begging with my whole body.

He gave me his mouth until I was sobbing again, but for once it was the good. Until my legs shook and I came so hard I saw stars over the water, his tongue licked it so hard I don't think I've ever seen a better p***y eater. Then he crawled up, kissing me so I could taste myself, and I fumbled with his belt like a teenager.

He let me get his jeans open. Let me wrap my hand around him and feel how much he wanted this too. He was leaking, burning hot against my palm, and the noise he made when I stroked him once, Jesus.

I guided him between my legs. No condom. I didn't care. Just needed him inside me, needed proof I could still be wanted.

He braced over me, forehead against mine, voice wrecked. “Liv…”

“Please.”

He pushed in just barely, the head stretching me, and I gasped at how perfect it felt. How right. How much I’d missed this.

His whole body locked up. “s**t….”

I tilted my hips, trying to take more, and that’s when the world tilted the wrong way.

The vodka, the crying, the cold, the o****m everything crashed over me like a wave. My eyes rolled back. Limbs suddenly made of lead.

“Rowan,” I mumbled, but it came out slurred.

He froze. “Liv?”

I tried to hold on to him, but my arms wouldn’t work. The sky spun. His face blurred.

“Liv…shit—...

I think he pulled out. I think he cursed a lot, I think he was trying to send it in me. I think he gathered me up, jacket and all.

Last thing I felt was his hand stroking my wet hair, while asking for permission to fully send it in, “Liv can I…..”

Then nothing.

I think I blacked out mid s*x? Or pre s*x?