Norrington's Darling

Confirmation

POV: Zuri Sparrow

I jumped when the doors of the house slammed open, banging against the walls. My head snapped up and I only relaxed when I realized it was just James.

"By God, James, you gave me a heart attack—"

He never let me finished my sentence. He scooped me up into a hug. "We did it!"

"What?" I asked, shocked.

"We did it! Beckett gave us a ship!"

"Which ship?!"

"Any ship of our choosing!"

I squealed and James lifted me into the air, twirling me around him. I grinned at him, opening my mouth to congratulate him on persuading Beckett when he cut me off with his lips. The next thing I knew, he had me in his arms with my back bent in an elegant curve, his lips softly cushioning mine, his tongue dancing with mine.

When he finally pulled away, I brushed at a strand of brown hair that had fallen from his wig and into his eyes. "Someone's feeling romantic today," I giggled. "Not that I'm complaining."

James grinned at me. "I knew you wouldn't." He kissed me again and my body went weak, my muscles going limp and my soul relaxing. My heart beat steadily in time with his, which I felt even though the layers of fabric we both wore. His hand found its place at the small of my back and I moved my hand to the back of his neck while the other gripped his arm. The sensual kiss sent shivers of warmth through my body. I recognized them and my heart changed to ice.

"James," I breathed against his mouth. "James, please. Before we do something stupid." I detached my mouth from his and backed up, trying desperately to ignore the want racing through my body.

"But Zuri, we've waited so long—"

"James."

He shut his mouth. "I— I know." He sighed. "You don't want to and after everything that happened with Beckett—" Suddenly, he stopped. "Speaking of Beckett..."

My head shot up, eager to get away from the awkward situation. "Yes?"

"He—" James cleared his throat. "He mentioned your past with him, asked if you'd told me about it." James hesitated. "Uh, he, um, also mentioned that...your story might have been...one-sided."

Rage bubbled in my stomach. "And do you believe him?" It came out harsher than I intended and James flinched.

"No, of course not," he said too fast.

"It's alright if you do," I said quietly. "I..." I shook my head. "He's your boss and...he's probably right, at least partially." I looked up. "What did he say about me?"

James still looked nervous, but he said, "Beckett said he was sure you loved him like he loved you. And that you were suddenly...against him."

"I never denied that I led him on, if unintentionally."

"I'm not accusing you of denying it," James said quickly. He moved closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. His hands caressed the top of my head, running through my hair. He held me closer than I thought possible, every inch of me pressed against him, with no space for air between us. "I promise."

I kissed his cheek. "I know." The closeness of his body made me nervous, knowing what he wanted that I would not give him, but I forced myself not to shy away. I had known he'd wanted it before, but I have never protested against his warmth and hugs and closeness before. Giving in to the fear would only make it worse—besides, I trusted James. And I knew he would never force himself on me, unlike what Beckett had done to me when we were younger.

The thought brought unbidden touches across my body—his touch, closer to my chest than I wanted, his hands on my hips, his lips caressing me, his hands on places I would never let anyone but my husband—who I hoped would be James—touch.

A sob escaped me and my body shook.

"Zuri?"

"I—I—Beckett—" I swallowed harshly, gulping down air. "I can feel his hands everywhere. Everywhere."

James squeezed me. "Oh, darling. It's alright. I'm here," he crooned. "It's just me. Don't worry, darling. I'm here. I've got you. I'll hold you until it goes away. Until he goes away."

My hands shook as I clutched him tight. "Th-th-h-h—" I couldn't even get my thanks out, my teeth were chattering so hard.

I had cried this hard only a few times before—like when Jack had died. It was the terrible kind, the kind with hiccuping and disgusting sobs and teeth gnashing. Through it all, James held me until I cried myself into a fitful sleep, from which I woke screaming several times, each time to find him still holding on to me, still awake, stroking my hair and whispering soft words I could never remember when I fell back asleep or woke up again.