His hands and lips were everywhere and suddenly so was he; all five of her senses buzzed in reaction to the intimate radiance of his warmth, his beauty, his love. He was all she could focus on and it seemed that the world around them ceased to exist as Jack overtook her mind, body, and soul for the umpteenth time that night. It was all so new and overwhelming, but she knew with unabridged certainty that this is what she wanted for the rest of her life. As his lips grazed against her neck, she felt her grip on reality begin to slip, and she was certain that the world would cease turning if he stopped his ministrations: her new life-source was his kisses, his touch, his whispers of love – she had never felt such desire, had never felt so alive – and she was sure the thump, thump, thump of her heartbeat raced to its very own Jack, Jack, Jack.

"Jack..." she whispered deliciously, letting it roll over her tongue like sugar, loving the sound and the taste of it.

"Say it again," he groaned, slipping off her dress and hitching up her knees to unravel her stockings.

She felt a stab of pleasure at the erotic way he'd spoken and the hazy desire coating his eyes. Suddenly she wanted more. "Make me."

"Is that a challenge?" he raised his eyebrows playfully, a mischievous grin starting to form. "'Cos you know I can..."

Rose bit her lip, blushing profusely as she remembered the Renault mere hours ago: her passionate sighs of pleasure as she'd cried out his name over and over. Her eyes travelled down his body as she watched him slide his shirt off, exposing his smooth golden skin. Without thinking, she sat up and eagerly reached for the buttons on his corduroy pants.

He stilled, cherishing her as he gazed into her eyes – not sure he would ever tire of seeing such desperate desire in them – and for him! – how had he gotten so lucky? Immediately he was overcome with the need to satisfy her, to focus on her pleasure alone, to make her feel as beautiful as she was. He lifted her delicate hands away from him and laid her back down.

"Not this time, Rose."

She furrowed her brows in confusion, lacing their fingers tenderly, a silent question lingering in her eyes. He simply smiled, kissing her slowly, working his way down her neck, tearing his hands away from hers to trace the curves of her frame as his lips travelled lower, and lower still. What was he doing? Is he supposed to be doing that? The muscles in her abdomen twitched as he kissed over her navel, and she felt her whole body tense up as he reached the hem of her silk bloomers.

"Do you trust me?" he looked up at her.

The adoration in his eyes immediately relaxed her, and she smiled at him lovingly. "I trust you."

She watched curiously as he delicately slid off the only remaining garment she was wearing, expecting to see him make his way back up to her lips. Grinning knowingly and still positioned between her legs, he lowered his mouth to her; his eyes – glazed over with insatiable love and desire – glued to hers to gauge her reaction. Rose moaned involuntarily, never having imagined that people did such things. She threw her head back in ecstasy, surrendering under his mouth as he took her back to the stars.

"Jack..."

Cal Hockley awoke to three abrupt knocks on his stateroom door. He groaned, a sharp pang – the likely result of one too many brandies – shot through the left side of his head. After a moment, Lovejoy walked into the room and immediately began his duties, pulling out clothing from the wardrobe.

"Morning, sir. Breakfast?"

He grumbled in response.

...

Cal walked to the first-class Café Parisien, deciding against joining the majority of his peers in the Dining Saloon. He didn't want to confront any questions about Rose's absence - something he knew people had already began to question at dinner the previous evening. He had felt their eyes on him as he'd glared at his pocket-watch and routinely excused himself to consult with Lovejoy every hour.

He reached the café, being seated immediately. The morning sunshine warmed his face as he sipped his coffee. He was relieved that Ruth had decided to take breakfast on their private promenade; he'd spent more time with his fiancé's mother on this voyage than had ever seemed necessary, and he was beginning to loathe the mere sight of her.

He ate alone, grateful that none of his peers had chosen the same location. With nothing but the quiet hum of other's conversations for background noise, he reached for the morning newspaper and began to read quietly.

"Oh, good gracious!"

His head twinged at the loud outburst from the table behind. He sighed indignantly. Women.

"Shh, shh, my dear."

"-I've a good mind to complain, Edith."

"Good heavens! To overhear such a thing!"

"You're sure it was... that?"

Cal couldn't help but listen now, intrigued at the prospect of overhearing a scandal. He leant back in his wicker chair discreetly and tilted his head closer toward the small group of women gossiping behind him.

"I tell you, that's what I heard. Absolutely outrageous! Newlyweds no doubt."

"But Eloise, I thought the stateroom next to yours was empty? Weren't you going to purchase it for your lady's maid?"

"It was. That's what's so bewildering. Nobody occupied that room until this young couple last night."

Cal stilled. No... Surely not.

"But nobody's boarded since Cherbourg! How would a young couple get keys to an empty cabin?"

"Quite the quandary, isn't it? Somebody on this ship knows something."

"Eloise are you quite sure that's what you heard? It wasn't the clanging of machinery or something?"

"Frances, I could hear her screeching his name. For hours. I'd rather not think about it, I feel quite ill."

"But surely nobody in first-class would act so–"

"There are some lower-class rooms on E-Deck I believe... Along with some of the new money." Another woman disdainfully added. "Like that vulgar Brown woman."

"What was the name you heard, Eloise?"

The group giggled as she groaned loudly, fanning herself. Cal's heart raced.

"Jack."

His eyes widened as he shot up from the table, the crockery and china teacup clinking loudly. The women's uproarious laugher stopped.

"Mind your step, Sir." A steward steadied him.

Cal stormed out of the cafe furiously. When he reached the grand staircase, he'd managed to somehow compose himself. Jack was a common name, after all; he had three servants employed at his estate with that name alone. He made a note to fire them immediately upon his return - he was not sure he'd ever be able to stomach the sound of that wretched name again.

He saw Lovejoy approaching out of the corner of his eye, and smirked.

He wouldn't jump to conclusions–

E-Deck, the woman had said.

–But it wouldn't hurt just to check.