I dimly register Craig announcing from the bridge that he's setting the autopilot and retiring to the crew quarters, but I'm too lost in sensation to care.
"This changes nothing," I gasp when we break apart for air.
"Absolutely nothing," Callum agrees, trailing kisses down my neck."Purely physical.Getting it out of our system."
"Exactly," I murmur, already working on his tie."One time.Then back to normal."
"One time," he echoes, lifting me effortlessly."Starting now."
As he carries me below deck to his private cabin, I have the fleeting thought that I am falling for the wrong brother again.
Except this time, it doesn't feel wrong at all.
16
WHAT WON'T KILT YOU...
CALLUM
The cabin of the Fidelity sits forty feet below the deck, far removed from Seattle's summer night and the lingering ghost of Richard's smug face.
Down here, the only sounds are the gentle hum of the engines, the soft rush of water against the hull, and Karina's breath catching as I carry her across the threshold like some kind of tartan-loving caveman.
This is a terrible idea.
Possibly the worst I've had since agreeing to let my grandmother reorganize my kitchen "feng shui" last Christmas.
And yet, with Karina's arms looped around my neck, her weight perfectly balanced against my chest, I can't seem to remember why stopping would be the sensible option.
"You can put me down now," she murmurs against my neck."Unless this is some Scottish tradition I'm unaware of."
"Tradition dictates I carry you over the threshold, then recite the seven ancient clan blessings before removing a single item of clothing."
She pulls back to study my face."Seriously?"
"No," I admit, lowering her carefully to her feet."But your expression was worth it."
The cabin surrounds us in warm mahogany and subtle luxury—a king-sized bed with crisp navy linens, ambient lighting that casts a golden glow over everything, and panoramic windows that frame Seattle's retreating skyline.
Karina spins slowly, taking it all in."This is...not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know.Dead fish on the walls?Antlers?A shrine to Excel spreadsheets?"
I raise an eyebrow."You think I'd mount Excel spreadsheets on my wall?"
"Color-coded and laminated, obviously."
"I prefer PowerPoint.More visual impact."
She laughs, the sound relaxing something in my chest I hadn't realized was tight.Then she notices the small wooden display case mounted discreetly on the far wall.
"Are those...fencing medals?"
"Perhaps."
She crosses to examine them."Silver in the 2009 Scottish Championships?Callum Abernathy, you've been holding out on me."
