She swallows. Hard. Her eyes meet mine and hold.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admits quietly.
“You don’t have to know.” I step closer, letting my body heat ghost along hers. “You just have to trust me.”
Her breath catches. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flick to my mouth, so quick she thinks I won’t catch it.
I catch everything.
“Because you scare me,” she whispers.
My pulse spikes. “How?”
“Because you’re… intense. And you look at me like?—”
“Finish it.” My voice darkens.
She shakes her head. I hold her gaze, refusing to let her hide. “Like what, sunshine?”
She hesitates. Then finally, in a small voice: “Like you want me.”
The air thickens. Dangerous. Electric. Over the line.
I lean in until my lips hover at her ear.
“I do,” I murmur.
Her whole body trembles.
She grips the bulletin board behind her like she needs something to hold onto.
“Saxon…” she says, breathless.
“Don’t worry,” I murmur. “I’ll behave.”
“You don’t look like you’re about to behave.”
“No,” I agree. “I don’t.”
We stay there in the empty hallway, breathing the same air, heat building between us like a fuse burning down.
Then her phone vibrates again.
She jumps. “Probably another comment.”
“Probably,” I say, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “Let the town talk.”
She swallows. “And what do you think they’ll say?”
I smirk. “That you caught the captain.”
She laughs—shaky, disbelieving, too soft. “You are impossible.”
“Maybe.”
