“I should have been more careful. Should have warned you about the coupling, should have—”
“Rynn.” The way he’s looking at me makes my breath catch. “It was an accident.”
“Was it?” His thumb strokes over my pulse, and I know he can feel how fast my heart is beating. “Because I’ve been thinking about touching you for hours, and maybe some part of me wanted an excuse to—”
He stops abruptly, as if realizing what he was about to say, but the damage is done. The admission hangs between us like a live wire, charging the air with possibility.
“An excuse to what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, he just stares at me, something fierce and hungry flickering in his golden eyes. Then he’s reaching upwith his free hand to cup my face, thumb stroking along my cheekbone with devastating gentleness.
“To do this,” he says, and leans down to press his forehead against mine.
We’re not quite kissing, but we’re close enough that I can feel his breath against my lips, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his eyes, close enough to smell that intoxicating scent of spice and male heat that has been driving me insane all day.
“This is a terrible idea,” I whisper.
“The worst,” he agrees, but he doesn’t pull away.
“We’re stuck together.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still keeping secrets about who you really are.”
“I am.”
“And I swore I’d never get involved with another passenger after what happened with that Nexari trader.”
“What happened with the Nexari trader?” His voice is carefully neutral, but there’s something sharp underneath that sounds almost like jealousy.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “That’s the point. I was smart enough to keep it professional.”
“And now?”
I study his face, taking in the perfect symmetry of his features, the way his eyes seem to glow in the dim light, the pulse beating rapidly at the base of his throat.
“Now I’m starting to think being smart is overrated.”
Something flickers across his expression—triumph, maybe, or relief. “Polly...”
“CAPTAIN,” Zip’s voice suddenly booms through the comm system, making us both jump apart, “I HATE TO INTERRUPT WHAT APPEARS TO BE A FASCINATING MEDICAL CONSULTATION, BUT ALL CRITICAL REPAIRS ARE NOW COMPLETE AND IT’S PROBABLY TIME FOR BOTH OFYOU TO EAT SOMETHING BEFORE YOU COLLAPSE FROM EXHAUSTION.”
The spell breaks, but the tension doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it crystallizes into something sharper, more dangerous. A promise of confrontations to come and boundaries that will definitely be tested.
“The galley,” I say, my voice not quite steady.
“The galley,” he agrees, but his eyes never leave mine.
As we carefully extract ourselves from the maintenance space, I can’t help but notice the way he moves—like a predator who’s finally caught sight of his prey. The way he keeps stealing glances at me, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail.
This is definitely going to be a very long time trapped together.
The question is whether we’ll both survive them with our sanity—and our professional boundaries—intact.
Somehow, I really doubt it.
4
