Meghan eased back to better see him.
She framed his clean-shaven face between her palms.
Though smooth, there was a slight coarseness that made his skin rougher, more rugged than her own.
“Why—?”
The storm from before was reflected in his blue eyes.
“It helps as a disguise.”
Because he had taken her…
She could not regret it.
Shamefully, she never had.
Meghan traced his mouth again.
“They are firm, but somehow like velvet.”
“You are like velvet,” he said thickly.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid you must find your own descriptor. I have already used velvet.”
His lips quirked, and this twist of his glorious mouth was slightly harder and harsher.
August stroked the small of her back, and after the morning and afternoon she had spent aboard the ship, it felt so very wonderful.
“That feels very good, you know.” She made another confession.
“I know.”
Meghan rested her cheek upon his chest and inhaled.
“You smell like salt and tobacco. I did not know you smoke.”
So many mysteries. So many secrets.
“It is forbidden on my ship,” he explained hoarsely. “And on shore, it provides a release from stress.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I stink.”
“I don’t care.”
His heart thundered against her ear.
She believed him. His heart told her so.
Meghan closed her eyes and absorbed his solid life force.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
She smoothed along his ribcage.
Meghan made that powerful organ race faster.
She breathed in slowly.
