She climbed on the bed and laid flat, her toes against the wall, bracing herself. Which would be fine until the ship dipped toward the bow.
He sat on mattress, spine to the wall, legs stretched out.
“I really do not like this,” she said nervously.
Kasra Jazani had weathered a lot. Endured terrible things. And she was afraid. It did something crazy to him. The ship pitched again.
Her feet thudded against the hull.
Then backward.
She flung out a hand to avoid falling into him. Laughed, nervously.
It bugged him that she was afraid. Made him want to protect her. He wrapped an arm around her. Drew her to himself.
Instantly, the tension seemed to leave her body. She huffed a laugh. “You must think me weak,” she muttered as she burrowed into his chest.
Man, he liked this. Her in his arm. Looking to him for safety. “Reefers aren’t the best seafaring crafts for your first sailing experience. I would’ve taken you on kayak or canoe on a still lake. Worked up from there. Maybe take you on a cruise—those are beasts built to handle pretty rugged waters. Although, there is no ship that could survive if Mother ocean decided to exert herself against it.”
“That is not comforting,” she gritted out.
He chuckled. “Fair.” Holding onto each other, they endured the swells and pitches, bracing one way, then the next. Though Kasra murmured about feeling sick, the nausea did not progress. Thankfully, the seas didn’t go full-on hull-breaker.
“When we were on the upper deck, looking out the window,” Kasra said, her cheek against this chest, “you had this look on your face …”
“That’s normally what a face does.”
She set her chin on his ribs, peering up at him. “What were you thinking?”
He knew exactly he’d been thinking but didn’t want to go there. “I don’t recall.”
She gave him a nudge. “You do. I see it in your eyes.”
Frowning at her, he scoffed. “We’ve known each other three weeks. How can you—”
“I have been with you every minute of those three weeks.” She laughed as she shifted ever closer, no propriety or gap left now. “But … I knew you even when we were at the safehouse. I could read your thoughts as if they were my own.”
Needing to put space between them, Range shifted on his side. “Okay, then. Tell me what my thoughts were.”
She rotated half on her side, half on her back, her hair cascading back against the white sheets as she peered up at him. The dull glow of the cabin lights caressed her face … then blinked off. Back on. She gasped.
“They should have a backup generator.”
Her gaze darted around, then back to his.
“Not getting out of this one—what was I thinking?”
Eyes intent, features softening, she relaxed as she stared up at him. “It is impossible to know exactly what you were thinking—”
“Cheating.” That lazy smile she gave him twisted his thoughts.
“You seemed to come to a decision. A resolve. And it …” She tracked her fingers over his beard. “It changed something in you. What decision was it?”
The reefer rose swiftly—Range thrust his hand against the low ceiling and braced, but Kasra slid down several inches, then was unceremoniously pitched back up, thrusting her into the gap he’d created.
When they collided, she gave a nervous laugh.
His hand settled on her waist to steady her. But it stirred desires. He told himself to veer off. Instead, he brushed raven hair from her face.
