That thought made his chest ache and a growl rise up his throat.
Just fucking stop! It’s ridiculous… Let it go, already.
He slammed the door and walked to the massive control panel for the entire boat and turned the temp up higher.The weather had given the boat a chill, and standing there tormenting himself hadn’t helped. Dash had been shivering on and off all night, but Emerson had been too impatient to get the man into bed to warm the place up.
The quiet whirring of the forced-air electric heat kicked on. The system was old as hell and didn’t work all that great—but that had never bothered him much. Emerson ran warm most of the time. With the way Dash had been shaking, he knew the guy likely didn’t suffer the same problem. He was an asshole for not turning it on sooner, but he’d assumed his body heat and their fucking might warm him plenty.
When he closed the box, Emerson turned and found Dash watching him from the other end of the salon. He sized him up, fighting a smile at seeing Dash in his clothes. Sure, the clothes were clean, but well-worn. Something of his scent still lingered in the fibers, and that lay next to Dash’s skin.
He’d almost hated wiping away the seed that had slipped from Dash’s hole.
He’d marked his mate, and he wanted the world to know.
It couldn’t know anything, though.
They’d never be able to share their connection.
Another low growl rose in his throat.
Dash shivered again.
“I just turned on the heat. It’ll hopefully warm up soon,” Emerson said.
He rushed past Dash and collected a pair of socks and a hoodie from his bedroom. After he re-emerged, he shoved the hoodie over Dash’s head.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m not,” Dash said before his head popped out of the hole.
Emerson knew he was. He urged Dash to push his hands through the armholes before pulling the long woolen socks from his pajama pocket. “Here. Put these on.”
“I’m good,”Dash said.
“You’ve been shivering all night.”
“Not from the cold.”
Emerson froze, meeting Dash’s gaze fully. A tingle rose up his spine, and he shivered.
Dash shoved the socks back into his hand. “You look like you need these more than I do.”
“What do you want to drink?” Emerson asked, walking over to the tiny kitchen and opening the fridge and pocketing the socks once more.
“Is this your home?”
Emerson popped his head out of the fridge, a bit confused by the question. “Part of the time.” He pulled out a bottle of water. Silently, he offered it to Dash as a question since he’d not gotten an answer.
Dash walked into the kitchen and took it. He snatched the cap off and gulped half of it. He’d said he’d been thirsty and clearly hadn’t been lying. “What’s part of the time? Where else do you live?”
Emerson grinned to himself, pulling out another bottle. He took a big sip, his gaze never leaving Dash’s. “Actually, part-time’s no longer accurate, if I’m being honest.” He looked around the boat, frowning. “I’ve answered that way for so long, it’s instinctive to say it.”
“Why’s it no longer accurate?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?” Emerson asked as he took a couple of steps closer.
“It’s what I do for a living. I dig for answers. Get used to it.”
Emerson grinned, taking one more step. “Get used to it?”
