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She couldn’t afford to feel more, though. It would bring an attachment she didn’t wish to accept, an attachment that meant more than friendship with a fisherman. This fisherman, who, at this very moment, was looking at her lips and rendering her lungs breathless and mind thoughtless.

The world stopped moving, though seagulls still cried above the lofts and the waves still crashed on the shore just outside of the cellars, the sound of the thundering water slipping in through the cracks of the walls.

Trevik took a step toward her and raised his hand, hovering midway between them. She couldn’t draw a single breath as she waited with anticipation. Would he finally touch her? Caress her as she’d caressed him?

Finally, he slid his fingers across the lower half of her cheek, settling at the hollow of her ear. His touch sent new waves of warmth rushing over every inch of her, sending her mind into a frenzy. Never mind that they were friends. Never mind the repercussions. She was overcome with a strong desire—stronger than she’d ever known—to have him kiss her.

He pulled in his bottom lip for a moment, hesitating, and she knew that he was thinking the same as her. They both wished for this affection, but they both knew how their lives would change if they gave in to their desires.

Really, Morvoren should have run out of the door that moment, pulled his hand away from her face and begged his forgiveness while apologizing for the fact that she simply couldn’t kiss him.

But she couldn’t run. She wanted him too fiercely.

Instead, she took a step toward him, his fingers sliding toward the nape of her neck in reaction. She closed her eyes for just a moment, relishing in his touch.

This was going to happen, friends or not, consequences be what they may. She couldn’t hold back any longer.

She needed his kiss to be hers.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

When Miss Hollow’s eyes opened again, Trevik’s breath once more slipped from his lungs. Those ocean-green depths stared up at him with a desire he couldn’t deny—a desire that matched his own.

This woman, she truly was a siren from the sea. How else could he explain the way his heart heaved so heavily against his chest, like waves to the bulwark of the Pilferer?

It was an ache he welcomed, though, for it spoke measures to just how real this moment was. Her smooth hair in his fingertips, her body so near to his, he was just one step away from holding her, cradling her fully in his arms as he’d done only moments before.

Ever since that moment in the kitchen, he’d fought with his mind, refusing to believe just how badly he’d wished to draw closer to the woman, and yet, each day he spent in her company, he fell more and more for her siren’s song. Only, it wasn’t a song. It was her helping his mother with every task under the sun. It was her not only listening to Poppy but engaging in her conversations with similar excitement.

It was the way Miss Hollow looked at the sea during a storm—breathless, thriving, in awe. And the way she tackled the tasks before her with dedication.

It was…it was the way her golden hair fell over her brow, and the way her sea-filled eyes looked up at him with the promise of a kiss he would never forget.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t damage the friendship between them. And he couldn’t damage the trust he’d only just begun to tentatively win back from some of his crew.

He’d promised them that nothing was going on between him and Miss Hollow—that nothing would keep her in Tristwick longer than necessary. And this was a promise he had to maintain.

Besides, what would kissing her do anyway? She’d made it perfectly clear that she wanted no future with him or any other fisherman. And who could blame her after what had happened to her father with other drifters? This kiss she so desired was no doubt all she wanted—no commitment, no future. No promise of something more between them.

Slowly, with more strength than he had known he’d possessed, Trevik dropped his hand from her face and took a step back. He never should have allowed himself to get this close to her, to even touch her. He was a fool, as simple as that.

Looking away, he noticed his mother’s sewing basket Miss Hollow had placed beside the stairs. “I s’pose I ought to let ye get back to me mother with ’er sewin’ supplies,” he said, his voice more gruff than he’d intended.

He kept his gaze off of her, hoping to alleviate the embarrassment she must be feeling. He longed to explain to her his reasoning, but surely she should know already.

After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped away from him, then scurried toward the door. “Yes, she’ll be wonderin’ what’s kept me.”

Trevik cringed. Would she tell Mother what had occurred? Or rather, what had almost occurred? He couldn’t bear giving his mother false hope. He knew how much she and Poppy had grown to love Miss Hollow. If they even had the smallest inkling of a hope that he might feel something for Miss Hollow. That…that he might…

He shook his head, looking away. Entertaining such thoughts would lead to unhappiness for everyone involved.

“Will ye tell ’er I’ll be ’ome soon?” he asked.

She nodded.

“And, Miss ’Ollow?”

She paused in the doorway, turning back to face him with rosy cheeks. “Yes?”