Page 85 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

Then a door across from mine swung open.

Oh my!

Theron filled the frame, shirtless, hair loose, jaw clenched. His gaze cut past me down the hall, tracking the pirates until they rounded the corner. Candlelight caught the lines of him, the breadth of his shoulders, the lean muscle across his chest and stomach, the faint map of scars along his ribs that told me he’d left his guard down before.

When his eyes settled on me, that smirk appeared. My face burned.

I meant to turn back to my chamber, but I made the mistake of looking at his chest again. The questions I’d pushed down all night climbed back up—the humming, the slip he’d made and covered, what he knew about the stones and the gods.

He glanced down the hall once more, checking both directions before catching my wrist and pulling me inside, the door closing behind us in one quiet motion.

The room held four cots like ours.

He stood by the bed looking at me, making no move toward a shirt, while I remained by the door.

“What are you doing at this hour, Little Star? Curious about where I’d gone?”

That smirk. That tone. That… Him. I didn’t understand why he stirred feelings in me.

“I have no care of what you think, Theron. How do I know you’re not simply telling me what I want to hear?”

“Do I seem like a man who tells people what they want to hear?”

“You seem like a man who does exactly what serves him.”

His features hardened to dangerous. He took one step toward me, then another.

I licked my lips, thinking of intelligent words, but his closeness burned every thought clean.

“You shouldn’t lick your lips, Little Star.” His voice dropped to a growl, low and rough against my ear. “You have no idea what it does to me.”

Gods, I wanted to know exactly what he meant.

He moved so fast I had no time to register it. His arms wrapped around my waist and he pinned me to the wall, jaw tight, eyes dropping to my mouth. “We’ve had this conversation, Little Star.” His thumb brushed the curve of my waist, barely a touch but I felt it everywhere. “Do you not remember? Shall I remind you?”

My breath came out unsteady. “I remember.”

“Do you?” He didn’t believe me. The smirk said so.

“You said—” But what had he said? His closeness was dismantling every thought I’d had. I could feel the warmth radiating off his bare skin, and it was deeply unfair that he stood there looking like that while expecting me to form words.

“Take your time,” he murmured, pleased with himself. “While I distract you.”

His lips brushed the curve of my jaw. Then lower, slower, tracing a path down my neck. What was he doing to me?

My hands found his chest, to push him away. I loved the feel of his skin too much to move them.

He drew me closer until there was nothing between us but the fabric of my shirt and whatever remained of my resolve—dissolving fast.

“Theron.” His name came too soft.

He stilled. His mouth hovered just below my ear, breath warm against my skin. “Say it again.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I managed.

Don’t stop. Kiss me. Show me what it feels like to be wanted.

I felt him smile against my neck, his hands going higher.