Page 115 of The Gaybor War

His mouth twitches. "Earlier you said I looked like Blackbeard."

"You looked like Blackbeard if he filed paperwork efficiently."

That finally gets a laugh out of him, low and warm and entirely too satisfying.

God. I like making him laugh.

"You did alright yourself." He eyes my open shirt.

I gasp softly. "Just alright? Carter, I wore leather pants tight enough to alter circulation."

"You complained about them for three hours."

"Beauty is pain."

"You also nearly blinded a waiter with that amount of chest glitter."

"Collateral damage."

He shakes his head, smiling, and the fondness in it hits harder than the tequila did earlier.

I roll onto my side and rake my gaze over him. "You know what your problem is?"

"I’m sure you’re about to tell me."

"You pretend to be intimidating, but secretly you like me."

"I tolerate you."

"That’s not what your face says when I flirt with you."

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

Oh. Oh, that’s interesting.

I scoot closer, glowing. "Wait. Are you blushing?"

"I’m not blushing."

"Captain Blackbeard does blush."

"I do not."

"This is a huge win for me."

"That seems dramatic."

"I’m dramatic."

"That’s true."

We’re close enough now that I can feel the heat coming off him. Close enough that his hand brushes mine between us. The teasing slowly drains out of the room, leaving something quieter behind. Softer. More dangerous.

"This feels a little couple-y," I murmur.

"It does."

"That should concern us."