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Kiss me,she pleaded silently, craving the feel of his lips against hers, of his arms wrapped tightly about her.
He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Miss James, your fingernails are biting holes in my arm.”
It was only then that she realized she had reached out for him and grabbed his biceps.
Heat flooded her face and she instantly let go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Kiss me, Sea Wolf. Kiss me now!
She wanted to scream it, but her lips and mouth were so dry that she couldn’t speak.
Morgan had seen plenty of come-hither looks in his time, but never on so innocent a face.
It would be so easy to sweep her up in his arms and carry her back to his bed. To peel her dress from her and run his tongue over every inch of her body until her taste was branded in his memory.
She was an innocent. And no matter how much he might want to, he wouldn’t rip that innocence away from her the way it had been stolen from Penelope.
The way the Brits and Winston had whipped the innocence out of him.
No, he couldn’t do it. Having been used, he refused to use another.
He could…contain himself.
He was used to disappointment. Had swallowed that bitter taste many times in his life. It was just a little more bitter than the others, but itwouldgo down.
Even if he had to chase it with a barrel of rum.
“If you’ll excuse me, Miss James. I need to get back topside.”
She frowned. “You haven’t eaten anything. You just changed into dry clothing!”
He snorted and said under his breath, “Yes, but I feel the need for another cold bath.”
Serenity sat alone in the cabin. Morgan had been right, the worst of the storm had passed, but the ship continued to creak and moan as it pitched and dipped on the choppy sea. She wasn’t sure how long it’d been since Morgan left, but the sky had turned darker.
She was anxious and bored and desperate for someone to talk to her when a knock sounded.
“Enter,” she called.
Morgan came in with Court, the cook’s son, a step behind. The boy placed a covered platter on the table, then quickly took his leave.
“Why is it, Captain, that you always seem to be wet when you’re near me?”
He muttered something about her and his wetness under his breath that she couldn’t decipher.
Peeling off his jacket, he said louder, “Cookie didn’t dare light a fire, so we have cold food this evening.”
As hungry as she was, it could have been shoe leather and she would have been grateful. Pulling back the lid, she quickly realized it probablywasshoe leather.
She wasn’t really sure what the dried brown lump was. “Yum,” she said aloud, “Hard-boiled wood, my favorite.”
He grunted. “It’s dried beef and onions. You’ll get used to it.”
Morgan grabbed more clothes out of his trunk, then went outside. After several minutes, he returned with his wet clothes dripping from his left hand.
“You can hang that up over here,” she said, pointing to the makeshift clothesline she had secured from the end of the bunk to the window. She’d found a ball of thin cord in his chest of drawers and she had used it to hang up his other clothes.
She didn’t know what he thought about her ingenuity. He kept his thoughts carefully guarded as he crossed the room and added his wet bundle to her growing collection.
