Chapter 27 #2
“Oh,” I say, thankful for the darkness hiding the heat in my cheeks as I look away, trying to settle my gaze anywhere but on him. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“No need to apologize.”
Tilting to the side again, he drops the rope plant back into the water, then straightens with a deep breath through his nose.
“We should, um,” I clear my throat. “We should probably go back.”
He nods. “We should.”
A moment passes, but neither of us moves. His eyes are pinned to my mouth again, and my lips part at the thought of what I would do if he leaned in and closed the distance between us.
I can’t find out, no matter how much my entire body feels like it has been engulfed in flames under his attention and touch.
“You can put me down now, Captain,” I finally whisper, my eyes trailing down to his lips once more, and I catch the quick clench of his jaw before it relaxes again.
His shoulders barely tense under my arms as he lets out another slow breath. I unhook my arms and legs, and he shifts me to his side, slowly lowering me until my feet splash into the water below, but not before my thigh brushes against the front of him, long and firm.
Oh gods.
Was Weston just as affected by the touch of our bare skin as me?
I step away quickly, turning in the direction of our belongings, and he does the same, putting more space between us as we wade slowly to the boulder.
He reaches it first and pulls himself up before leaning back down and offering me a hand.
Without a second thought, I take it, letting him hoist me up onto the warm dry surface.
Weston keeps his eyes averted as he bends to pick up his shirt and belt, but instead of sliding it over his shoulders, he extends the dry clothing out to me.
“Thanks,” I murmur as I slide it over my head, his scent immediately overtaking the smell of the sea and the fragrance of the trees on the wind. Leaning over, I wring the excess water out of my hair, the salt making the waves spring into shape, and pick up my dagger and still sopping clothes.
We amble along the rocks, weaving through them back to the beach, the silence thick between us, broken only by the rolling waves in the cove.
The ship is still dark and quiet as we climb the gangway and pad across the deck, but being back around the other Castaways, no longer alone in an isolated cove, brings me a little relief.
“Are you hungry?” Weston mumbles, his question so simple but so jarring after what had just happened in the water.
“I’m fine.”
We start down the stairs, and his voice remains low.
“I’m going to the galley to—” He stops abruptly, and I almost crash into his back. I lean to the side, peeking past him to see what is blocking his path, and shift on my feet when I see what caused his quick reaction.
Sig stands at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, fully dressed and strapped down with her weapons, with Jorn striding up beside her.
“Signee,” Weston says.
Her eyes narrow, gliding between us and taking in our state of undress: Weston shirtless in soaked cut off pants, and me wearing his shirt, both of us still dripping on the wood at our feet.
“Cap,” she says, with a lilt in her voice. I can’t tell what she is thinking. The glint in her eyes unreadable. She nods at me. “Lennox.”
Jorn glances between us, a casual smile on his face. “See you later!” he says before taking the steps two at a time and passing by us.
I bite my lip, feeling like I’ve been caught doing something wrong, when in fact that’s exactly what happened.
Except nothing actually happened.
Teaching someone in the crew how to swim is probably something Weston has done countless times.
But according to Sig, what he hasn’t done countless times is spend time alone with a woman, especially when that involves rubbing her almost naked body against his and looking like he was going to kiss her at any moment.
Shit.
He brushes past her, heading down the second flight of steps, and disappears below. I watch him go the entire way, the glow of the few lit torches casting shadows across his muscular back.
Sig clears her throat and my attention snaps back to her.
“What?” I ask when we are alone.
A hint of a smile graces her face before she says, “Nothing.” She jogs up the steps and just before she passes me calls back over her shoulder, “Hope you had fun,” then disappears through the opening, her footsteps echoing over the deck as she catches up with Jorn.
Fun isn’t really the right word to describe it, is it? I’m glad Weston taught me how to swim. I thanked him for it. I’m happy to be out of the sweltering room, but the rest of it is more confusing than fun.
I can’t deny the reaction my body has to Weston, and tonight was the worst it has ever been. Call it the heat, the proximity, the confusion at his complete change in behavior, it doesn’t matter.
It can’t happen again, and it won’t.
My time on this ship started out with pretending enough to convince Weston and the Castaways that I trust them, only to get what I wanted: a way out. It shifted to befriending them, but in the process, so much has changed and I feel like the only person I am convincing is myself.
Goosebumps erupt on my skin, and I know they aren’t from spending so much time in the cool water.
It’s from the reality that after so much time fighting it, maybe I am actually starting to trust Weston.