Page 125 of Ship Outta Luck

I take a long look at the bathtub. A long, hot bath sounds so good.

“It can wait.” I laugh.

He spins me around, pressing a kiss to my lips. Then he pushes me gently forward, and I laugh again. “Bathe. Relax.”

I move to the tub, bending over, turning the faucet on. Steam begins billowing into the room, and I start to shimmy out of my pants.

A low noise catches my attention and I stop, self-conscious.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

“Didn’t think you were the type to want to watch.”

“I am now.” His voice is rough against my senses, rasping in all the right places. His fingers curl against the doorframe.

“Go.” I swat at him. “I’ll be out quick and then you can shower.” I crinkle my nose.

“Or I could join you.”

“No.” If I let him in now, we’ll never make it to dinner. I want to ask those questions, dammit. And eat a steak. I’m starving.

If I never see a protein bar again, it will be too soon.

He bows his head. “Take your time, there’s a second bathroom. Blow dryer and other stuff is in the top drawer.”

“Okay.” I watch as he closes the door behind him, suddenly stunned by my circumstances. From being filthy on my boat, which now sits at the bottom of the gulf, to staying at an impossibly romantic hotel… then there is the incredibly sexy man who wants me.

Who I want right back.

We’re gonna do it. If I fist pump a little, who cares? No one’s here to see how dorky I am but me.

I open the top drawer and find a blow dryer, a curling iron, and a green velvet bag stashed inside. A quick peek inside shows a collection of my favorite cosmetics.

“Wow,” I murmur.

It should make me uneasy, how much he knows about me, that he’s been basically stalking me—with good intentions, sure. Considering the circumstances, I’m mostly relieved to have some familiar creature comforts.

I purse my lips. Charlie’s probably the one who tipped him off to these details, anyway.

It was beyond thoughtful of him to do it. A wee bit creepy, but kind.

Besides, I’m throwing caution to the wind, dammit.

He promised to answer all my questions, didn’t he?

And I’ll start by asking who the hell John Brandon is. Then move on to the goddamn radiation team. Maybe even cover favorite movies and deepest fears. My lips press into a frown. Healready knows my deepest fear—I’ve been living it for the past forty-eight hours.

But for now, I’ll revel in steam and good-smelling soap and hot, hot water.

If I play my cards right, I’ll get answers and maybe even an orgasm.

There’s a light knock on the door as I finish applying a second coat of mascara and study my reflection. My eyes look huge, lips a dark red. Way more makeup than I usually wear. This is high-octane fancy makeup, used only in case of emergency.

Needing an orgasm? Definitely a case of emergency.

“June?” The door creaks open, and I frown at my reflection.

“I locked that.”

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