Page 95 of Ship Outta Luck

His eyebrows shoot up.

I clear my throat. “Coffee, that is. I like it pretty strong. Americanos are what I order if I go somewhere fancier than the coffee cart on campus or my trusty coffee pot at home.”

A wave rocks the boat, the light sparkling off the greenish water.

“Do you like to go to fancy places?” His jaw works as he chews the protein bar and I study him, allowing hope to swell as sure as the current around us.

“There aren’t many fancy places in my college town.”

“I’d take you somewhere nice.” Dean clears his throat. “The real question is, would you want to go with me?”

A smile blooms on my face. “Are you asking me out?”

He returns the smile. “Caught me.”

“No.” I blurt. “Yes.”

“I think that’s what they call mixed signals.” One eyebrow rises.

My chest heaves, and I put my head on the steering wheel. The protein bar sticks to my teeth and I lick them, tired and faintly nauseated.

“June?”

“Sorry, my jaw’s been welded shut by this gourmet meal,” I manage, but it comes out garbled.

A calloused finger traces the line of my jaw.

“If this is just… if what’s between us is one-sided—we can chalk those kisses up to adrenaline.” His finger dips down the line of my neck, and my instant reaction belies his words.

There would be no one-sided to this. It would burn hot and fast and so good and then it would be over, ashes and third-degree scars.

I swallow again, dislodging the protein bar. “Pull theSpeedcard.”

Confusion mars his handsome face.

“You know, Sandra Bullock? Keanu Reeves? It’s a classic. But they don’t stay together, because whatever attraction they had was built on surviving an extreme circumstance.” I point at the space between us. “This could be an extreme circumstance.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, and my body comes alive as his muscles bunch. “Or maybe we could watch it together and take it slow.” A cocky grin tugs the corner of his mouth.

“Dean…” He withdraws his finger, and I miss it immediately. “I just think maybe we should get through this first. You know, one thing at a time. Survive, then see what happens.”

“See, that’s how we’re different. Helps me to have something to look forward to.” His gaze heats, raking over me, leaving no doubt as to what exactly he is looking forward to. “But I understand. When you’re ready, I’d love a dinner-and-a-movie night with you. Just dinner and a movie. If you’re not ready to answer, that’s fine. I’ll wait. If it’s a no, that’s fine too.”

It shouldn’t melt me, this gentlemanly side of him.

This side of him that is soft and patient and so dang hot.

Dean is a sharp edge, his entire body promising violence when he is in action. Except with me, his muscled body is thick with the promise of pleasure. I manage another bite of the protein bar, chewing slowly so I don’t open my mouth and take his.

The problem isn’t him waiting for an answer. The problem is I want to have sex with him immediately and often, and that—that—is a recipe for disaster.

A shrill ring interrupts the calm lapping of water against the side of the boat, and Dean frowns before removing his hand from the back of my chair and digging his phone out of the pack.

I nearly turn back to the fish finder, but that would interrupt the absolutely perfect view of an absolutely perfect derrière.

“Evans.” A pause. “Yep. Good to hear. Yeah. Let me check. Okay. Rendezvous at,” he checks his watch, “eleven hundred.”

He rattles off their GPS coordinates and my lips press into a thin line.

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