Page 34 of Weathering The Storm

I take a sip, looking out at the ocean that I can smell on his skin. Nothing but dark, rolling swells as far as the eye can see.

“Thanks. Been too long since my last cup of coffee.”

“You told me to find a new excuse.” The navigation display illuminates his features, painting his smile bright white as heleans against the console beside me. “This seemed safer than cutting my hand open again.”

“How’s it looking?” I ask, finding a stable place to set my coffee and brushing a thumb over his bandage.

“You’d know better than I would.” He holds his hand out to me, palm up. “Speaking of finding excuses…”

I go to the cabinets, fishing out the first aid kit and patting the bench seat for him. “Crew safety is my number one job responsibility.”

He chuckles, and I do too. We both know there’s no reason for me to be cleaning and dressing his mostly-healed wound twice a day.

“I don’t recall you wrapping Perry’s leg when he gaffed himself last year,” he says as he sits next to me.

“His cut was nowhere near as deep.”

“Ah, so that’s why.”

“No other reason whatsoever.”

I take off my gloves and unravel the old bandaging, revealing the scabbed-over slash across Seth’s palm. His hand twitches as I apply antiseptic, lacing just the tips of our fingers together while it dries.

“It does look better,” I say. “Might have to find a new excuse myself.”

“Does that mean I can finally get off the fuckin’ hauler controls?”

“I don’t know. It could still re-open under enough strain.”

“Don’t think so. I put it through quite a bit of strain this morning.” He leans in closer, brown eyes mapping my reaction. “Takes a while for anything else to get me there, now that I know how good it feels with you.”

My face heats. I scramble for composure as my gaze drops to his dick, but instead of calling me out on it, he rotates his knee outward.

“It’s like you’re trying to single-handedly derail the business that’s been in my family for fifty years,” I say.

“I’m trying to flirt with you, Nicky. But nice to know it’s working.”

It’s working all right.

“Fine,” I backpedal. “You can resume operations as normal today, if you’re up for it.”

“I’vebeenup for it. I could use some sweat therapy.”

“Nope. Not talking about sweat therapy with you right now.” I rip open a waterproof dressing and carefully apply it. “I’m barely able to do my job as it is.”

“Ah. So maybe we both need some sweat therapy then.” As soon as the bandage is down, he takes my chin in the crook of his forefinger. “Perry’s on watch at 2300, isn’t he?”

I fumble with the latch on the first aid kit, accidentally slamming it shut. “We can’t…”

“Is that a question or an order, Captain?” He brushes my lip with his thumb. “‘Cause it sounded like the first, and if that’s the case, then you know my answer iswe can.”

“It’s an order.” I get up, putting some distance between us before I lay him down and kiss the sea salt off of him. “And I need you on deck. That’s an order, too.”

“Yes, sir. And where are you gonna order me to be at 2300?”

“To yourcabin.” I’m trying for authoritative, but I nearly laugh at the persistently roguish tilt to his lips. “It’s not like there’s anywhere we could be alone, anyway.”

Personal space isn’t exactly a plentiful resource on theSuoja. A hundred feet isn’t as much distance as it seems when the whole ship is an echoey metal chamber built for durability, not privacy.