Page 73 of Ruining His Smirk

I opened the communications channel.

“Submersible to bridge.”

Static crackled softly through the cabin before the communications officer answered.

“Bridge here.”

“The probe has completed its initial route. We are programming one additional full pass for supplemental imageryand video along the western edge of the site. Estimated extension is twenty minutes.”

“Life-support status?”

I checked the readouts. “Internal pressure is stable. Oxygen and carbon dioxide levels are normal. Battery reserve looks good.”

“Copy.”

I closed the channel and the cabin returned to near darkness. For a little while, I remained upright and watched the probe.

Garrett’s thumb slipped under the wool at my waist and began tracing a slow pattern back and forth. The probe lights faded into the distance.

The only illuminated area was immediately around the submersible. The floodlights showed the seafloor, which never failed to astonish me with its diversity. A pale, elongated body moved between a sponge and a cluster of brittle stars. I raised one hand and pointed.

“That is a sea cucumber.”

Garrett followed my finger. “Which one?”

“The pale one beside the sponge.”

“That thing?”

“Yes.”

“Funny-looking little bastard.”

“An astute scientific observation.”

“Put it in your posh papers.”

I chuckled. “I’ll cite you.”

I allowed my body to settle backward. His arms closed around me immediately. I rested my cheek against his shoulder and tucked my face into the warm hollow between his neck and the sweater collar. The thumb that was tracing patterns on my waist got replaced by a large warm palm. He laid it flat against my skin.

Garrett pressed another kiss to my forehead. A little later, his mouth found my cheek. Then my temple. He seemed incapable of leaving me untouched for more than a few moments.

I relaxed more fully into him until I could no longer distinguish where I started and where he ended. I drew a deep breath against the skin of his neck. Under the clean trace of soap, there was a woodsy scent of his cologne. I drew another breath, hungry for more. Another note emerged beneath it, softer and warmer than I had expected.

Sandalwood.

The scent was faintly sweet under the darker wood, subtle enough that I might never have noticed it from a distance. Oh, but the combination had me swooning. The helpless flutter in my stomach came back.

I breathed in again, shamelessly this time. And then I remembered he was wearing my sweater. The realization sent another ridiculous little turn through my stomach. The darkness made every sensation more distinct. I could not properly see his face or anticipate the movement of his hands. My body started feeling like a live wire, sensitive with the anticipation of his next touch.

“I just remembered something,” I whispered without lifting my head, not wanting to disturb the calm that had enveloped us.

The hand moving along my side slowed, fingertips brushing against my ribs.

“Hmm?”

“You started saying sorry on the deck.”