Evie Stanton
Thane seemed distracted for the remaining duration of dinner. Part of me was happy he wasn’t asking any more questions. The rum had loosed my inhibitions, and I shared more than I wanted to.
I felt thankful he conceded, giving me some privacy to get dressed for bed. I undid the sash around my waist, dropping the crimson fabric against the headboard.
“…you would’ve found yourself in my cabin, cuffed to my headboard under different pretenses.”
A shiver ran down my spine. My skin became hot to the touch. I brushed Thane’s words from my mind.
I kicked off my shoes, keeping my socks on. After unclipping the buttons on the front of the leathered pants, I pushed them off. Instantly, I felt more comfortable. I climbed beneath the furs, suddenly bombarded with his scent. The mouthwatering scent of musk and brine.
I ignored the erotic stroke between my thighs.
I’ve slept in Thane’s bed once in only a shirt.
Why would this be any different?