What was wrong with her? She was an adult. She shouldn’t be ruled by her fear like a child afraid of the dark.
It sucked even worse that Jackson Duchane had been the one to rescue her.
God, her lips still tingled where he’d pressed his mouth to hers and breathed life back into her lungs. Every nerve ending in her body was alive from the sensation of being carried by him. That chest. Those shoulders. She’d gotten a front-and-center introduction to the hard body hidden beneath his clothes.
And she wanted more.
Seriously, what was wrong with her?
Realizing the trembling had finally stopped, Loralei quickly picked up the single bottle sitting on the shelf and dumped a huge dollop of shampoo into her hand. A clean, crisp scent melted into the small space around her. Without thinking, she pulled in a deep breath. She already associated the salt and sandalwood combination with the man who’d saved her life.
Part of her wanted to curl into a ball in the corner of his shower, give in to the black pit of fear that was threatening at the edges of her consciousness. But she refused to succumb to the temptation.
Rinsing the residue of saltwater from her skin, she finally stepped from the comfort of the steam-filled space. She grabbed a towel and swiped it across her dripping hair several times before wrapping it around her body.
Glancing around, she realized she had nothing to put on.
Great.
It wasn’t bad enough that she had to face him, now she was going to have to do it wearing nothing but a scrap of terrycloth that barely covered her from chest to hip.
After sucking in a deep, calming breath, Loralei straightened her shoulders and reached for the door handle.
One step into the attached bedroom her bravado failed her and she froze.
Jackson was stalking around the small space. Tension radiated off his tight body. His hands were threaded together at the base of his neck, his back and shoulder muscles rippled against a T-shirt that looked well-worn and soft enough to wrap a newborn baby in.
Jesus. No man should look like that. Loralei’s heart slammed into her throat before dropping to her toes. Her stomach rolled, not from fear or the rocking ship, but from a burst of lust that nearly knocked her on her ass.
And that was before he turned around and raked her with those summer-blue eyes. Oh, shit. The intensity in his gaze had her swaying on her feet. Her body tingled, jumped to life. Beneath the thin layer of cotton, her nipples tightened into aching points, reminding her just how naked and vulnerable she was.
Before she could attempt to get a grip on her runaway libido, he was standing beside her. How had he moved so quickly?
The heat of his huge hand settled on her arm, steadying her.
“Easy,” he murmured. His voice, deep and rough, scraped across her senses.
“I was about to bust in there. You were taking a long time.”
Loralei stared up at him, surprised to see genuine concern swirling together with guilt. And lust. Dammit, that wasn’t helping her runaway hormones. Especially when the vision of him slipping into that tiny shower with her ghosted across her thoughts.
Shaking away temptation, Loralei licked her lips and said, “I’m fine.”
Was that really her voice? All scratchy and fragile?
His gorgeous mouth pulled down at the edges in a frown. Why did she suddenly have the urge to reach out and run the pad of her finger across his lips? Would they be as hard as the rest of him, or soft and yielding?
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Seriously.” She had to get a grip...on something other than him. Stepping away, Loralei watched his hand drop to his side. Already, she missed the comforting warmth that had spread through her from where he’d touched. “Hand me some clothes so I can head back to my hotel room.”
Jackson twisted and grabbed a pile from the small table beside the bed. Instead of holding them out to her, he pressed them against his chest and folded his arms over them. The veins running along his biceps pulsed.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
His words were the catalyst she needed to drag her gaze back to his stony expression.
“Of course I am. I need to get back to my crew.”
“What you need to do is rest.”
“Exactly. And the sooner you give me those the sooner I can get out of your hair.” Loralei held out her hand hoping he’d plop the clothes against her palm. He didn’t, but she kept her arm out anyway.
His expression turned harsh, those amazing eyes going as sharp as cut glass. She could see the argument coming and felt her own body respond, adrenaline surging into her already spinning system.
But before she could say anything, his entire body changed. All the tension bled out of him. His mouth softened. Tiny lines crinkled the edges of his eyes, which had melted into pools of heat.
Tossing the clothes back onto the bed behind him, he took a single step forward and filled her personal space. But he didn’t touch her. Was it wrong that she wished he had?
Instead, he laced his fingers behind his neck again.
“Loralei, you nearly drowned.”
Just those few simple words had the ghost of her panic welling inside her again.
“I know,” she whispered.
“I have to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t have any complications. There are plenty of reports of people dying hours after a near drowning.”
Loralei swallowed. That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear right now, but she’d deal with that unpleasant thought later. Right now she had to convince this man to step back and let her go.
Or she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep herself from reaching out and running her hands over his wide chest and shoulders.
“My crew can keep an eye on me. Tell me what to look for.”
She barely got out the words before he was shaking his head. “I threw you in. Even after you told me you couldn’t swim. You’re my responsibility.”
One thing made her hesitate. If she went back to her room she’d have to explain to Brian what had happened and why he had to keep an eye on her to make sure she was okay. He’d find out her secret.
It was bad enough Jackson knew she couldn’t swim. She really didn’t need any of her crew finding out. She was already the outsider, with little knowledge about how a diving ship operated.
Loralei pulled her lower lip into her mouth and worried it with her teeth as indecision twisted through her gut. She hated not knowing what to do.
Using his thumb, Jackson eased her lip away from the self-inflicted torture.
“You’re safe here, Loralei. I promise you.”
Maybe she was safe from him. Her mouth was tingling where he’d touched her. Waves of sensation radiated from the single, innocuous spot.
But who was going to protect her from herself?
* * *
HE REALLY HAD to get some clothes on the woman. He’d never noticed that his towel was particularly small, but the knot she’d twisted it into between her breasts was unraveling centimeter by centimeter, giving him a bigger glimpse of her smooth, tanned skin.
Her black hair curled damply around her shoulders in a riot of tangles that made him want to bury his hands in it and use it to pull her face