Too late; my awkwardness had already made an unforgettable appearance, so, of course, I couldn’t be let off the hook.

Despite the cold chill, she burned inside with a hunger she didn’t want to dismiss. Not tonight.

Her lips against his, the sun soaking into their skin, and the sweet, fragrant breezes that wafted through this isolated picnic area was nothing short of perfection.

Because one look into his eyes, and she was drowning in what existed there and didn’t want to surface.

Because if I fell any deeper for the way his eyes crinkled with his smile or his habit of tapping on his nose to emphasize a point, my ship would be sunk.

The dreams that surfaced upon meeting up with him again winked out of existence, stars darkening for good.

Geoff’s arm emanated with a solid warmth I longed for after our days aboard S.S. British-Craphole.