Page 16 of All That Glitters in Pelican Point

She sighs and wipes her hands on the hem of the shirt—my shirt—before meeting my eyes. “Then what is?”

“You,” I say, quieter now. “You’re the point.”

She blinks, startled. Her smart mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“I’ve watched people run toward danger for glory, for revenge, for the thrill. But you? You do it for the truth. For history. And I respect the hell out of that,” I tell her, voice low, steady. “But Crystal… that doesn’t mean I want to lose you to a collapsed ceiling or some rival asshole playing dirty.”

Something shifts in her expression. The fire dims just a little—not gone, but tempered. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says softly.

“Well, congratulations. Mission accomplished.”

She steps closer, the sunset catching gold in her hair, and rests a hand on my chest. “You’re not exactly easy on the blood pressure either, Devlin.”

My pulse jumps at the feel of her fingers against me. “Yeah, well… I was fine until a certain reckless historian showed up and turned my boat—and my brain—upside down.”

She grins. “You’re welcome.”

And God help me, I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. But I don’t. Not yet.

“I mean it,” I say, catching her hand before she pulls away. “You belong here. On this boat. In this mess. With me.”

She searches my face like she’s trying to read between the lines. “Even when I’m muddy and difficult and prone to breaking and entering?”

“Especially then,” I murmur.

Her grin turns wicked. “You say that now…”

“I’ll say it again later,” I promise.

And in that moment—standing there with her hand in mine, the sun burning out behind her, and the world finally quiet—I know this is it. The start of something real. Dangerous, sure. Unpredictable? Always. But real.

And I’m not walking away from it. Not a chance.

"You’re reckless," I mutter, low and rough, tossing her a clean towel with a flick of my wrist. It’s not just an accusation—it’s a damn prayer she’ll listen to me before she gets herself killed. The words come out sharper than I intend, but watching her almost get buried alive rewired something deep in me, and it's not something I can pretend isn't there.

She catches it without looking, a slow, wicked grin tugging at her mouth. "You’re bossy," she says, tossing it at me like a live grenade. Like it’s as obvious and inevitable as the tides, as gravity, as the way my blood pumps harder every time she opens her smart mouth and dares me to do something about it. And damned if I don’t want to.

"Someone has to be," I say, voice low and steady, even though part of me wants to throw the towel down and demand she take this seriously. But I don't. Instead, I hold her gaze, daring her to keep pushing—because if there's one thing Crystal Evans knows how to do, it's push every button I didn't know I had.

She lifts her chin, a spark lighting her entire face, cocky and radiant. "I found something, didn’t I?" Her voice holds that unmistakable lilt—that edge of pride and defiance—like she already knows the answer and dares me to argue. And damn it, part of me is proud, even if the other part wants to tie her to the boat just to keep her safe.

"Nothing absolutely definitive, and you almost got yourself killed finding it," I say, voice low and harder than I mean it to be. The words land between us like a thrown gauntlet, heavy and sharp. I’m not just angry—I'm scared. Shaken. And watching her standing there, fearless and infuriating in my shirt, makes me want to kiss her and yell at her all at once.

"Almost doesn’t count," she snaps, chin tilted stubbornly, like she’s daring me to find fault with her survival. But underneath all that fire, there’s a glint of something else too—relief, maybe. Gratitude, she won’t let herself say out loud. And damned if it doesn’t make me want to grab her and kiss her senseless right there.

The air between us snaps tight, a live wire stretched to the breaking point. One second we’re locked in a glare that says everything we’re too stubborn to admit, and the next, I’m moving before I can think better of it. She gasps when I crowd her against the cabin wall, but it’s not fear—not even close. It’s a challenge. Heat. That wild, electric hunger that’s been crackling between us from the start, finally snapping free.

"Just adrenaline," she says, tossing the words between us like a life preserver neither of us really believes in. Her voice is too steady, too rehearsed—a brittle cover for the way her body still leans into mine, the way her breathing hitches every time our skin brushes. She’s trying to make it smaller, safer—but there’s nothing safe about what’s happening here. Not even close.

But she’s wrong. I know it in the marrow of my bones, the same way I know how to read a current or trust the instinct that’s saved my life more times than I can count. She knows it too—I see it in the way her eyes won’t quite meet mine, the way her body still leans into me even after the words leave her mouth. Whatever this is between us—it’s not just adrenaline. It’s something deeper, something dangerous. And it’s already too late to pretend otherwise.

"You drive me crazy," I growl, voice thick with frustration and something hotter threading underneath. It’s not just the way she argues, or the way she flashes those brilliant eyes at me—it’s how she makes me feel everything I’m not supposed to. How she makes it impossible to stay cool when all I want to do is lose myself in her.

"Right back at you," she whispers, but it’s not light, not casual—it’s low and rough, edged with the same raw hunger tightening every nerve in my body. Her eyes darken, locked on mine like she’s daring me to take this all the way. And God help me, I’m done holding back.

Locked in a passionate kiss, there's no slow dance—just raw carnality. It's like an explosion, a rough and unyielding collision of lips and egos that steals away breaths, leaving no room for second thoughts. The kiss is wild, filled with urgency I don't quite understand. After all, I haven't known this woman for any length of time. But still the walls that seemed to have been there crumble into dust amidst a melee of tangled limbs and bodies slamming together with feral desperation.

Her nails rake across my shoulders like jagged pieces of coral, a desperate claim that sears through the last of my restraint. She's clinging to me as if I'm the only thing tethering her to this world—and maybe I am, because God knows she's mine in this moment, too. Her taste is a heady, dizzying mix of salt, heat, and something so wickedly sweet it borders on lethal, a siren’s call daring me to surrender everything I thought mattered. Survival isn't even a whisper in my mind now—only her, only this.

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