Page 59 of Dagger in the Sea

Taking a deep breath,I knocked on Turo’s cabin door.

I tugged on the end of the short skirt of my dress as I shifted my weight on my damned heels. Why was I so nervous? Was it the party? Was it because I had fingered myself to an almost orgasm fantasizing about him less than two hours ago? Something I hadn’t done in forever?

I hadn’t felt this crazy combination of feelings and anticipation in a long time. No, not like this. This was exhilarating, a high.

I like him. A lot.

And I was fascinated by him too. Tonight we would be spending the evening together and I looked forward to it. Close together. With hundreds of other people, but still, close together.

“Come in.”

My stomach dipped at the sound of his strong voice. The strong, sure voice that belonged to the strong, sure man who saved me from bullets, paparazzi, but he hadn’t saved me from his tongue.

I pushed open the door. “Turo?”

He pivoted, and my breath caught in my chest. A towel was wrapped around his waist. Low, low on his waist. His skin shimmered with a sheen of water. He’d just gotten out of the shower. His shoulders, arms, chest were sculpted in hard lines and firm planes, a dusting of hair in all the right places. There was nothing overdone, trying too hard, imposing to impress; he was perfect. He took care of himself, and that was incredibly sexy.

Heat flooded my chest, swarming through my insides. “Oh, pardon, I—”

His eyes glittered in the beams of sunlight coming in through the small window of the cabin. He enjoyed my mental stutter as my eyes swallowed up his fine assets.

“No pardons necessary.”

“They never are with you, I think.” I grinned, my shoulders relaxing.

“Rarely.” He unfastened the towel, tossing it on the bed in one quick move.

Amán.

I stilled, my eyes bolting to his. Two could play this game. My intense curiosity to see his—I was very certain—generous endowment gnawed at me. I couldn’t help but notice it last night when he’d pressed against me during the first kiss. And earlier on the deck. My eyes remained locked on his.

He pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs that had been laying on the bed. He had all the time in the world. He stalked over to the closet, and my eyes fell on his sculpted rear. Those long, baggy American swim trunks had hidden a very fine bum. Muscular and round. The long muscles of his broad back moved as he pulled out a shirt and a dark suit from the closet.

“Wait. You’re still wet,” I said.

He stopped in his tracks as if I’d told him to freeze. I took the shirt and suit from his hands and laid them carefully on the tightly made bed. Picking up his damp towel, I patted the firm flesh of his back with it, rubbing it down his arms and over his shoulders under his heavy gaze. His breathing audibly quickened.

“Do you need anything…pressed?” I breathed in his ear, keeping my tone matter of fact as I continued to rub over his chest. “That can be taken care of.”

“Could it?” he said, his voice husky.

“Oh, yes.”

He grabbed the towel from me. “Please.”

I went over to the side of his bed, picked up the telephone, and called the housekeeper, asking her to send someone to pick up Turo’s clothes for a quick press. Turo watched me as he brushed a hand down his mouth.

I hung up the phone. “On their way.”

Smirking, he tugged on the plush whiteAllegrabathrobe from the closet. He left the bloody robe open, and my gaze fell to his chest, down his firm, rippled muscles, chiseled one by one. My mouth dried, and a low noise growled in his throat, making my gaze return to his. He moved toward me. The gentleman beast.

A loud knock at the door and my body jerked at the sound. I opened it. The steward had arrived.

“Signorina?”

I gestured absently at the bed. The steward scooped up Turo’s clothes and left, charging down the hallway.

Alone again.

---