Rebecca
Rebecca
My bare feet had never felt anything so smooth and—“It’s warm.”
“Yes, mate. I heated the floor for your comfort.”
“You what?”
“If you prefer, I am happy to carry you again.”
“Again?”
“When you were injured, I carried you here, to my ship.” His hand settled at the curve of my back, low enough to make me want to press my body to his and see what happened. “You are very small. It is no burden to hold you in my arms.”
Was that eagerness in his voice? Me? Small? Was he on drugs? I was well above average in every department. Height. Weight. Backside and cup size. Yet he towered over me, the top of my head not quite reaching his shoulder. I felt small. Feminine. I believed him when he said he could carry me.
Damn, that was hot.
hot.“No, thank you. I can walk.” Walk where
