wasn’t as if she was revealing anything he couldn’t already almost see. But Jackson couldn’t tear away his gaze as she slowly, meticulously revealed each inch of golden skin. He stayed where he was until she reached her breasts, which swelled round and inviting over the edge of white lace.
Spinning on his heel, Jackson bolted for the bedroom, his own lungs heaving as if he’d been the one to cough up a gallon of seawater.
He raked his fingers through his hair, shook off the water that still clung to him, not caring what got wet in the process. Behind him, the bathroom door closed with a quiet click.
The barrier didn’t help. He could hear her moving around in the small space. Imagine her standing in his shower, using his shampoo and running her soap-covered hands over her naked body.
After yanking off his own wet clothes, he donned dry ones and pulled out an old T-shirt and gym shorts for her.
He wanted to escape above deck before he did something stupid. Such as tear the bathroom door off its hinges so he could help her rinse away the suds. He even started to leave, but he couldn’t make himself go. Not until he knew she was actually okay.
So instead he began to prowl the small space, an uncomfortable sensation tingling at the back of his neck. The longer Loralei stayed in that room, the worse it became. He started worrying, remembering how she’d looked lying on the dock, eerily still and lifeless.
Break in the door or wait?
He’d never been one for indecision, but tonight he couldn’t make up his mind.
Which only frustrated him more.
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