The thought of thirty or forty people wandering the ship half-dressed—or not dressed at all—pressed against Dominique’s deepest forbidden desires. Couples exchanging partners. Strangers touching in moonlit corners. Passion without shame or restraint. Every image flooded her mind at once, dangerous and intoxicating.
Steve slipped an arm around her waist in reassurance, but the warmth of his touch only made things worse.
She wanted him.
Not later. Not privately behind a locked door. Right there in the lounge, with the sea breeze drifting through the open windows and temptation thick in the air. Her pulse fluttered wildly as she looked up at her husband with helpless longing.
This is wrong.
Dominique straightened her posture, clinging to control. She was a Christian woman. A loyal wife. The mere thought of another man touching her should have horrified her.
So why did her body betray her?
Why did every mention of the cruise send heat rushing through her? Why did her skin feel too tight, her breathing too shallow, her thoughts dangerously unfocused?
As Buffy approached, she studied the couple carefully, masking her amusement behind a polished professional smile. They were exactly the kind of guests the cruise attracted—beautiful, restrained, curious enough to pretend innocence while secretly aching for something more.
And Dominique… men would lose their minds over her.
Buffy’s sheer white skirt drifted around her tanned legs like smoke, almost transparent in the sunlight pouring through the lounge windows. Steve’s throat tightened when he realized she wore nothing beneath it.
Behind her came the ship’s captain, broad-shouldered and commanding in a brilliantly pressed white tropical uniform adorned with gold trim. He carried authority as naturally as breathing.
“Allow me to introduce our captain,” Buffy said softly.
The captain shook Steve’s hand firmly before turning to Dominique. His large hand enclosed hers completely, lingering just long enough to make her aware of it.
Far too aware.
A strange warmth spread through her body. She lowered her eyes quickly, disturbed by how intensely she noticed him—the deep voice, the scent of salt and cologne, the effortless confidence radiating from him like heat from sun-warmed steel.
When she sat back, she didn’t notice the dampness beneath her thin dress or the way the fabric had begun clinging translucently against her skin.
“Unfortunately,” the captain said regretfully, settling beside her, “your reservation was confirmed, but no cabin assignment was attached to it.”
Dominique barely heard him.
The closeness of him unsettled her. Every word seemed to vibrate through her chest. She became painfully conscious of Steve sitting beside her, wondering if he could somehow sense the storm building inside her.
“It may be possible to arrange something,” the captain continued carefully. “A personal friend of mine has a private suite with an adjoining room.”
His dark eyes rested on Dominique for a fraction too long.
“If he agrees,” the captain said quietly, “you would be treated like honored guests.”