My. God. Water drops glistened on Nikolai’s bare skin, catching the glow from the small green desk lamp. His honey-gold hair was dark and wet, rivulets dripping down his angled cheekbones onto his shoulders and chest, slick and shadowed in the dim light. On his right pec was an elaborate tattoo that looked like . . . eagles maybe? . . . and a double anchor. His legs were slightly spread, his feet planted against the motion of the boat. Lord have mercy. There was no doubt, whatsoever, of his gender. All that made her mouth water, but what got her in the end were his eyelashes. They were long and tawny and spiked with moisture, making him look like some kind of sultry, seductive demon. Her own personal demon of temptation. Those dark bedroom eyes were enticing her to do something that every cell in her body told her would be a terrible, terrible mistake. But she just couldn’t help herself. She stepped into the stateroom. And closed the door behind her. He regarded her evenly, warily.
