Page 61 of Ruining His Smirk

My gaze shifted towards the man whose sweater I’d stolen before I could stop it. He was already looking at me and I didn’t miss the way his eyes widened when he saw what I was wearing. His mouth softened into an O. I wanted to kiss that mouth.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” the captain continued, oblivious to my misplaced urges. “Make the most of it.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Look out there.” The captain seemed to be in a mood.

I glanced past the submersible equipment toward the sea. Dexter would have loved to be here, but his Zodiac outing had apparently already been planned before mine.

“This area is among the least researched and least visited places on Earth,” the captain said. “Very few vessels can reach it. Fewer still can put human beings on the seafloor beneath the ice. For all practical purposes, you may as well be going to Mars.”

I gave him a wry smile. “That reassuring, is it?”

The captain laughed. I liked the guy. A leader ought to have a disposition like his to keep morale up on such an expedition. A brooding captain like those from the old movies would not have cut it.

Beside him, Nate kept quiet, but he hadn’t stopped studying me with an intent gaze. For a moment, I panicked that I’d maybe forgotten to put on pants, so focused I’d been on the sweater.

“Nate hasn’t seen this site either,” the captain continued. “Well, gentlemen, are you ready?”

We walked towards the submersible. The passenger compartment was a sphere—a perfect clear bubble large enough for two people and little else. There were no separate windows because the entire cabin was the window, including the curved walls and the floor beneath the seats. The bubble itself sat inside a heavy metal framework that supported the engine housing and the machinery at the rear.

Nate stepped toward the platform beside the submersible. He paused before climbing and glanced back at me.

There was only one opening on the top of the bubble. It seemed to serve as both entrance and exit, which meant anyone boarding had to climb onto the machine and lower themselves through it.

One of the deck crew steadied him as he climbed onto the frame. I could see him immediately through the transparent bubble walls, shifting into the seat and moving toward the pilot’sposition. From outside, it looked like someone had placed him inside a glass ornament.

The deck crew gestured for me to follow. Unlike Nate, I climbed onto the platform with all the grace of an ape. Up close, the opening looked smaller than it had from below.

Ah, jeez. I’d better not get stuck.

Nate watched me from inside. I braced my elbows against the thick acrylic rim, shifted my weight, and lowered myself until my hips cleared the opening. There was no dignified method after that. I released my hold and dropped the final short distance into the cabin.

I landed half on his lap and almost tumbled down onto the floor. One of his hands caught my waist automatically to steady me. For a moment, our eyes met and my heart rate shot up.

Somehow I managed to right myself and slid into the seat next to him. The interior was even tighter than it had appeared from outside. Two molded seats formed almost a single bench against the rear of the sphere, leaving our bodies pressed close from shoulder to thigh. Screens and compact instrument panels curved around the cabin wherever there was room, small displays and controls fitted neatly along the edges without obstructing the view. There was no private direction to look. Through the acrylic, I could see the crew moving around us. And no matter where I looked, I remained aware of him beside me.

Nate was already busy with the final check-in, his attention fixed on the communication panel. I made sure to touch fucking nothing. I didn’t want the damn hatch to open while we were underwater because my fat fingers had hit the wrong button.

The submersible lifted from the deck. We hung suspended above the deck. I held on to the seat tightly.

“Submersible to bridge,” Nate said. “Primary systems are stable. Internal pressure normal. Life support normal. Communications clear.”

A voice answered through the speaker, followed by a brief exchange of numbers and confirmations I only half listened to. The crane began to move, carrying us slowly away from the deck and out over the stern. The ship shifted beneath and behind us until there was nothing directly below us, only very dark blue water.

“Hold position,” the comm speaker crackled. “The external camera feed isn’t syncing properly with the dive recorder. The submersible is fine, but we need to reset the system and run the recording check again before we lower you.”

“Sure.”

“Hang in there, gentlemen.”

Nate leaned toward the communication panel. “We are quite literally hanging in here.”

A laugh crackled through the speaker. “Which is why I couldn’t let the opportunity pass.”

Nate laughed.

“Give us about fifteen minutes.”