Morgan watched in amazement as Emilia’s blush spread across her cheeks. Emilia’s words repeated themselves in her mind. I wanted to fuck you against the boathouse wall. That was suddenly all she could think about, too.

“Oh my god, this is good,” Emilia said as she took her first bite.

Morgan watched Emilia close her eyes as she tasted the chowder. Her head spun. Too many thoughts flashed across her brain, but none found purchase save for one: Emilia wanted her.

She took a bite of her own chowder to prevent her mouth from hanging open in shock. The creamy base exploded on her tongue, warm and spiced and redolent of potatoes and fresh pepper, and yet she tasted these things like afterthoughts. Her heart seemed to be having trouble remembering its job, and a slow heat unfurled in her core—the kind of heat not even a plunge in Arctic waters could dispel. Emilia wanted her, and nothing in Morgan’s experience had prepared her for the strength of her reaction to that confession. Emilia continued to praise Sally’s kitchen and staff while she met Morgan’s gaze shyly across the table.

You, Morgan thought. You are going to wreck me.

•   •   •

It was dark when she led Emilia back down the ramp to the boat. High tide had receded, and the steepened slope of the ramp gave her a convenient excuse to put her hand on Emilia’s waist, though this made it challenging to concentrate on her own footing.

Once onboard, she pulled two flannel jackets from the boat’s small storage cubby and handed one to Emilia. It hung loosely around her shoulders. She would have kissed her right then if another group of diners had not chosen that moment to join them on the dock. At least her pager hadn’t gone off yet.

Moonlight illuminated their way across the bay toward South Bristol. Emilia stood behind her without speaking and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. The rightness of it reverberated with the humming of the engine. She kept the boat at a lower throttle on the way back. Starlight spotted the surf, and the smooth water unfurled the moon’s path before them.

Emilia’s lips brushed her neck. Morgan’s hands tightened on the wheel, and her breath hitched. She felt Emilia smile, and then her lips closed over the sensitive skin above Morgan’s shoulder and it took all her concentration to keep them on course. She swore under her breath.

“This is cruel, you know that, right?” she said when Emilia untucked her shirt.

Emilia’s nails trailed over her stomach in response. Her muscles tensed beneath them, and she willed Emilia not to stop as her hands traced the hem of her jeans. Then Emilia’s nails dragged up over the planes of her abs and across the fabric of her bra.