I scratched my head and just turned my back on him. Then, I took off my coat after letting out a loud sigh, one loud enough for him to hear, with the hope that it might knock some shame on him.
How could he say I wasn't familiar with this world's clothes, when we were both outsiders? Was his world similar to this setting?
I heard clothes rustling from behind me, so I instinctively looked back to check. Something sinful blinded my eyes, yet they stared, unable to look away.
I didn't mean to ogle.
Truly. I raised myself better than this.
But the moment the captain peeled that shirt off like a caveman infuriated by too much fabric, my morals took a coffee break and left my eyeballs unsupervised.
Good lord.
His back looked like it bench-pressed planets for fun. Broad shoulders, lean waist, muscles rippling in ways that made my brain short-circuit and my mouth go dry.
If sin had a shape, it was that V that disappeared into his waistband.
