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 can he say I'm not familiar with this world's clothes, when we're both outsiders? Is 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.
