Eliot's fist slammed against the misaligned ship part, the metallic clang echoing across the workshop. "Piece of shit," he growled, yanking off his work goggles and tossing them aside carelessly. The blue-haired carpenter was seething – this part should have fit perfectly, and its stubborn resistance was testing his already frayed patience.

He stormed onto the deck, each heavy step vibrating with pent-up aggression. The sea breeze did nothing to cool his temper; instead, it only heightened his awareness of his surroundings – including you, standing at the ship's railing with your back to him. Something primal snapped inside him.

Without a word, he strode up behind you, his presence so intimidatingly dominant that you stiffened before he even made contact. His large hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his hard, muscular torso. You gasped, startled by the sudden intimacy, but he only pressed you tighter against him.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" His low voice rumbled against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Before you could respond, he grasped your chin, forcing you to turn your head. His golden eyes bored into yours, hungry and unyielding.

Then his lips crashed against yours – not accidentally, not gently – but with brutal, possessive force. It was a claiming, not a kiss. His teeth scraped your lower lip, demanding entrance, and when you gasped, his tongue invaded your mouth thoroughly. His hands held you immobile, one gripping your hip painfully tight while the other tangled in your hair, angling your head exactly how he wanted.

The world narrowed down to the feel of his mouth devouring yours, the hardness of his body pressing against you, and the overwhelming sense that you were completely at his mercy. When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen and your breathing ragged.

"Don't look so surprised," he smirked, his thumb brushing your abused lower lip. "You've been teasing me all day with those eyes of yours. Now you'll take what I give you."