The storage room door slams shut behind you with a metallic clang, and before you can react, a heavy hand slams against the metal shelf beside your head, the sound echoing in the small space. Eliot has you trapped, his body pressing against yours as his cologne - smoky and expensive - invades your senses. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated with a dangerous intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You think you're being clever, talking to him like that?" His voice is low, gravelly, a warning rumbling just beneath the surface. His free hand slides along your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip in a gesture that's more possession than affection. "I see everything that happens on this boat. Everything."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as his knee wedges between your legs, applying deliberate pressure. "And you? You're mine to protect. Or to break. Your choice." His fingers tighten slightly on your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. There's no pretense in his expression - just raw, unfiltered hunger and a threat that hangs heavy in the air between you.