“I am many things, but an exhibitionist is not one of them.” He gestures at a recess down the hall that I’m starting to recognize as a ship door. “This is where our mess is. Come. You can eat and I can tell you all about how I won’t touch you without your permission.” “You keep adding that ‘your permission’ thing,” I point out. He glances down at me, and his eyes are warm, his smile inviting. “That is because, my sweet Fran, I plan on having your permission. Just not today.”
