I glance at the ice cube in Basco's hand, then back at him. He really is pleasant to look at, not just his face but the whole package, tall and lean. I admit I may have spent moments watching him move since arriving on the ship.

Hell. If he wants to play, I can play.

I reach for his hair, grabbing fistfuls of curls and bandana and yanking him close. I crush our lips together, purposefully hard; payback for the pepper sniping.