It was one thing for the major addition to his cabin to not be wearing a shirt, but somehow Killian also found himself questioning the quality of his own clothes. Since when had the fabric become so terribly thin that he might as well not have been wearing anything at all?
Who should he talk to for this concern and how should he even begin to explain how he noticed the problem?!
Every place where bare skin met fabric—or worse, bare skin—felt as though it had suddenly caught fire.
That unruly strip of exposed skin along his lower back, where his shirt had ridden up after being rolled over like one of Luca's snacks, felt as though it were fighting for its very survival. Any more friction, and he was certain he'd end up jerking away like he'd been burned.
The struggling Killian definitely hadn't anticipated this tonight of all nights, when he'd assumed everyone would simply get some rest and worry about tomorrow when it came.
