Eugenia didn’t know what to say. For once, the captain didn’t push.
No sex took place on his massive bed, only soft caresses in the dark. Sleep-tangled bodies and lazy mornings.
Her period came, Eugenia ignoring the cramps to face her captor and announce, “I win!”
He didn’t mind the mess, pulling her to his chest to stroke her hair. “You do, honey.”
The blood was right there. Right there on the sheet. And then it hit her, and the words sounded sad. “There’s no baby.”
“We can try again.” Arms tightened, a firm body holding her still. “Don’t cry.”
But she did. She fell to pieces, and she didn’t know why.
***
Nelson’s Textbook of Pediatrics, Volume II was in her hands. Aaron was rubbing her feet. A dark, lazy night on the couch, Eugenia reading by candlelight.
With a thumb digging into her arch, an automatic bow to her spine, she fought the temptation to close her eyes and give over.
“Eugenia…” Playful, swiping his tongue over the tips of her toes, he called to her.
A very clear call for something more.
Plucking the textbook from her fingers, he cocked his lips. Away went valuable knowledge and on came a hungry male, prowling. Slow, efficient, in his conquering of the damsel on the couch.
The first kiss wasn’t inquisitive. It wasn’t searching. It didn’t ask.
Not that she let him get away with it. Hand to his chest as if she had a dream of shifting his weight, she bit. And he laughed, biting her back until she yelped.
Her snarl followed with the captain knocking her book to the floor, working his knees between her thighs, and leaving her gasping when he rocked against her.
“No more putting it off.” All growls, all husky moans, he worked his clothed hips between her legs. “No more pretending not to look at me then blushing when you get caught. No more teasing. No more pining.”
“Do I climb on all fours and promise to keep my head forward?” The spite, it came through, Eugenia unsure if it was intentional or not.
Aaron’s pain followed, though it was buried deep in a searching hazel gaze. “I want to see your face. You know that.” Running the length of his pants-clad erection over her panties, his demeanor hardened. “Not that I won’t make love to you that way when the mood strikes.”
He always called it making love. Whispered about the things he would do to her in her ear as she woke, detailed exactly which part of her body he couldn’t wait to lick, suck, tease when they showered.
Two weeks of readjustment and an endless sensual assault.
Ending now.
Because she was wet—he had that power. More importantly, he had that skill.
But so did she. One lingering look before he went to work and she’d leave him adjusting himself and cursing. Licking her lips when they dined on fish, on berries from Joan, overtly sexual and entirely cruel, she made him a simmering monster of need.
Need she refused to fulfill yet egged on with mean giggles and evil lip-biting.
That was their game.
Chase and take.
“Aaron?”
Drawl liquid, he said, “Yes, honey?”
No way was she going to allow him to set the precedent. Kiss-flushed lips to his ear, she whispered, “I never did teach Chloe my deepthroat secrets.”