Off Limits

‘Whatever the reason, no one stays around. So why have you?’

‘Because I like a challenge,’ I say honestly, my chin jutting out, my eyes holding to his. And he is still. Watchful. The air between us thickens.

‘I’m a challenge?’

I laugh. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

He reaches for a piece of sushi. I watch him eat it and my stomach squeezes. How can I want him again already? I am fire and flame, bursting with need.

‘Were you always like this? Or is it just since...Lucy?’

He frowns and doesn’t answer right away. I can practically see the cogs turning in his brain. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, before she...she died, did you have a constantly changing stream of staff?’

He shrugs. ‘No.’

I nod, slowly. So this is a hangover of Lucy’s death. My job, my being here, it all comes back to her. To Lucy.

The emotional strangulation of that is not something I think I’ll easily comprehend, and so I stand up slowly.

‘I’ve had enough for now.’ My eyes meet his and now I am the one issuing a challenge. ‘So show me.’

‘Show you what?’ he asks with a purposeful glint in his eye.

‘Show me what you want.’

Chapter Seven

I’M IN LIMBO.

Not asleep...not awake. I lie in his bed, my body throbbing with pleasures untold, my mind exhausted.

It is late. Somewhere between midnight and dawn. And I am his.

I lift up on one elbow, my eyes hazy as I look down at him. He is beautiful and he is sexy. He is groggy. Almost asleep. But his eyes flick to mine and I see blank speculation in them.

Confusion.

Wariness.

‘How are you?’

I smile—I hope it’s as reassuring as I intend and not maniacal as I suspect. ‘Good.’

He nods tersely, pushing up out of bed, dragging a hand through his hair as he stalks across to his wardrobe. He emerges after a moment, boxer shorts on. At least he’s not showering me away immediately.

But he will soon enough. I know Jack too well to misunderstand his mood now, and it pisses me off as much as it worries me. I don’t want a relationship, but I don’t know how we can go from white-hot sex to awkward silence in the space of minutes.

‘Do you need anything?’ His voice is husky. ‘Drink? Coffee? Shower?’

A flicker of annoyance draws my lips into a frown. ‘No, thanks.’

I stand up, feeling as though I’ve run ten marathons. My body is sore and stiff, but still throbbing with pleasures previously unknown. My dress is—where? Out in the living area?

I walk towards him slowly, and pause just in front of him. What he wants is crystal-clear; my own needs are far more difficult to interpret but I do want to interpret them.

Self-preservation draws me inwards, away from Jack before he can push me away. ‘I’m going to go.’