On Thin Ice (Ice 6) - Page 53

She looked up at him, trying to hide the fear that danced in the back of her eyes. She put her hand in his and rose

from the table.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

He hadn’t been in her cabin since he’d first brought her there. The bunk was small, the size of a twin bed, but it would do. It was neatly made, her extra clothes folded on a chair.

“Do you want the underwear I’m currently wearing or could I talk you into taking a fresh pair?”

“Tell you what,” he said in a deliberately relaxed voice. “Since in effect I beat the pants off you, you can keep your underwear. I’m much more interested in what’s inside.”

He saw the sudden flare of anger in her eyes. “Since when? I haven’t seen any sign of it since we’ve been on this wretched boat.”

“Ship,” he corrected her. “Have you felt neglected, sweetheart? I was giving you time to recover from my over-enthusiastic play-acting.”

“I’m not an innocent,” she said. “I understand male bodies, and despite what you say, I’m far from a virgin. As you’ve reminded me so often, it’s been three years since you’ve … since you’ve made love, and one can’t help how one’s body reacts on occasion.”

“No, one can’t, can one?” he mocked her gently. “How far?”

“I beg your pardon?”

This was ridiculous. They were standing in her cabin, when he’d much rather be horizontal. “How far from a virgin?”

“You want names, occasions, duration of relationships?” she shot back.

“I’d like to know what I’m dealing with when I get you on your back. You’re so fucking skittish I’m wondering if the Guiding Light got to you after all.”

“No.”

“Were you sexually abused as a child?”

Her face paled, but her response was immediate, and he suspected, truthful. “God, no.”

“Then what? You’ve been kidnapped, twice, you’ve fallen off a cliff, had a knife held to your throat, fought off drugged-out rapists, watched god knows how many men die, and yet you’re looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf.”

“Close enough.”

“You think I’m going to eat you, little girl?” he said softly.

“I think you’re going to … upset me.”

“Now that’s a euphemism I’ve never heard before. Look at it this way – you came down to Callivera to minister to the needy and the disadvantaged. Consider this an act of charity.”

“You’re not disadvantaged.”

“Three years.” This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. He wanted her to loosen up, but she was just getting tighter and tighter. “Just answer me one question, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You will?” He heard the relief in her voice. Did he also hear disappointment?

“This thing between us. This pull. Is it my imagination?”

She looked at him and lied. Flat out lied. “Yes.”

He moved past her, opened the door, and walked out.

The night air was cool on his heated skin, and he stood on the deserted deck, staring out at the inky-black ocean. He’d had enough. He wanted to get roaring, stinking drunk, and then pass out for the rest of the voyage rather than breathe in the infuriatingly tantalizing scent of Sister Beth, the purported non-virgin of the year. There were a number of problems with that plan. First, he had no alcohol. Second, even if he did he was incapable of passing out, which he figured was his father’s legacy to him. He knew how to drink, hard, and he knew how to pass it by without a second thought. He just didn’t know how to pass out. Third, he was sharing his room with a teenage boy, rendering dedicated drunkenness difficult to achieve.

As for Sister Beth … he’d never forced a woman in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. But one thing was abundantly clear. He couldn’t be around her, not right now, without putting his hands on her. He’d keep his distance, and once they got to Spain he’d put her on a plane and out of his life.

Tags: Anne Stuart Ice Romance
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