He breathed in the fresh salt air, trying to relax his shoulders. His entire body felt wound as tightly as a clock spring, and he knew if anyone made the mistake of coming up to him he’d either snap his head off or hit him. No one would make the mistake of approaching him. People steered clear of him when he was in this kind of mood, instinctively recognizing danger. He could clear a sidewalk or a room when he was like this.
He lifted his head, staring into the bleak night. How far was Spain? One day away? Two? He’d waited as long as he could, and he knew why. He didn’t want the temptation of having too much time with her. One night, two at the most, and then adios.
Served him right. In the end it was for the best – he was going to get through life very well without ever having a taste of Sister Beth. After all, the most tempting things were usually the most dangerous. At this point he could dump her and forget her, quite easily, thank you very much. After sex it might be harder to walk away.
What would she do if he stormed back down the gangway, shoved open her door and took her? He’d be like his da, without the hitting. No, she was going to have to accept that she wanted it too. At this point he was done asking. She would have to come to him, and that wasn’t going to happen.
He took in another deep breath. He was calm now. No longer shaking with frustration. He was under control. He turned, and slammed his fist into the bulkhead, hard.
He looked down. He hadn’t broken anything, but the skin had split across his knuckles and he was bleeding. And an idiot.
And then he saw her, standing still and quiet in the moonlight, and as swiftly as it had come the rage left him.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was low, husky.
He considered it. “Being a bloody fool.”
“I should bandage that.”
“No.” He didn’t want to look at her, all silver in the moonlight. “You’ve done enough.”
“I haven’t even checked your knife wound.”
“It’s fine. Go back to bed.”
“Your hand is bleeding.”
He wheeled around, the anger rising again. “For fuck’s sake leave me alone! I’ve had as much of you tonight as I can take.”
She didn’t flinch from his anger. “I thought you wanted more,” she said. She crossed the few feet of the deck, put her cool hand on the side of his neck, and kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss. And then she turned and walked away.
Beth could barely breathe. She had sat in her cabin, telling herself she’d done the right thing, she was glad he’d left, she didn’t want or need what little he could give her. She didn’t need anything. She would make it even. She would give him the money, all the money. She could go out and buy some silly bra and panties and send them to him, gift-wrapped, and he’d laugh and think of her with less anger.
She could do it. She could hide. She was afraid of him, afraid of his big, strong body, afraid of his hands on her, afraid of losing herself so completely she’d never come back. She’d learned early on that the world took away the things, the people that she cared about. She was terrified to risk it again.
But what was the risk? He would go anyway. He wasn’t offering her a relationship, he told her. Just the best sex of her life. Wasn’t it past time she experienced it?
She knew he hadn’t gone back to his cabin, but the dining hall was empty. Which left the deck. She’d climbed up, into the cool night air, and seen him smash his fist into the iron bulk-head, and she almost turned and ran from the ever-present violence that was a part of him. But he’d seen her, and his expression had been unpromising.
I can do this, she told herself, hoping he wouldn’t see how nervous she was. “I thought you wanted more,” she said. And she put her mouth against his, a soft, trembling kiss, feeling the hard line of his lips, before walking away.
He caught up with her outside her doorway, when she almost gave up. He said nothing, simply pulled her into his arms, against his strong, hard body, and his hand slid beneath her hair, tilting her face up to his. “No more running away?” His voice was rough.
His eyes glittered down into hers, and if she wanted tenderness it wasn’t there. Simply a dark, naked heat sparking between them.
“No more running away,” she said.
His kiss was far different from hers. He used his tongue, kissing her hard, and she felt her initial panic begin, and then fade. He wouldn’t hurt her, she understood that instinctively. She let herself relax into his kiss, and it softened, so that he was exploring her mouth, with slow, sensuous need, and her own need flared. He reached behind her and opened the door to her cabin, and then he broke his possessive kiss to lift her in his arms, carrying her into the cabin and kicking the door shut behind him.
He set her down on the bunk. She’d turned off the light when she’d left to follow him, an ingrained habit, and he didn’t bother to switch it on. The small cabin was lit by moonlight and the reflection of the ship’s lights, and it was a place of shifting shadows. She liked the shadows. She wanted to hide from him, pretend she was somewhere else, pretend…
“Don’t do that,” he said, pushing the cotton shirt off her shoulders.
“Do what?” She shivered at the touch of his hard hands against her skin. She was hot, she was cold, and he tugged at the hem of her tank top.
“You said you wouldn’t run away. That means you look at me, acknowledge me, not pretend you’re in some fairy tale. I’m no magic prince who’s going to wake you with a goddamned kiss.”
She didn’t even want to consider how he knew what she was thinking. He knew her too well, only one of the many scary things about him. He stripped the shirt over her head, and she was wearing nothing but the baggy jeans. She instinctively tried to cover her breasts, but he caught her wrists and held them down on the bed, leaning over her.