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He winced. “Rachel, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I—”
She broke in. “I know. I understand. I put you in a very awkward position, and I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so colossally stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She’d overheard the guys at work talking about how great it would be to come home and find a beautiful woman in bed and she took a risk to give him that. It would’ve been fine, except that she was expecting more than he could offer in return. He wanted to explain, but she was determined to get through her spiel.
“Anyway, I want you to know that you…you’re not lousy in bed. That’s a very mean-spirited thing to say to a man.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” He hated that she was. It made him feel worse. But she had such an exacting conscience. She couldn’t stand the thought that she might’ve hurt his feelings or damaged his ego when she was the one who’d instigated everything in the first place.
“Let me finish,” she said. “You had every right to kick me out, and you should have.”
She’d spoken with enough chagrin to tell him that she wished he’d done it. But he’d tried. She’d be surprised to learn he hadn’t been able to refuse her, that he’d wanted her too badly.
“I was…upset when we left Paradise,” she went on. “Upset with myself and not you. And that’s why I lashed out.” Her eyes finally met his again; he could see the reflection of the moonlight in them. “But you also need to understand that I’m completely over you, so you don’t have to be afraid that I might…misinterpret what you say or do, okay? I won’t put you in another terrible situation.”
That night at his condo had been anything but terrible. At least, until the sun rose and they’d had to confront reality—and each other. “Rachel—”
“Please, I don’t want you to say anything. I…I need you to trust me the same way you’d trust anyone else at Department 6.” Her voice dropped. “Trust me to do my job.”
He stepped toward her, but she backed away, keeping the same amount of space between them. “Can you do that?”
Shit. She had everything all wrong, had no idea how much he’d enjoyed the night they were together, how many times he’d replayed it since. But what good would it do to explain? What he had to say wouldn’t change the bottom line. “Sure, I can do that.”
She managed a smile. “Great. I appreciate it. And now that I’ve apologized, I’d be really happy if we could forget my little blunder.” Her expression turned sheepish. “Er, huge blunder.”
He couldn’t forget. He’d tried. “No problem.”
“Great,” she said again. “You haven’t told any of the guys, have you?”
The intensity of her regret bothered him. “Come on, I’m not like that.”
She sighed in relief. “We’re good to go, then. It’s in the past, I’ve finally apologized and now we can both forget.”
“Sure.”
“Shall we start over? Be friends?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. She was saying all the right things but, damn, he liked it better when she was yelling that he was lousy in bed. At least then he knew she was as rattled by whatever was going on between them as he was. “Of course.”
“Thanks.” She stuck out her hand to shake on it, but the second he clasped her fingers he felt as if he couldn’t let go. Maybe it was those big eyes of hers. Or that wide, expressive mouth. It could even be her chest, which was rising and falling too rapidly to make him believe he was the only one whose heart was beating in his throat.
“Rachel?”
Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. “Hmm?”
“You talk too much,” he said. Then he kissed her. It made no sense. He was doing the exact opposite of what he should be doing, especially now that they’d agreed to start over, but sometimes he couldn’t think straight when he was around her.
Her mouth was as pliable and warm as he remembered it. She tasted like the wine she’d drunk at the party. He slid his thumbs under the flimsy lace of her panties as he brought her hard against him.
When she molded to him, and her tongue met his, he moaned. He thought he was home free. But then she stiffened as if she suddenly realized what she was doing and pushed him away.
“Ha, ha. That was…that was a clever test,” she said with a breathless laugh and fled the kitchen.
“I think it would be a mistake.”
Ethan scowled at Bartholomew. They were in his room, where they could speak freely. But it wasn’t often that Bart disagreed with him so strenuously. “Why? You had no argument with what I wanted before.”
“I had the chance to observe her husband tonight.”
Ethan pulled off his jalabiya and gave it to Bart, who turned to hang it up for him. He handed over the less formal robe Ethan wore when lounging in his rooms, but Ethan tossed it aside. He liked being naked, liked knowing how it affected Bart. “And?”
Bartholomew’s eyes swept over him, his appreciation obvious and far more gratifying than it should’ve been. “He’ll never go along with it.”
“So?” Ethan shrugged. “Who is he to stand in my way?”
“I’m afraid he’s more formidable than you think.”
Letting Bart look his fill, Ethan struck a provocative pose. He wanted another of Bart’s massages. Bart used to offer them all the time, but lately it’d been Ethan who instigated the contact. He didn’t want to be the seeker tonight. “He’s got a nice physique. But that doesn’t mean he’s got a brain.”
Bart seemed transfixed. It was the first time Ethan had ever been so open with him, and he was definitely taking note. “No, he’s intelligent. And more determined than a lot of men.” He stepped forward as if drawn by an external force. “Damn, I love you.”
The words slipped over Ethan like a silken sheet, confirming what he’d long suspected. And, oddly enough, he didn’t mind hearing it as much as he’d always told himself he would. On the contrary, he found Bart’s passion reassuring, even thrilling. Of all the Spiritual Guides, he had the most respect for Bartholomew. “I don’t plan to challenge him,” he said, ignoring the personal declaration.
Bart moved to the nightstand, where he withdrew the massage oil just as Ethan had hoped he would. They were inching closer to what had been coming for months, maybe since they’d met. “Naming his wife the Vessel, the bride of the whole church, will challenge him, make no mistake.”
