She pulled the babydoll nightgown over her head and wrapped her hair in a towel to soak up the moisture. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed what she’d suspected. The beaded tips of her nipples poked through the fabric, announcing her nakedness beneath. The nightgown was a little more sheer than she’d expected. Maybe she should wear one of the shirts instead, or put the bra on beneath the nightgown.
No. She’d sleep more comfortably in the nightgown. All she had to do was get to the bed and pull up the covers. Thankfully, the shower had washed away the tears, and her eyes weren’t terribly red-rimmed from her bout of self-pity. More in control of her emotions, she gathered her bags and extra clothes and stepped out of the bathroom.
Crusher had pulled off the shirt he’d worn and dumped the contents of his purchases across his bed. He turned when she emerged, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. “Better?”
She nodded and fought the urge to cry all over again. She wasn’t a crier, damn it. “The bathroom’s all yours.”
His glance swept past the bags she clutched to her chest and down to take in her bare legs. Was that her imagination? Had his eyes flared at the sight of her legs?
Her pulse quickened, and she held her breath as she eased around him and backed up to the bed furthest from the door.
Crusher’s gaze followed her. As if he realized he was staring, his head jerked back to the items on the bed. He grabbed the boxer briefs, shorts and a shaving kit and dove into the bathroom.
Warmth spread through Marta. Maybe her skimpy nightgown had struck a chord with Crusher. That, along with the blazing kiss on the airplane to Mexico City, had to mean something.
But what?
She’d spent her entire adult life buried in science. She wasn’t a virgin, having had awkward sex with one of her classmates in college three times. He’d asked for her help with Calculus and repaid her mathematical knowledge with carnal knowledge. She’d gone along with him, calling it a scientific experiment—at least in her mind.
All the other students were well-versed and found sex satisfying, leading to the hypothesis that intercourse was enjoyable and had significant physical benefits. Marta wanted to know why and to prove her hypothesis. After the first time, she hadn’t seen what all the fuss was about. There was no chemical reaction. No tingling. No desire to cry out in ecstasy. Just pain and fumbling with body parts. She’d figured more experimentation might give her enough experience to draw concrete conclusions.
Apparently, the young man had found her sexual abilities sadly lacking. The third round had been his last with Marta. He’d moved on to a girl known for sleeping around with a number of the guys in his fraternity, a more experienced partner.
After graduating, she’d dated a few times, kissed a couple of men, but none of them had inspired her to jump back in bed for more awkward sex. She’d concluded that either her body wasn’t equipped with the proper genetics to enjoy intercourse, or she hadn’t met the person with the right chemistry to trigger her satisfaction.
Until Crusher.
She grimaced. Why did she think she could do it now? She knew so little about the act. A man like Crusher had to have a rich knowledge of sensual pursuits. He’d be like her experiment with dating in college and find her sadly lacking.
Marta sank deeper under the blanket, pulled the towel off her head and grabbed her hairbrush. As she worked through the tangles until all the knots were released, she chastised herself.
Who was she kidding? She couldn’t initiate intercourse. She didn’t even know how to flirt.
Now, if Crusher initiated...
Her pulse sped, and heat coiled at her core. Holy shit. This was the chemistry she’d missed in college. The adrenaline rush, the pulse-pounding reaction to a man who inspired in her...
Lust.
Marta gasped.
At that very moment of realization, and perhaps because of her audible gasp, the bathroom door sprang open, and the object of her inner turmoil and burgeoning desire stepped out wearing only gym shorts, his chest naked and sparkling with drops of water. He was rubbing his head with a towel, making his sandy blond hair stand on end. His gaze went immediately to her. “Are you okay?”
Marta’s cheeks flamed, and her mouth went dry. She swept her tongue across her lips and stared, uncontrollably. Incapable of forming a coherent vocal response, she nodded.
His glance swept the room, coming back to land on her. “I thought I heard something.” His brow dipped. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded again and then shook her head, her mind warring between her logical scientific self and this stranger within, urging her to take a step on the wild and insane side.
Crusher tossed the towel onto a chair and crossed to Marta’s bed. “What’s wrong?” He cupped her cheek in his palm. “You’re flushed. Your cheeks are warm. You could have a fever.” He started to take his hand away.
Without thinking a logical thought, Marta covered his hand with hers and pressed her cheek into his palm. Her mouth opened, and she spoke the first thing that came into her mind. “I want to have sex with you.”
Crusher froze, his eyes wide. “Say again?”
Her gaze shot to his. Had she really blurted out that she wanted to have sex with him? Desperately backpaddling, she stammered. “Did I say something?”
With a slow nod, Crusher held her gaze. His thumb brushed her cheek and moved lower to skim across her lips. His eyes followed his thumb. “You said you want to have sex with me.”
