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He frowns.
“And I remembered that I didn’t tell you and I was freaking out.” I pick up his hand and hold it in mine. “I had to warn you and coming back onto the ship was my only choice. I didn’t have your number to call,” I whisper.
“I don’t need your protection. I can handle myself.” He sighs and I can see a glimmer of forgiveness.
“I know you can.” I pause and try to sweeten the deal. “I wanted an excuse to see you.” My eyes search his.
He stares at me as the last words I said roll around in his brain.
“You wanted an excuse to see me?” He narrows his eyes. “I thought I was just the guy who kidnapped you?”
I smile softly as I gently cup his face in my hand. “Maybe not. Maybe you’re more.”
He moves close and I know I may be forgiven. “How much more?” he whispers against my lips.
I smile up at him. “Stop asking stupid questions and thank me.”
He roughly grabs my behind and kisses me, and I laugh into his lips.
“Stop doing stupid things.” He growls.
“I can’t, it comes naturally,” I reply.
He throws me onto the bed and I bounce with a laugh.
“So, you are here by choice now?” he asks darkly as he slowly undoes his belt from his pants.
Desire runs through my blood and I nod. “Aha.”
“Here for me.” He pauses and raises his brow. “By choice?”
“Yes,” I breathe as I watch his pants slowly slide down his legs.
“So, I can legally do whatever I want to do to you now.” He purrs sexily.
Shivers run down my spine. “Yes,” I whisper in anticipation. “What do you want?”
His dark eyes hold mine. “Fucking everything.”
* * *
The pager wakes us from our sleep. I glance at the clock to see it’s 4am in the morning. Stace rolls over and looks at the clock. I know he’s thinking the same thing as me.
He gets up and reads the message on his pager.
I sit up. “What does it say?”
He doesn’t answer and goes to the bathroom, flicking the light on. “What does it say?” I call after him.
“There is a problem in the engine room,” he replies dryly.
Oh no, I jump out of bed. “It’s a trap. This is it. I’m telling you, it’s a trap. This… this is what I heard them talking about,” I stammer.
“It could also be a problem in the engine room,” he replies.
“Don’t go. You can’t go.”
He zips up his pants and pulls his shirt around his shoulders. “I can handle myself.”
