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What would she do if, right now, he pressed her against that wall, slid his fingers into her waistband and indulged in all that soft, wet heat that was, even now, making him hard, aching, in a way that no one else had ever made him feel?
God, how he wanted to.
Clenching his jaw until it was locked so tight that it was actually painful, Nikhil glowered at some abstract point on the metal doors in front of him. He was grateful when the elevator drew to a halt and the doors finally opened, finally releasing him from the temptations of that enclosed space.
Marching down the corridor to his office, he didn’t even stop to see if Isla was following. Opening the door, he held it open and wordlessly ushered her inside.
‘Like I said,’ she began, even before the door had closed behind them or he’d made his way around the other side—the safe side—of his desk, ‘I didn’t ask for this transfer, but what was I supposed to say when they contacted me? No, sorry, I can’t. I just slept with the ship’s First Officer, and he won’t like it?’
‘So you did realise that I wouldn’t welcome your arrival?’ he managed curtly, wondering why the words that were coming out of his mouth sounded so awkward. So hollow.
‘No, actually, I didn’t consider you at all.’
She met his eyes for a brief moment, then let them slide away. She was lying; they both knew it. Although why it should make him feel so victorious was a different matter.
‘Then now is the time to start.’
‘I’m not quitting.’ Her head snapped up in an instant.
‘I’m not asking you to. I’m well aware it was a Head Office decision.’
‘Really? Because you’re acting like I’m at least partly to blame.’ She sighed, raking her hand through her hair.
He remembered too clearly how soft it felt. That vaguely coconut scent. His traitorous body twitched in response, but he quashed it furiously.
Then...what?
‘We can’t change what happened,’ he said grimly, making himself sit down behind the desk, and gesturing for Isla to do the same. ‘But I want to establish the rules from here on in.’
For himself, as much as for her. Since the sight of her standing there, her uniform lovingly fitting her curves—too pristine and perfect—was making him think of all kinds of ways to sully it.
He felt like some sex-crazed kid. Worse, he kind of liked this new sensation.
‘I told you that I don’t do relationships.’ He wasn’t sure if he was reminding Isla or himself. He’d never had to remind himself of anything like that before.
‘So I hear.’ Her eyes narrowed at him, too sharply for Nikhil’s liking. ‘You like to keep yourself single and available.’
It was about as far from the truth as it was possible to get. And yet, as reasons went, why not go with it? It would be more likely to put her off than anything else, and Lord knew he needed help to stay away from this woman.
There had been no reason for him to speak to her at all, and yet he’d found himself in that bar, having sought her out.
For what, exactly?
‘I never promised you exclusivity, Isla,’ he bit out, though every word tasted bitter in his mouth.
Did they sound as hollow as they f
elt?
‘No. And I don’t recall asking for it, now,’ she pointed out evenly.
He might have expected her to appear more manipulative. They usually were, which was why he generally liked to be able to walk away. Only right now he seemed to be the one having the most trouble with that concept. If he’d been a lesser man it might have dented his ego.
What the hell was wrong with him?
‘You think you’re the only one? That you’re somehow special? That we’re going to pick up where we left off now we’re working on the same ship together?’
He’d intended the words to score a hit, but when she blanched he actually felt it like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to apologise, but something stopped him.
