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Water ran in the bathroom, filling the silence her mind offered up in response to the question. Sadly, solutions didn’t flow as readily as Maui tap water. By the time he’d shut off the faucet, all she’d come up with amounted to stubborn denial. Maybe you don’t have to walk away? Maybe you can ask if he’d be open to more?
Before she could even piece together a picture of what “more” looked like, footsteps approached. Next thing she knew, her world spun. The bed creaked, and she landed on his lap, arms around his neck to anchor herself, head nestled against one strong shoulder, her backside suspended between his powerful thighs. She drew the corners of her blanket of contentment closer and snuggled in, only to bolt upright an instant later when something warm and wet pressed against one of those raw, tingling places she’d taken stock of earlier.
“Whoa…what—?”
He cupped her head and guided it to back to his shoulder. “Can’t have you sitting at dinner cursing my name.”
Her face flamed. Thankfully she doubted he’d see it. The sun had set, leaving them doused in blue-tinged shadows beyond the halo of light from the bathroom. She sat still while he did his caretaker thing with the washcloth, but inside, she scrambled for a little composure. “Surely by now you’ve figured out I’m not fragile.”
She was, though, when it came to him. She was damn near breaking.
“So noted.” The hand at her head wandered down her leg and tugged one of her shoes off. It hit the rug with a thud. “We’ll skip the foot rub.” The other shoe followed, and despite what he said, he squeezed her tortured instep until she sighed.
But her blanket of contentment slid out of reach. Words she hadn’t organized crowded her throat and wouldn’t be held back. She turned in his arms until she straddled his lap, wound her arms around his neck, hooked her feet around his calves, and hugged him so fiercely his heartbeat echoed in her chest. “Rider…” Jesus, where to start?
Start with him. Tell him the things you want him to know regardless of what happens between the two of you.
The washcloth landed on the floor, and he began stroking his hands up and down her back, as if he realized whatever she wanted to say right now had the potential to cause her more discomfort than anything they’d done tonight.
“What’s on your mind, princess?”
“You.” She cupped his cheeks and held his dark gaze. “At the beginning of this week you told me something—something I agreed with, at the time.”
“That you could count on me to give you a soul-deep, hurts-so-good, cry-for-mercy orgasm?”
The tilt of his lips was its own distraction, but she couldn’t let him pull her off course. “You said you didn’t want to get blinded by your emotions. I understood. At least I thought I did. I’ve been blindsided a time or two as well, in my own pathetic and not terribly tragic way, and walked away wondering if I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I’d just paid more attention.”
The smile stayed in place, but something guarded came into his eyes. “We’re two of a kind, huh?”
She shook her head, a little frustrated with herself, her inability to say what she needed to say concisely. “No. We’re not. I mean, the thing is, we all have our blind spots, but yours is not what you think it is. Your blind spot is you don’t see your strengths.”
“I know my strengths, Czarina.” His expression shuttered. “You don’t have to spell them out for me.”
“If you think I’m talking about sex, you’re selling yourself short. I’m talking about how when you’re with me, you notice everything. You notice if I fake an orgasm, but it’s not just about the orgasms,” she quickly added. “You know when my family is stressing me out. They’ve known me all my life and they don’t even pick up on that.”
She paused a moment to kiss the small frown from his lips. “I guess what I’m saying is, you’re far from blind. I know, because you see me, and you do it so instinctively you don’t even give yourself credit for having the capacity.”
He stared at her while her heart thundered in her chest. One beat. Two. On the third he offered her a slight smile. “You’re the second person in twenty-four hours to tell me I sell myself short.”
“Well, apparently I’m not the only one who thought you needed to hear it.” She forced herself to let go of him and get to her feet. “Could be a sign, huh?” And her cue to back off. It was one thing to tell him she believed he was capable of more than he thought he had to give, but following that up with a request for more changed this from something for him, to something for her. It opened up a topic they didn’t really have time to get into right now, and…well…frankly, it put him on the spot. Some things had to be offered. “I have to get ready.”
He stood as well.
Shit, she sounded like she was booting him out the door. “You don’t have to leave. Please. Take your time. I just can’t, because…my father…”
“I know. I need to get going.”
While she was kicking herself for playing this wrong, he took her hand. “You’re free tomorrow night?”
Her belly gave a silly flutter. Arguably, tomorrow was already part of their deal, but suddenly it sounded like more. “Yes.”
“Good.” He leaned in and gave her a slow, lingering kiss. “Pick you up at six thirty?”
“I’ll be ready. See you then.” She started to take a step back, but he held on to her. His eyes scanned her face, as if looking for something. He brushed her hair back from her forehead and then released her. She gave him what felt like a thin smile and turned toward the bathroom.
When she emerged ten minutes later he was gone, but she found a red hibiscus blossom on the dresser, next to a folded slip of St. Sebastian stationery. She flipped it open and read the lines.
NASA kicked me off the space station. I hear Siberia is beautiful this time of year. Maybe you could show me around?
