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A kaleidoscope of red and orange hues painted the sky where the sun dipped beneath a silhouette of palm trees and colourful waterfront shacks on the nearby beach.
She’d slept the whole day away. Her body felt limber and alive, well-rested and rejuvenated... Unfortunately that wasn’t doing anything for her peace of mind as snatches of conversation from the hour before dawn, when Dane had come to relieve her on deck after her shattering stint at the helm, made her heart pummel her chest and her face burn with the heat of a thousand suns.
Had she actually begged him to give her an orgasm?
Yup, she was pretty sure she had.
And had she blurted out that he’d been the only man she’d ever slept with?
Way to go, Xanthe.
How exactly did she come back from that with any dignity? Especially as she could still feel the phantom stroke of his tongue on her clitoris?
He stopped what he was doing with the rigging and strolled across the deck towards her.
The fluid gait, sure-footed and purposeful and naturally predatory, put all her senses on high alert and turned the tingle in her clitoris to a definite hum.
‘Yeah, the marina is on Paradise Island,’ he said as he approached, his deep voice reverberating through her sternum. ‘But we’re anchored here till morning. It’s too dangerous to try docking after sunset.’
The blush became radioactive as he studied her face.
‘You slept okay?’
‘Yes... Thank you.’ Like the dead, for twelve solid hours.
The memory of him washing her hair, rubbing her naked skin with a towel and then blasting away all her other aches and pains made her heart jam her larynx.
‘You’re welcome.’ His lips kicked up on one side, the sensual curve making the pit of her stomach sink into the toes of her deck shoes. ‘Thanks for taking such good care of The Sea Witch,’ he murmured.
Her knees trembled, her heart swelling painfully in her throat at the thought of how carefully he’d taken care of her.
Who was she kidding? This wasn’t just about sex—not any more. Or at least not for her. The fear she thought she’d ridden into the dust kicked back up under her breastbone. She was falling for him again. And she didn’t seem to be able to stop herself.
His gaze glided over the blush now setting fire to her cheeks.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked.
She cleared her throat.
Backing down had never been the answer with Dane—she of all people ought to know that by now. Being coy or embarrassed now would be suicidal.
He’d left her feeling fragile and vulnerable and scared. Which almost certainly hadn’t been his intention, because having her love him had never been part of Dane’s agenda. She had to turn this around, make it clear that sex was the only thing they still shared... Or he’d know exactly how much last night had meant to her.
‘Actually there is, and it has to do with your extremely altruistic use of your superpower,’ she said, cutting straight to the chase.
His eyebrows hiked up his forehead.
‘And how is that a problem?’ he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. The bite of sarcasm was unmistakable.
She’d annoyed him. This was good.
‘Not a problem, exactly,’ she said—as if she could dispute that, when he’d turned her into a quivering mess who had screamed his name out at top volume. ‘But I would have been fine without it. I didn’t need a pity orgasm.’
* * *
‘A... A pity what?’ Dane choked on the words as the tension in his gut gripped the base of his spine and turned his insides into a throbbing knot of need. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I didn’t need you to take pity on me. When I said I wanted to make love to you, I planned to hold up my end of the bargain.’
