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“You’re hurt.”
“I’m not the one who will wake covered in bruises tomorrow.”
“Not visible ones.”
I backhand him. It sends him to the ground. As soon as my hand makes contact, I regret the decision. I’m abusing his body. He is not here to be my whipping boy, yet that’s exactly how I’m treating him. I can’t strike my father. Or mymother. The woman who made me feel so loved and then left without a trace.
I hate her for it.
My own ship mocks me with its name. I’m painting over it at the next opportunity.
Riden moves his jaw back and forth with his hand as he rises.
“You’re making me feel worse!” I shout at him. “Is that what you wanted?”
“No, I came to comfort you.”
“You’re doing one hell of a job.”
He sets his jaw now. “You’re the one making this difficult.”
I shake my head once in outrage. “I’m supposed to make it easy for you to comfort me?”
“Let me hold you.”
The words startle me so much that at first I don’t know how to answer.
Then, “No! I don’t need your damned comfort. I want to hit things and scream. I told you what you could do to help. Give me something to fight. Otherwise get out before I kill you.”
“You have more self-control than that.”
“You don’t know me.”
My anger cools ever so slightly. These quick exchanges seem to be having some effect on me. For a moment, I let myself try to imagine what it would be like to simply be held by him. What would it feel like? To be caught in an embrace that wasn’t meant to do anything but soothe?
“I’m trying to,” he says. It takes me a moment to remember what we were talking about.
A new thought strikes me. No, an embrace is too slow. It’s not what I want.
I lunge at him. I see him stiffen for the blow as he registers my movement.
But that’s not what I want, either.
I place my lips over his so quickly, I think his eyes are still open when I reach him. I can’t tell for certain; mine are already closed so I can focus better on eliciting a response from him. My fingers slide into his hair, silky smooth and wonderful, until they reach the back of his head. I put pressure there to seal him in place.
He might be strong enough to resist fighting me, but this…
He’s helpless against this.
It only takes him a second to get a hand in my hair. The other goes to the side of my face and neck so he can stroke the skin there with his fingertips. I open my mouth to draw in a breath, to draw in him. He uses it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue slides in, completely bathing me in sensation. Stars, how did I manage to avoid him for two whole months?
Time wasted.
I grab his back to pull him closer. I need every inch of him touching me now. Right now. Nothing is fast enough. It’s the most glorious feeling in the world. This right here. Not having to think. Just feel.
I pull his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his breeches. He reaches down, as though to help me take it off, then pauses.
He presses his forehead against mine, breathing so quickly, I wonder how he manages to get words out. “Wait.”
