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I almost choke at the double entendre. Christ. I really need to get a grip.
Yeah, you do.
Cursing under my breath, I stalk up to the crew’s section and inform Marisa that Ava and I are both turning in, so not to disturb us until it’s time for breakfast service. Then I pop the buttons on my shirt and toe off my shoes. I toss my clothes messily onto one of the chairs, which ishighlyuncharacteristic. But I want to be in bed before Ava gets back so I can avoid seeing her wriggling those perfect, ample hips as she walks out of the bathroom.
Part of me wants to call her bluff. I’m not one for losing at games, and I certainly don’t enjoy letting others get the upper hand. If Ava wants to play with fire, then I’ll show her that I don’t burn.
Not for anyone.
I slip into bed and a second later the cabin becomes dim as Marisa turns the lights to sleep mode. Only the safety lights along the walkway are lit, which is a good thing. It means I don’t see Ava in great detail when she climbs into bed beside me. I only feel the shift of the bed and the rustle of the sheets. I smell the sweet vanilla on her skin and feel the gentle brush of her hair as she gets comfortable.
But my head is filled with flickering images of her standing at the top of my staircase, watching me. It’s filled with the way her body shuddered and trembled as she touched herself. It’s filled with the reflection of her in my bedroom window, the perfect O her lips made as she sought release by her own hand.
My cock is so hard I’m sure I’m tenting the blankets.
I force myself to stare into the darkness, lying still. Keeping my distance. This whole situation is outside the realms of how I view sex—which is for recreation. No emotions. No future. But I can’t draw that neat little line in the sand with Ava, because we’re going to be together for a while.
Forced proximity. Right now it feels like a challenge of willpower.
“Are you not attracted to me?” Ava asks in the darkness.
I growl. She’s determined to push me, this woman. “What kind of a question is that?”
“A genuine one.”
“Do you think what happened last night...” I shake my head. “Yes, I’m attracted to you.”
While I don’t believe that anyone has to stick to a “type,” there are certainly common attributes in the women I’m attracted to—I like a woman with a curvier figure. I like a woman who has something to say and speaks her mind. I like a woman who’s herself. Some of the women I’ve been with in the past seemed to change from one day to the next, like chameleons always trying to be what they think others want. I prefer to know someone honestly, whether it’s for a romantic dalliance or something platonic. I prefer to know the real them, so I knowexactlywhom I’m dealing with.
Unfortunately, that becomes less common the older I get.
“I’m attracted to you, too,” she says, though I don’t need the confirmation. I could see it in her eyes the night we met.
Under the sheets, I feel something brush the back of my hand. It’s her knuckles, her fingers, searching mine out.
“I keep thinking about last night,” she says and I press my head back against the pillow, wanting to groan in pent-up sexual frustration. “About...”
“What?” I snap.
She sucks in a breath. “About how I wish you hadn’t ordered me away afterward.”
“And what would you have preferred, Ava?” I’ve been trying to be a gentleman, but she’s making it very fucking hard to keep my wits about me.
“I would have preferred for you to come up behind me,” she says. “I would have preferred for you to put your hands between my legs and feel for yourself how wet I was.”
I reach down and squeeze myself under the covers. “You were the one who didn’t want this arrangement to include sex.”
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind. You’re...” The bed shifts as she turns. My eyes are adjusting to the dark and I can tell she’s facing me. “I want to explore this attraction between us.”
What if it feels far too risky to sleep with Ava and then continue being around her? What if it feels way too risky because she speaks to me on some level that goes beyond sexual? Beyond the lines I draw carefully around myself so I have complete control over my life?
“If I touch you now and you’re not hard as a rock, then I’ll leave it be,” she says softly.
Check fucking mate.
I feel her warm breath puff over my skin and the subtle movement of her hand beneath the sheets. She’s getting closer to me. I feel the brush of her fingertips at my thigh, then up and over. Inching closer.
Closer.
