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Dane closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, he looks directly into mine—no deflection and no turning away. "I swear I've never lied to you. I simply haven't told you the whole truth. That's all. And I can't. Not right now, but I promise I will later."
"Why can't you tell me? I don't understand what could be so bad."
"It's nothing bad. It's just…timing. The timing isn't right. I can't tell you anything else. Would you please trust me?"
I study his face, my mind whirling. "I'll think about it."
"I'll take that for now." Dane glances over his shoulder at the bar. "I have to go back."
I nod, unsure what else to say.
I chew on more Twizzlers as I watch him. He makes several drinks and sets them on the bar while Mitre puts them on his tray. Dane points to me, and I notice one of the glasses is topped with whipped cream. I assume it's my Irish coffee, which is confirmed when Mitre brings it to me. I lean back and take a sip, warmed by the whiskey, as I mull over what Dane said.
Do I trust him? I want to, but should I? And why can't he tell me everything? Maybe he is some criminal hiding out on the ship and can't tell me anything until he's safe. I scoff at the craziness of that theory. After all, he did say the real story wasn't bad. But that thought takes me full circle to whether I trust him, and I'm no closer to an answer than before.
Returning to my cabin, I shower and slip into my robe. I'm about to turn the television on when I hear a knock. Dropping the remote control on the bed, I go to the door and open it.
Dane stands there with a drink in his hand.
"I brought you another Irish coffee. And to ask if…maybe…you still want me."
"You heard me?" I gasp, my cheeks feeling like they're on fire.
"I did." His voice is silky and smooth and so thoroughly enticing.
My resolve evaporates. I melt and back away.
Dane enters and quietly shuts the door. He sets my coffee on the dresser. Then he reaches for me.
I look up, then close my eyes as he leans down and kisses my forehead. His arms encircle me in a tender embrace, and I lay my head on his shoulder, comforted by his scent of leather and spice.
"I want to kiss you, Britt. May I?"
I lift my head, giving him the answer he needs. His lips are soft and tender, and I wrap my arms around his neck.
He pulls away. "I'm sorry about everything. I didn't mean to act like a jerk or hurt you."
"I know that now. Can you stay?"
"No, but I wish I could. The concert group will return soon, and some will want a nightcap before turning in. I'm only on a break right now. I told Luis I'd be back in fifteen minutes."
"Then I'll take fifteen minutes if that's all I get."
Dane leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. Then his lips are on mine, tasting, teasing, his tongue searching.
I can feel the ache, the tightness in my body growing. I want Dane to touch me and do the things he did when we spent the night together in Budapest.
He slides his hands underneath my robe, caressing my breasts. "Damn, I've missed touching you, Britt," he whispers, his mouth at my ear.
"I know. I've missed you."
Dane growls. His hand is warm as it slides between my legs, urging me to spread them. His finger slides across my clit.
I moan, unable to help it. "God, how I want to feel you inside me."
"Christ, I want you. I want to feel you wrapped around my cock." Dane's breath is heavy, his voice deep. He suddenly frowns. "Damn, Britt. I'm sorry. I don't have a condom or the time."
"Just play with me, please. I want to come."
