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“What’s wrong, you ask, Jarrn? Did you give even a moment’s thought to how worried I was about you last night? How I wondered what happened to you when you didn’t return to our cabin?”
This?Thisis what she’s mad about? Not the kiss?
“And that woman? You couldn’t be on board this ship for one day before you find some… floozy to spend the night with?”
Floozy. My translator has no word for it. Perhaps it’s archaic. It doesn’t matter, I can glean its meaning from context.
“I didn’t spend the night with anyone.” I grip her hand and pull her to the promenade. “See that deck chair? That hard, wooden deck chair that leans a bit to the right? That’s where I spent the night. Alone. I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”
All the anger bleeds from her face and her brow lowers as she tips her head. “Wouldn’t want to see you again. Why would you think that?”
I scrub my face with my palm, but it doesn’t help me understand this conversation. “The kiss, Delia. I figured after kissing you… so passionately… in front of all those people…” I shrug my shoulders as though it might protect me from her wrath while I wait for her to tell me exactly how odious that was.
Chapter10
Delia
“That kiss,” I say. “It was amazing.”
He blinks a moment. “No, you’re mad that I kissed you, upset because this will ruin our friendship.”
I tilt my head. “Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s true.”
Grabbing his hand, I hustle him inside the ship, down a hall, and to the staff elevator way in the back.
He peppers me with questions. “Where are we going? Are you taking me somewhere where you can snarl at me without drawing attention? You hate me for kissing you, and you’re going to tell me this where others won’t see my disappointment.”
I curl my finger toward him, and he lowers his face. When I can reach, I tap his full lips. “Shhh.”
“Delia,” he growls, reeling away. “Explain.”
I keep a tight hold on his hand. We step inside the elevator, and it descends to the bowels of the ship. When the panel opens again, I half-drag him to our room.
Inside, I release him and lean against the door. “I liked your kiss.”
He shakes his head and flings up his claws. “I don’t believe it.”
In my wildest dreams, I never imagined we’d kiss. And if we did, I never expected him to think I didn’t enjoy it.
“Whose lips latched onto yours?” I ask. “Who was moaning?”
“You were voicing displeasure. I force-kissed you.” He starts pacing the room. “I assure you, it won’t–”
“Did you happen to notice I kissed you back?”
Pausing, he shoots me a frown. “No.”
“You’re stubborn. I like that in you. But right now, I want to scream.” My hands clench into fists.
He nods slowly as if what I’ve said convinces him of his assumptions, then starts stomping back and forth again. It must be a challenge to make much stomping progress in such a small room, but he finds a way. “You want to scream and rant at me for daring to take our relationship in an unexpected direction.”
“Jarrn!”
Stopping, he turns to face me.
I leap on him, grateful when he catches me. Wrapping my legs around him, I latch onto his shoulders.
