feminine than
the other cabins he’d noted when he searched.
“Can I go into the bathroom to change?” she asked stiffly
from behind him.
He had no idea what the layout of the can was and he didn’t
want to worry about casing it first just to make sure that there wasn’t a
porthole she could fit herself through. “Just put the dry clothes on. I can’t
see out of the back of my head. Don’t worry about it.”
A rustle of clothes accompanied his refusal and when he
heard nothing further, he turned back around. She was dressed in cargo shorts
that went to her knees and an oversized tee shirt so big she probably normally
slept in it. She had scraped her hair back into a tight ponytail as well,
undoubtedly in service to this notion that she was making herself unappealing
to him. It didn’t work. She still looked cute.
And he still wanted to fuck her. With a bed in such
proximity right there, of course he did.
But he wasn’t going to. How to convince her of that? Without
letting the others know. There would be no explaining tangling over her with
Gunderson and then not sleeping with her.
God, this was so a complication he didn’t need.
Pretty soon, the agents on The Victory would be picking up the
stragglers in the lifeboat and trying to figure out why he had let this whole
mission go so off course after a year under deep cover. He had to figure out
how to salvage this mess, and one doe-eyed girl could not get in his way.
First things first, though. She had her arms crossed over
her chest and was holding herself in such a brittle way she looked as if she
might snap with the tension of it.
He had to let her know he was on her side.
Without letting her know he was on her side, of course.
He tried the obvious, which happened to be true. “Look, I
don’t get off on a girl being scared.”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she warned.
It was impossible not to crack a slight smile at that. The
odds were so far stacked against her, given their relative sizes and strengths
and her situation, at least as far as she knew, and she was still coming out
slugging. It was cute in a kittenish kind of way.
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t intend to sleep with you.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
There was no other way than to be straightforward with
her—relatively straightforward anyway. “But I want the others to think we are.
That’s the only way I can keep them away from you. If they think I’ve claimed
you and will kill anyone who touches you.”
“You’ve already done that. Killed someone.”
He smiled. “So my credibility is pretty good at this point.”
She stared back stone faced.
He supposed he couldn’t expect her to feel as little empathy
for that psychopath Gunderson as he did. He should show some remorse for
sending another man to a watery grave, if for no other reason than to reassure
her he was human.
But unfortunately, he couldn’t quite summon up any. He
wasn’t that good an actor. Gunderson had deserved to die, long ago, and he was
just sorry if in giving him his just deserts sooner than planned he had screwed
up the mission.
“So anyway, as far as the rest of the crew is concerned, it
would help if it looked like you’d made your peace with the idea that you’re my
exclusive property.”
Her lips pursed. She was probably suppressing her natural
twenty-first-century-woman objection to the notion of being any man’s property.
Not to mention making peace with the concept of sleeping with her kidnapper.
“So I need to, ah, touch you when they’re around. As if I’m,
er…”
“I get the idea. Why?”
Again with the suspicious look, specifically at the damned
erection he couldn’t seem to lose right now, try as he might.
“I told you. To reinforce the idea that you’re mine.”
“I know that. But why the charade? Why are you supposedly
leaving me alone? Are you gay?” she asked, as if there was some kind of version
of gay that contemplated getting a hard-on with
the other cabins he’d noted when he searched.
“Can I go into the bathroom to change?” she asked stiffly
from behind him.
He had no idea what the layout of the can was and he didn’t
want to worry about casing it first just to make sure that there wasn’t a
porthole she could fit herself through. “Just put the dry clothes on. I can’t
see out of the back of my head. Don’t worry about it.”
A rustle of clothes accompanied his refusal and when he
heard nothing further, he turned back around. She was dressed in cargo shorts
that went to her knees and an oversized tee shirt so big she probably normally
slept in it. She had scraped her hair back into a tight ponytail as well,
undoubtedly in service to this notion that she was making herself unappealing
to him. It didn’t work. She still looked cute.
And he still wanted to fuck her. With a bed in such
proximity right there, of course he did.
But he wasn’t going to. How to convince her of that? Without
letting the others know. There would be no explaining tangling over her with
Gunderson and then not sleeping with her.
God, this was so a complication he didn’t need.
Pretty soon, the agents on The Victory would be picking up the
stragglers in the lifeboat and trying to figure out why he had let this whole
mission go so off course after a year under deep cover. He had to figure out
how to salvage this mess, and one doe-eyed girl could not get in his way.
First things first, though. She had her arms crossed over
her chest and was holding herself in such a brittle way she looked as if she
might snap with the tension of it.
He had to let her know he was on her side.
Without letting her know he was on her side, of course.
He tried the obvious, which happened to be true. “Look, I
don’t get off on a girl being scared.”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she warned.
It was impossible not to crack a slight smile at that. The
odds were so far stacked against her, given their relative sizes and strengths
and her situation, at least as far as she knew, and she was still coming out
slugging. It was cute in a kittenish kind of way.
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t intend to sleep with you.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
There was no other way than to be straightforward with
her—relatively straightforward anyway. “But I want the others to think we are.
That’s the only way I can keep them away from you. If they think I’ve claimed
you and will kill anyone who touches you.”
“You’ve already done that. Killed someone.”
He smiled. “So my credibility is pretty good at this point.”
She stared back stone faced.
He supposed he couldn’t expect her to feel as little empathy
for that psychopath Gunderson as he did. He should show some remorse for
sending another man to a watery grave, if for no other reason than to reassure
her he was human.
But unfortunately, he couldn’t quite summon up any. He
wasn’t that good an actor. Gunderson had deserved to die, long ago, and he was
just sorry if in giving him his just deserts sooner than planned he had screwed
up the mission.
“So anyway, as far as the rest of the crew is concerned, it
would help if it looked like you’d made your peace with the idea that you’re my
exclusive property.”
Her lips pursed. She was probably suppressing her natural
twenty-first-century-woman objection to the notion of being any man’s property.
Not to mention making peace with the concept of sleeping with her kidnapper.
“So I need to, ah, touch you when they’re around. As if I’m,
er…”
“I get the idea. Why?”
Again with the suspicious look, specifically at the damned
erection he couldn’t seem to lose right now, try as he might.
“I told you. To reinforce the idea that you’re mine.”
“I know that. But why the charade? Why are you supposedly
leaving me alone? Are you gay?” she asked, as if there was some kind of version
of gay that contemplated getting a hard-on with
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