Burn (Page 62)

True desperation made her push frantically at his shoulder. Oh, God, he’d jostled her around and – "I’m going to pee on you!" she cried frantically.

He froze for a second, then said in a musing tone, "I don’t think I’ve ever been threatened with that before."

"It isn’t a threat!" She pushed again. "Let me up!"

Finally he seemed to realize she wasn’t joking, and he practically vaulted off her to stand beside the bed, which of course pulled her with him. Gritting her teeth, she fought for control. "Stop bouncing me, you moron, and unlock these cuffs!"

Quickly he turned on the lamp and unlocked the cuffs. As soon as she was free, she rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door. She barely made it, as she was sure he was aware because he’d probably followed her and was waiting just outside the door.

A few minutes later, having thought the situation over, she shoved the door open and barreled out, fire in her eyes. As she’d expected, he was standing right there, and she plowed into him before he could do more than get his hands up to catch her around the waist. She dipped her shoulder and drove it into his mid-section, not that she had to dip it very far, and not that it did a lot of good, but at least he fell back a step before catching his balance.

"It’s all your fault!" she said furiously, so angry and embarrassed she was almost jumping up and down. "I didn’t want anything to drink, but no, you thought I needed a teeter-totter to make things look good, so of course I had to pee! Then you handcuffed me so I couldn’t get to the bathroom. I swear, if you ever do that to me again, I’m just going to pee on you as soon as I wake up and save myself the wear and tear."

A slow smile began to curve his mouth.

"Don’t laugh," she warned him, tucking her chin and clenching her fist. "Don’t you dare laugh."

He reached out and caught her fist before she could swing it, and, damn him, snapped those damned cuffs around her wrist again. Seething, she let him lead her back to bed. If he made a joke about it, she’d kill him with her bare hands.

He didn’t stop smiling, but at least he had sense enough not to say anything. She crawled into bed and he flipped the covers off the floor where she could reach them. He turned out the lamp and got back into bed beside her. They were both settled before he asked, "Why didn’t you just wake me?" Maybe it took that long before he could get his voice under control.

"Because a grown woman shouldn’t have to ask permission to go to the bathroom," she shot back. She wasn’t anywhere near being settled down, and the way she felt now, a couple of months would come and go before her temper cooled.

"Under these circumstances, for now, the grown woman most certainly does." Exasperation crept into his tone. "Did you really think you could shake the bed, crawl on top of me, and steal the key without waking me up? Just shaking my shoulder would have been a lot faster, and a lot less, uh, dangerous."

"I didn’t want to touch you. Jackass."

"You ended up touching me a lot, so I’d say your plan didn’t work."

She didn’t want to remember those moments when he’d crushed her into the mattress, his heavy, mostly naked body on hers in a perfect sexual position. Her legs had even been spread, and for a few heart-stopping seconds the hard bulge of his penis had pushed against his groin.

Did it say something about him that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation? She hadn’t been afraid that he would, she realized. She hadn’t been afraid at all. Sometime during the past day, she had stopped fearing him.

Chapter Nineteen

JENNER WOKE STILL IN A BAD MOOD. FOR THE SECOND day in a row she was alone in the bed, and she’d slept through the removal of the handcuffs when she hadn’t even been able to retrieve the fricking key without waking Cael. He seemed to delight in proving to her again and again that she wasn’t in control of even the smallest thing, that she was completely helpless. It had been a very long time since she had been dependent on anyone for anything, and she didn’t like it at all. But, like it or not, Cael was forcing her to be dependent on him for everything until the cruise was over and she got off this damn ship.

The jackass was probably sitting out in the parlor, slugging down the last of the coffee and eating the last croissant, rather than waking her so she could eat, too. If he wasn’t here, one of the others would be, to make certain she didn’t poke her nose outside the suite without a guard by her side. She hoped he was gone, because dealing with Faith or Bridget would be easier right now than dealing with him.

She took her time showering, then dressed in one of her favorite outfits, cotton and silk blend teal capris with a skimpy white top trimmed in the same teal. Little sandals, which cost more than she used to earn in two weeks, decorated her feet. From her jewelry roll she took out platinum earrings, a couple of bracelets, and a tiny diamond toe ring. The outfit gave her confidence, because she knew she looked good in it. He wouldn’t know it, but how she was dressing was a sort of flip-off to him. She was damned if she’d give up, damned if she’d try to fade into the background, damned if she’d be Miss Meek and Mild. Oh, she’d play along with him in public, because she had to – Remember Syd, she reminded herself – but in private … that was a different matter entirely.

She sailed out of the bedroom and found Cael seated at the dining table, a round pedestal table with four upholstered chairs grouped around it. A large oblong serving tray sat on the table, filled with coffee service and two covers. A mostly empty plate sat to his left, a cup of coffee to his right. Directly in front of him was the laptop, and his earbud was in place.

He looked up when she entered, tapped a command on the laptop, and removed the earbud. "Breakfast," he said, indicating the two round covers on the tray. "Still fairly warm. It was delivered while you were in the shower."