gasped and shot off his lap, stumbling when her knees didn’t want to support her. “What—no!”
She covered her throat where her pulse was racing, shocked at herself. He kept turning her into this...animal. That’s all this was: hormones. Some kind of primal response to the caveman who happened to yank her out of the lion’s jaws. The primitive part of her recognized an alpha male who could keep her offspring alive so her body wanted to make some with him.
Mikolas dropped one hand, then the other behind him, leaning on his straight arms, knees wide. His nostrils flared as he eyed her. It was the only sign that her recoil bothered him.
Contractions of desire continued to swirl in her abdomen. That part of her that was supposed to be able to take his shape felt so achy with carnal need she was nearly overwhelmed.
“You said you wouldn’t make me,” she managed in a shaky little voice.
It was a weak defense and they both knew it.
He cocked one brow in a mocking, I don’t have to. The way his gaze traveled down her made her afraid for what she looked like, silk clinging to distended nipples and who knew what other telltale reactions.
She pulled the fabric away from her skin and looked to the door.
“You’re bothered by your reaction to me. Why? I think it’s exciting.” The rasp of his arousal-husky voice made her inner muscles pinch with involuntary eagerness. “Come here. I’ll hold you all night. You’ll feel very safe,” he promised, but his mouth quirked with wicked amusement.
She hugged herself. “I don’t sleep around. I don’t even know you!”
“I prefer it that way,” he provided.
“Well, I don’t!”
He sighed, rising and making her heart soar with alarmed excitement. It fell as he turned and walked away to the corner of the room.
She had rejected him, she reminded herself. This sense of rebuff was completely misplaced.
But he was so appealing with his tall, powerful frame, spine bracketed by supple muscle in the way of a martial artist rather than a gym junkie. The low light turned his skin a dark, burnished bronze and he had a really nice butt in those wet, clinging boxers.
She ought to leave, but she watched him search out three different points before he drew the wall inward like an oversize door. The cabinetry from her stateroom came with it, folding back to become part of his sitting room, creating an archway into her suite.
“I haven’t used this yet. It’s clever, isn’t it?” he remarked.
If she didn’t loathe boats so much, she might have agreed. As it was, she could only hug herself, dumbfounded to see they were now sharing a room.
“You’ll feel safer like this, yes?”
Not likely!
He didn’t seem to expect an answer, just turned to open a drawer. He pawed through, coming up with a pink long-sleeved top in waffle weave and a pair of pink and mint green flannel pajama pants. “Dry off and put these on. Warm up.”
She waved at the archway. “Why did you do that?”
“You don’t find it comforting?”
Oh, she was not sticking around to be laughed at. She snatched the pajamas from his hand, not daring to look into his face, certain she would see mockery, and made for the bathroom in her own suite. Infuriating man.
She would close the wall herself, she decided as she clumsily changed, even though she preferred the idea of him being in the same room with her. He was not a man to be relied on, she reminded herself. If she had learned nothing else in life, it was that she was on her own.
Then she walked out and found a life vest on the foot of her bed. When she glanced toward his room, his lamp was off.
She clutched the cool bulk of the vest to her chest, insides crumpling.
“Thank you, Mikolas,” she said toward his darkened room.
A pause, then a weary “Try not to need it.”
VIVEKA WAS SO emotionally spent, she slept late, waking with the life vest still in her crooked arm.
Sitting up with an abrupt return of memory, she noted the sun was streaming in through the uncovered windows of Mikolas’s stateroom. The yacht was sailing smoothly and she could swear that was the fresh scent of a light breeze she detected. She swung her feet to the floor and moved into his suite with a blink at the brightness.
He didn’t notice her, but she caught her breath at the sight of him. He was lounging on the wing-like extension from his sitting area. It was fronted by what looked like the bulkhead of his suite and fenced on either side by glass panels anchored into thin, stainless steel uprights. The wind blew over him, ruffling his dark hair.
She might have been alarmed by the way the ledge dangled over the water, but he was so relaxed, slouched on a cushioned chair, feet on an ottoman, she could only experience again the pinch of deep attraction.
He had his tablet in one hand, a half-eaten apple in the other and he was mostly naked. Again. All he wore were shorts, these ones a casual pair in checked gray and black even though the morning breeze was quite cool.
Her heart actually panged that she had to keep fighting him. He looked so casually beautiful. It wasn’t just about her, though, but Aunt Hildy.
He lifted his head and turned to look at her as though he’d been aware of her the whole time. “Are you afraid to come out here?”
She was terrified, but it had nothing to do with the water and everything to do with how he affected her.
“Why are you allowed to have your balcony open and I got in trouble for it?” she asked, choosing a tone of belligerence over revealing her intimidation, forcing her legs to carry her as far as the opening.
“I had a visitor.” He nodded at the deck beside his ottoman.
Her bag.
Stunned, she quickly knelt and rifled through it, coming up with her purse, phone, passport... Everything exactly as it should be. Even her favorite hair clip. She gathered and rolled the mess of her hair in a well-practiced move, weirdly comforted by that tiny shred of normalcy.
When she looked up at him, Mikolas was watching her. He finished his apple with a couple of healthy bites and flipped the core into the water.
“Help yourself.” He nodded toward where a sideboard was set up next to the door to his office.
“I’m in time-out? Not allowed out for breakfast?”
No response, but she quickly saw there was more than coffee and a basket of fruit here. The dishes contained traditional favorites she hadn’t eaten since leaving Greece nine years ago.
Somehow
