Only the occupant from inside the room could grant access.
With hands balled, she strode straight for me.
I backed away as she tapped the polished silver hardware. “Why did you put a lock on my door?”
I shrugged as if it was no big deal. “There wasn’t one before. I thought you might feel safer.”
“Safer?” She rolled the word around, tainting it with suspicion. “Why wouldn’t I feel safe on your yacht? Why would I need a barrier between us when you’re the only one I trust?”
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Lots of reasons.
Me being the main one.
Allowing a trace of anger to thicken my voice, I replied, “You’ve been through a lot. Excuse me for trying to ensure you continue healing by giving you a safe place that only you can open.”
She crossed her arms—in no way intimidated by my temper or ready to back down. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You don’t have to believe it to be real.”
“But it’s not real.”
I pointed at the lock. “What isn’t real about that? You can touch it, turn it, and once you’ve slid the latch from the inside, nothing and no one is getting through there.” I used the memories of our first night at Alrik’s together, hurting her like a jackass. “I seem to remember your previous accommodations didn’t have locks. It didn’t even have doors. I had to fetch one from the garage before we were able to be alone. I would’ve thought this was a much better alternative.”
Her face froze.
Her breathing stalled.
She stared as if she couldn’t quite believe I’d gone there.
I couldn’t believe it, either, but that was what happened when I was pushed. When I was trying to do the right thing, only for temptation to roar until I gave in.
I won’t give in.
We glowered at each other before a tight smile tilted her lips and she came forward to rest her fingertips on my forearm. “Okay.” Her touch was infinitely gentle but it held the power to decimate me.
I shivered as she shook her head gently. “We both know why there’s a lock on my door when there wasn’t one before.”
“Look, you’ve had a long day. Instead of standing around talking about things that are of no consequence, do as I ask and relax. We’re at sea for the next—”
“It’s so you can’t come in.”
Her interruption stole any understandable language, giving her the perfect stage to unman me.
“You don’t trust yourself. You’ve never trusted yourself.” Her eyes turned sad. “And that’s the true problem, isn’t it? It’s not the fact that you have a mind that fixates on things but the fact you don’t trust yourself to be able to fight it.”
I crossed my arms, chilled to the bone and furious. Deciding to strip her, just like she’d done to me, I muttered, “Your mother was the psychologist, Pim. Not you. Don’t speak about things you don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand?” She cocked her head. “I don’t understand that you would rather leave me than face yourself? That you would rather place locks between us than enjoy a meal together? That you would rather blame me for tempting you than believing you have the self-control to stop?” Placing her hands on her hips, her voice lowered to sympathy rather than argument. “I’m not saying what you live with isn’t hard. I’ve seen how you struggle. I’ve been with you. I’ve watched you. I’ve felt you—”
“Stop, Pimlico.”
“No.” She held up her hand. “Let me finish.” Inhaling hard, she continued, “I may not be trained like my mother, but she coached me enough to see between the lines, and you…well, your problem isn’t that you have the capacity to lose yourself to a sensation. Your problem is you don’t trust that you can have what you want and keep it within reason. You can—”
“I can’t! That’s the whole fucking point. You don’t understand. What I want most is you. And when I get what I want, nothing else matters.” Stalking toward her, I pressed my body against hers.
She didn’t back away. Instead, she held her ground, chest to chest, hips to hips.
And fuck it was the best thing I’d ever felt.
“I want you, Pimlico. I’m about two seconds from taking you, and even now you look at me as if my needs aren’t something to be feared but challenged.”
My jaw clenched at the delicious sensation of her soft curves against my hard edges. I’d give anything to grab her, toss her on the bed, and stop fighting.
It was exhausting living this way.
Didn’t she think I’d give anything to stop battling myself? To give in?
I swallowed my groan. Christ, I’d do whatever it took.
But it wasn’t that simple.
“If I kissed you now…” My eyes dropped to her lips where her teeth indented the plump flesh. “If I touched you now…” My fingers grazed her hips where she swayed on the spot. “If I fucked you now…” I pulled her forward where my hard cock wept for freedom. “I wouldn’t be myself. It wouldn’t be me kissing you, touching you, fucking you. It would be something unhealthy. Something that doesn’t deserve you.”