by Amy Andrews
Christ.
Seth turned to walk away and didn’t stop until he was pulling the bathroom door quietly shut. He flicked the light on, leaning heavily on his fists against the vanity as he stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, he needed to shave again, and his hair looked like it had been shoved in one of those air-blade hand dryers.
“What the fuck, man?” he whispered to his reflection.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have any answers. His erection pushed painfully against the metal of his zipper, the imprint of each tooth branding his cock.
He was tempted to do something about that monster before it totally took over all his higher function. But it felt wrong to be even contemplating a wank when she was in the other room.
“Get a fucking grip,” he whispered again.
Seth leaned over the sink and popped out his contacts, blinking and squinting as his bleary eyes found the natural blue of his irises too damn bright. He grabbed his lens solution out of his toilet bag and squirted his contacts with it, letting them sit for a bit before turning on the tap, ducking his head and throwing water in his face.
Feeling slightly human again, he wiped his face with a towel and ran a comb through his hair. He reached for his eye drops to ease the grittiness and squirted a healthy dollop into each eye. What he really needed was to soak his eyeballs in it overnight, but this would have to do.
He blinked a few times, then reached for his contacts, popping them back in with practiced ease.
Goodbye Seth. Hello Dean.
…
By eleven the next morning Ivy had taken about as much of Dean’s pacing as she could handle.
He’d been standing in front of the television eating a bowl of Froot Loops when she’d finally woken earlier. His very fine ass wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever woken up to, and for long moments she’d just lain there and basked in its hotness, but she was now officially over it strutting back and forth.
She’d been reading, trying to get lost in the heat and sizzle of the ménage plot—not the most appropriate thing to be reading considering who she was holed up with—but even double penetration was hard to get into with Dean’s restless prowl distracting her.
The long stretch of a denim thigh, the tight squeeze of his butt, the twist of his flat belly beneath his shirt as he turned. Then repeat.
“Okay,” she said, putting her Kindle down. “Enough already.” Dean looked up from the curtain he’d pulled aside for the hundredth time. “You’re going to give me whiplash if you keep that up for the next few days.”
“Sorry.” He grimaced, dropping the fabric and raking a hand through his hair. “I’m more an outdoors kind of person.”
“No shit.” Dean’s body screamed athlete. Active, muscular, tanned. Was there some genetics going on there or was it all from the sun?
He prowled back in her direction, coming to a halt near the coffee table and lowering his butt onto it, his palms flat on his thighs. “You know, when I was a kid, I used to think how amazing it would be to live in a hotel. To sleep in a soft bed with clean sheets every night and order room service whenever I wanted. I could watch cartoons all day, ride the lift whenever I wanted, or play in the fire escapes.”
Ivy laughed at the typical kid fantasy. They’d obviously led very different lives. Between embassies, hotel suites, and military compounds, she’d had enough of that kind of life.
Four walls and a hell of a lot of boredom. Just like this. Apart from the bronzed sex god.
“I find it hard to imagine you were ever a kid.”
He regarded her with those dark brown eyes. “There are times I do, too.”
“Where are you from? Your accent is English?”
“I never really had a fixed address,” Dean said as he turned away and headed for the kitchenette. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
Ivy raised an eyebrow. Discussion closed? “Dean.”
“Or I can make coffee if you prefer.” He flicked on the electric jug.
“Dean.”
Her quiet emphasis paid off as he turned around, lounging his butt against the counter. “Don’t you think it’s stupid that we’ve been in this hotel room for almost a day and a half now and yet we hardly know anything about each other?”
“Not really.” He seemed particularly awkward with her this morning. Surely her impulsive kiss wasn’t still freaking him out? “We didn’t have that kind of…relationship prior to the whole Kade thing, so why would we now?”
Was he serious? “Because there’s a dude out there trying to kill us? And because it’ll help pass the time and, who knows, we might even end up friends?”
The straight line of his mouth told her he wasn’t looking for a friendship. “I’m not much of a talker,” he said, folding his arms across his very nice chest.
Ivy laughed. The understatement was hilarious. “You’re hard on a girl’s ego, Dean Bennett. Aren’t you even just a little bit curious about me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t believe in prying into people’s personal affairs.”
She laughed again. “It’s not prying, it’s called conversation. How about we give it a whirl?”
…
Seth almost said no. Shut her down straight away. He did not want to be friends with Ivy who was clearly oblivious to what she’d done to him last night. He wanted to stalk over to the bed, rip her jeans and tee off and find every way possible to make her scream his name while she came her brains out for as long as they were stuck here together.
Was he curious about her?
That was putting it mildly. He was curious about the noises she might make if he kissed her properly, the color of her nipples, what she tasted like, her tattoo, and how she’d sound as she came. He was curious about where she liked to be touched and whether she’d let him take charge and if she enjoyed giving head. He was curious about the long curve of her spine and the dip of her hip and how she’d look straddled atop of him, her hair loose, her breasts bouncing as he pushed her over the edge.
Or curled up beside him in bed, naked, her body branded by his.
He was curious what that foot might feel like on his bare cock.
Yeah…so not going there.
He groped around for something inane. “Okay fine… What are you reading?”
Books. Seth congratulated himself on his quick thinking. Maybe they could get a conversation going about books and leave the personal stuff way the fuck alone.
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to do this if you feel forced into it. Jeez, Dean…it’s no big deal, it’s just two people talking.”
He sighed. She was right. Anybody in this situation would at least try to get to know the other person a little. But Seth knew what was coming. Sooner or later he was going to have to tell her some more lies. And he didn’t relish that.
“Fine. I’m sorry. Let me start again.” He schooled his features and forced a smile on to his face. “What are you reading?”
She rolled her eyes. “You really want to know what I’m reading?”
He shoved his hands on his hips. “Are you really going to critique my questions?”
“Okay.” She held her hands up in surrender.
“For what it’s worth, yes, I do want to know what you’re reading. It seems pretty engrossing.”
She pinked up under his scrutiny, but there was a defiant little tilt to her chin that told him he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Its erotic fiction,” she said, her large green eyes daring him to object. A couple days ago she could barely look at him without the aid of her fringe and now here she was, back straight, head up, holding his gaze unwaveringly.
Of course, she’d also kissed and sleep-groped him in that time also.
“Ménage fiction to be precise.”
“Oh…”
“Is that a problem?”
“No,” he assured her while his brain desperately tried to shut off an avalanche of images. “Absolutely not. I didn’t really
think you were…the type, but hey, good for you.”
Her eyes took on a strange glitter. “The type?” Her voice dropped an octave. “I have a type?”
Fuck. “Well yes…I mean no…” What the hell, man?
“What is it? My type?”
Seth held up his hand in a back-up motion. “This is why not talking is a much better option.”
“Because you’re really bad at it?”
Yes. Apparently. “I just meant you look like you read the classics in the original ancient Greek. There’s an…innocence about you which is—”
“Innocence? Goddamn it!” She climbed off the bed, folded her arms, and glared at him. “You think I’m innocent?”
Seth wasn’t sure if that was a trick question. Even pissed at him there was a kind of purity to her. Although her actions last night had sure as shit not been pure.
“Well…yes? But better that than…old and hard, right?”
Like me.
It was Ivy’s turn to pace as she walked to the front window. “No,” she said, also twitching the curtain open a bit before pacing back toward him, stopping a little too close for his comfort.
“It’s all right for you. You’re a…big bouncer, man-of-the-world who probably has a whole bevvy of…Flamenco dancers lined up around the corner to jump into your bed.”
Seth blinked. Flamenco dancers?
“Try growing up with a Colonel as a father. It’s a damn good way for scaring prospective boyfriends away. My father had that look. The kind that made most teenage boys piss themselves. The ones he didn’t scare away weren’t game enough to kiss me let alone get to second base.”
Yeah. Seth knew that look. He’d seen Colonel Danforth in action. But hell…if he ever had a daughter he’d be using the exact same glare—teenage boys were dirty little bastards.
But that didn’t mean Seth wanted to be having this conversation with her about kissing boys and second base. He didn’t want to be talking about—thinking about—kissing. And he wanted to stay the hell away from second goddamn base.
“I’m…sorry?”
“A fat lot of good that does me still being a virgin at twenty-three,” she said, turning on her heel and pacing back to the window.
Chapter Five
Seth blinked stunned at the piece of information she’d hurled at him like a grenade.
A virgin?
No fucking way. He cringed at all the things he’d been thinking about. Did she like giving head? The woman probably hadn’t even had a dick in her mouth for fucks sake.
No wonder she looked so damn innocent.
Nice, Rodrigo, real nice.
“You’re a…virgin?”
“Yes,” she said turning around, two spots of color high on her cheeks. “I’m a virgin.” She put her hands over her face. “And I can’t believe I just told you that.”
Neither could he. And he really, really wished she hadn’t.
“Are you going to laugh now?”
Seth frowned. “Of course not.” There was something about knowing Ivy had never been with a man that was just a little bit thrilling. “We’re all virgins in the beginning.”
“Oh yeah?” she said as she walked toward him again, all her anger burned off. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
Seth shook his head. Too bloody young. Trying to find an emotional connection anywhere he could. “I don’t think you can compare that kind of thing, everybody’s life experiences are different.”
“Oh God, you were like sixteen, weren’t you?”
He’d been fourteen but she didn’t need to know that. “Around that, yes.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Thirty-two.”
“So you have”—she paused and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she did the mental arithmetic—“seven years’ head-start on me.”
Obviously her virginity had become a bit of an albatross around her neck and losing it was a matter of priority. He just hoped she knew it might not be that great and he pitied the poor bastard who was tasked with that milestone.
Almost as much as he envied him.
“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t very good, Ivy.”
Seth couldn’t believe he was even talking about this crap to her, but it actually felt good to be honest about something. He couldn’t tell her a lot of his truths, but he could be honest about this.
“That’s okay, I’ll take bad. I’ll take whatever I can get. I’m starting to feel like a freak.”
Seth groaned internally. He really did not want to be having this conversation. Unfortunately it was the one they were having. “But there must be guys who have been interested?”
God knew he’d thought about little else since he started this bloody assignment.
“Sure,” she said, sitting down on the edge of his bed looking at her feet. “But I’ve been around men my whole life. A lot of alpha, testosterone-infused, military dudes who like to give orders and expect to be obeyed and I’ve just never wanted to give up that kind of control to a man.”
She sighed. “It’s my own fault. I’ve been too picky. But it’s just getting ridiculous now.” She glanced at him. “I can’t believe this whole trip was about me cashing in my v-card and I still didn’t manage it.”
What the hell? “So you were traveling with Merry to…”
“Get laid?”
Not exactly how he would have put it—not to her anyway—but…he smiled. “Yes.”
She returned his smile with a rueful one of her own. “That was the idea. But it doesn’t seem to matter where I am. I can’t just…jump in.” She sighed. “I wish I could be more like Merry. More of a guy-in-every-port girl.”
His brain busy with indecent thoughts about jumping in, Seth wished she had been, too. “People are different.”
“I know, I know. I just can’t believe I’m going to return home with my cherry still not popped. Hell, I’m probably going to die a virgin.”
A chuckle escaped before he could recall it.
“I’m glad you find the state of my virginity so freaking funny,” she said, her cheeks pinking up again as she pushed off the bed and stalked to the front door once more.
Seth raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” he told her back. “Trust me, the right guy will come along and it’ll just happen.”
And he would be one very lucky dude.
“Not likely,” she said, turning to face him. “I’ve got this stupid, anemic skin and these damn big…” she waved her hands in front of her face, “Picasso eyes and padding on my hips and thighs that remains stubbornly attached to me no matter how much I diet.”
Diet? Seth blinked. Why on earth would she diet? She was perfectly proportioned. She should be painted on a ceiling somewhere for Christ’s sake. He knew for a fact every male with a pulse at the Cross Bar checked her out.
“You look…” Sexy. Gorgeous. Hot. “Fine, Ivy.”
It was her turned to laugh this time although it didn’t sound very cheerful. “Gee, thanks.”
Seth grimaced at his faux pas. “Ivy, I didn’t mean…what I should have said—”
She flapped her hand at him dismissively. “It’s fine.” She pushed off the door and walked toward him, her gaze focused on a point behind him, a slight slump to the line of her shoulders. “I think I’m done with the getting to know each other thing for now.”
Seth figured that was some kind of female cue for him to jump in and apologize, be the good guy. Tell her how gorgeous she was and insist that they keep talking about themselves and their formative life experiences.
But Seth really didn’t want to be talking about this stuff and he’d take any opportunity she threw him to get off the hook.
Even ones that make him look like an insensitive dick.
Better she hated him anyway.
…
Ivy took in none of her book for the next few hours. Not even the beautifully scripted erotic scenes could stop th
e churning of her brain.
Seth thought she looked fine. What a ringing endorsement that was. She felt so special.
Not.
And why the hell had she let slip the embarrassing problem of her virginity? A couple days ago she blushed when he looked at her and now she was telling him her deepest secrets?
It was the innocence thing that had pushed her over the edge. She was so damn sick and tired of being pegged as innocent. She knew it was her fair coloring that did it, but she was so over it.
And also a little miffed. Deep down, over the last day or so, Ivy had secretly harbored the fantasy of Dean being the one. Since meeting him, she could definitely see why women like Merry ripped their clothes off with complete strangers.
She had a feeling Dean Bennett could order her around in bed and she’d cede her control to him in a heartbeat.
Just the thought put a hitch in her breath.
Was it that ridiculous to think they could have some kind of an adult arrangement for the period of their confinement? It made sense, really. Why not pass the time having a little fun?
But Dean seemed completely indifferent to a spot of deflowering.
She supposed virgins were probably a lot of hard work and not necessarily a good bet. After all, why go around relieving innocent women of their virtue when he had the Flamenco section of the market cornered?
Later that evening after some pizza the police ordered and delivered for them and a hot shower to soothe the residual ache in her hip, Ivy was ready to talk again.
The embarrassment from earlier had dissipated—mostly—and she was determined to find out something about Dean Bennett if it killed her. They obviously weren’t going to get naked and do the wild thing, so talk was all they had left and she was damned if she was leaving here without at least knowing her fellow inmate a little better.
“Nothing on the news again, I see,” she said as she crossed in front of him on her way to the kitchen, a small drawstring bag in one hand, brushing her hair with the other. The light in the room was low with the television and her beside lamp the only sources.
“Nope,” he said from the couch, his bare feet up on the coffee table. He didn’t look up from the television. “They haven’t mentioned the shooting at all.”