No Longer Forbidden(41)

Now, though, a mental clock ticked in her head. The ferry’s horn usually sounded when it reached the tip of the island. It took ages to empty and reload, so she had at least thirty or forty minutes to get to the marina, but she suspected that wouldn’t give her enough time to talk Nic around to her way of thinking.

There wasn’t enough time in the world for that. If only he wasn’t naked and looking like the biggest, angriest Viking ever to rip off his shirt and go berserk.

“I made it clear we weren’t holding a service.” That low, livid voice nearly made her knees collapse.

“We aren’t holding one, are we?” She spoke with admirable civility, keeping the quaver out of her voice. “I am. Courtesy demands I invite you. Could you make up your mind? I have to run if you’re not coming.”

“How could you?” His fingers curled as if he wanted to close them on her neck.

“Option two, then? We’re fighting.” Her temper caught like a cat’s claw. She might have kept her distance while she made the plans, aware that continuing their sexual relationship while going behind his back would make this betrayal worse, but he had completely ignored her for days! That hurt. “Or are you literally asking me how I did it? Because I don’t need your permission and I have resources.”

“Table dancing?” he derided.

“What else?” she taunted to hide the smart. “Of course in order to earn enough to pay for this big party I’m hosting I’ll have take off my clothes this time.”

Outrage arced from him like an electric bolt, making her jerk as he seemed to rise taller and loom over her. “That had better be a lie.”

“What’s it to you?” she cried, the words coming straight from the forsaken nights that had piled up in the last few days.

This was the hardest time of her life and he was making it harder with his hot and cold attitude, the exquisite peaks of pleasure he’d brought her to and the pit of dejection he’d left her in. Her incendiary anger carried her forward, resentful words charging off her tongue.

“What do you care if I sell myself on street corners and buy gold-plated urns? I’m just a girl you sleep with when you’re bored. I don’t rate so much as a good morning or a thanks for lunch or a kiss goodnight!”

An inferno of anger roared in his eyes. Wrong thing to fight about, she thought, but his rebuff pained her so deeply she couldn’t help herself.

“Maybe if you’d spoken to me I might have told you!” she rushed on, with a contentious lift of her chin, the burn of humiliation searing through her. “But you didn’t even invite me for a spin in one of the guest rooms. What’s the matter, Nic? Does sleeping with me make you hate me less?”

He caught her by the upper arms before she saw him move. “What do you want from me? Flowers? Romance? Caring? Prepare for disappointment. I’m not built that way. But if you’re missing the sex keep talking. I’ll accommodate you,” he warned.

She could have done a million things: said something cruel, sent her knee into his groin. She wasn’t scared by his threat, though. She was aroused. So was he. The hectic flush across his cheekbones, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest and the bulge of his towel filled her with euphoria.

He didn’t want to want her, though, and that made her mad. It gave her the power to strike back in the one way she knew would completely undermine his control: she whipped off his towel and threw it to the floor.

“Really?” He backed her into the wall, incredulous.

“What are you going to do about it?” she taunted.

His fierce blue eyes never left hers as his hands shot to her waist, brushing open her robe before descending to her bare thighs in a rough caress. His hands climbed to her hips, bunching the hem of her short nightie over his wrists.

She gasped and jerked at his proprietorial touch, shamefully flooding with heated wetness. It had been days! His breath left him in a ragged laugh as he realized there were no panties to remove. He reached to cup her buttocks, sliding his palms to the backs of her thighs beneath the curve of her bottom, and lifted her.

She parted her legs in a practiced leap, arms reaching over his bunching shoulders to brace her weight on him. Something brazen and fierce was taking hold in her. A knot of anguished loneliness had been building in her and the only way to break it apart was with the hot penetration of her body by his.

She was completely ready for him, whether from her erotic dreams and constant fantasies or because sexual frustration had been at the heart of this fight in the first place. She didn’t know. Only knew that she was wet and needy. And when he embedded himself in her with one smooth thrust she cried out in primal fulfillment, locking her legs around his waist with frantic, brazen determination.