“Actually, Wes, I think asking me to come is what all my issues are about.” She traced the edge of the table, but then lifted her head, as if forcing herself to face whatever was going on in that head of hers. “This curse thing has really thrown a wrench in all the fun I was ready to have with you. Believe me, I was planning to spend a lot of time in that bed, but-” She motioned around with her hands, yet that didn’t conjure up an explanation.
He wished he could help her figure out her own mind. Hell, if he could somehow erase all the discomfort she was obviously feeling right now, he would. He’d take it all on himself.
Her lips parted as she seemed to read that on his face. “Wes…” She trailed off.
“Why don’t you just tell me what’s happening?”
Erin hesitated, knowing she had to come clean. But the bald truth would change everything. It would officially turn a good-time affair into the real deal, and from that point on, it’d go downhill. It’d bring all that helplessness and anger back because she didn’t know how else to handle the sort of rejection William had introduced into her life.
But…what if that didn’t happen?
You’ve already found ‘the one.’
Once again, she glanced at Wes. He was watching her with barely contained…what? What was it?
And why wasn’t it scaring her more now that she was confronting it head-on?
Bolstered, she knew what she had to do: take control of this curse. Stop being life’s little pawn. Make a decision and move out of the limbo fear had stuck her in.
“I’m so sorry for what happened,” she said, choked. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t even mean what I insinuated about your being no more than a player. See, I’ve had sex with one man in my life, and it’s always meant…well, the skies opening, the seas parting. I thought I’d be able to adjust my philosophy with a guy of your-let’s face it-reputation, but then emotions entered the equation, and they were never supposed to. Not with someone like the person I thought you were.” She stopped.
Wes gripped the arms of his chair. “Go on.”
Here it went, here it-
“That prediction? The fortune-teller?” Go, go, go… “You were right. It was about more than just business or lifelines.”
He waited, but she was so nervous that she stood, fretful.
He got out of his seat, too, somehow understanding her need to move around while doing this.
Without a word, he took her hand, enclosing it in his all-encompassing grip. She held tightly to him, following him toward the stairs.
“Madame Karma also told me that I’d already found ‘the one,’” she finally said.
His fingers tightened around hers.
She rushed on. “And I couldn’t accept that because the prediction meant that you were a candidate for being ‘it.’ I thought you wouldn’t be relationship material and that I’d get hurt all over again.”
“‘The one,’” he said, smiling now.
Her heart skittered, her breathing shallow. But why was this so scary?
Or was it…?
“I guess what all this is leading up to,” Wes said, “is that I wasn’t the type of guy who was suited for the position of ‘the one’ and you’re fighting the prediction-hence, the curse.”
They were at the bottom of the stairs now, on their cabin’s floor. She turned to him, recognizing the fear in his own eyes. He was afraid she’d reject him, wasn’t he? Or, even worse, he didn’t like that she’d thought so little of him.
Moved, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly, just as she impulsively had that day in Ensenada as rain had pattered above them on the overhang. That afternoon, it’d felt natural to express affection for him. It’d felt right-until she’d started thinking about it again.
So stop thinking, she told herself.
Warm, good…Her mouth lingered against his, her breasts skimming his chest, beading the tips of them with tight yearning.
She pulled away slightly, keeping hold of his shirt. Finally, cathartically, she told him about the world’s longest engagement with William and how it’d chipped away at her, year after year; how it’d made her doubt that she had it in her to ever try again, especially if failure meant another spirit-crushing breakup.
“I never want to be that hopeless woman again.” She let go of his shirt but kept her hand on his chest. “So when you asked me out, I was looking forward to the freedom of being with a guy who didn’t expect anything from me but all the easy stuff: the sex and laughter. And, most importantly, I didn’t have to expect anything from you, only to be disappointed when I didn’t get it.”
A relieved breath escaped Wes, and he shook his head, tucking a strand of hair behind Erin’s ear. She leaned into his touch, craving more, startled to find she was unafraid to accept it.
“And here I was thinking it was about me,” he said. “I thought that you felt I wasn’t good enough.”
“It’s not that you weren’t ‘good enough.’ You were what I thought I needed. But what you really were scared the dickens out of me so I tried not to deal with that side of you.”
“So…” He swallowed. “It turns out that you made this curse, Erin. You and your psychological obstacle course.”
Whoa. She braced herself to withstand a flood of terror at this realization, but it never came. No, there was only a rise of soft heat consuming her from the toes upward, covering her skin, engulfing her.
“I was using the curse to keep myself from having to make any decisions about you…?” It made sense now: at first the curse had been built on coincidences, such as the emergency drill. And she’d been all too willing to embrace it, giving it new life from there, starting with her so-called seasickness.
He began guiding her into the corridor, where the early-morning quiet still hovered.
It didn’t take a genius to guess where he was taking her. But what if he was wrong? What if the curse wasn’t just her creation? What if-?
“Damn the curse,” he said, as if reading her mind. “It was nothing. Even if a tsunami turns this ship over, you’re mine.”
His determination shot a thrill through every extremity, tingling her skin as he shut their door behind them.
Before she could catch her next breath, he’d pressed her against the door, his penis already hard against her belly. Her insides went squiggly, and she latched her mouth to his, seeking to share the pleasure.
They devoured each other, desperate and hungry, tongues tangling as her skin flushed with wet heat. She tried to yank off his shirt; he tried to undo her jeans. Her head hit the wall, but she didn’t feel any pain, just adrenaline-fueled, deep-seeded delight.
Moment by beating moment, that delight melted down, over her flesh, into her belly, like the thaw of ice cream on a sweltering day.
Hadn’t the fortune-teller said that going with the flow would correct any warped karma? Was that happening now that she’d opened up?
Yes! Hallelujah-
That’s when the intercom sounded for an announcement.
10
AT THE INTERRUPTION, ERIN started banging her head against the wall.
“Hell, no,” Wes said as the purser began to ramble over the intercom.
But the moment he heard the phrase “shipboard games,” he carried on. Screw the curse-it was crap.
He lifted Erin up, and she squealed in surprise. It obviously turned her on, too, because she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him senseless.
Blood chopping and all systems “go,” he spun her toward the bed. But in their passion, he didn’t know his own strength, accidentally knocking her against the vanity counter. Her cosmetics went clanging off the surface, yet it didn’t matter as he set her down there, her legs wrapping around him and drawing his cock against the warm center of her.