Or I could slide on top of him and test just how firm his resolve was.
But that slight pleading in his eye told me more than his words. So did the tiny dots of perspiration on his forehead. If he was willing to put himself through this in order to prove himself to me, then I could at least not make it hell on him.
I cursed as I found my panties, then slid them and my tank top on before sliding under the covers with him.
“Sleep,” I said.
“Sleep,” he repeated, pulling me into the curve of his body.
For every inch I gave him, every part of me that relaxed into him, there was a part of me banging even harder against the bars to flee.
I just wish I knew which one would be stronger.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Landon
At Sea
She was going to be the death of me. I’d never been this turned on for this long since…ever. I hadn’t planned that night in the bungalow. Not that I regretted it. Hell no.
How the hell could I regret any moment that I had my hands on Rachel, her breath in my ear, her tight body under mine, my name on her lips?
And shit, now I was hard again.
It was like a permanent fucking condition lately—especially the last three days since we left Papua.
She walked into class? Hard.
Sat next to me? Hard.
Looked my way? Bit her damn lip? Brushed against me in the hallway? Hard.
Said my name? Answered a question in class? Took a swim in the pool?
Fuck my life. It was like I was fifteen again.
I relished every second of it, except maybe the cold-ass showers.
I wasn’t stupid—I was well aware that she was scared, testing the hell out of me, waiting to see if I’d finally give in and sleep with her, or if I’d fuck someone else. I saw it in the way she constantly watched my reactions, the way she pressed against me, kissed me, gave me every out in the book for this relationship.
She didn’t trust me—didn’t trust herself.
Part of her wanted me to fail.
The other girls who hung around weren’t an issue. I’d lost the desire to touch anyone else the moment Rachel appeared on board. Everything else felt shallow, cheap, and I was more than willing to wait for her as long as she needed.
“Hey, Nova,” Zoe said as I walked into my suite. She was stretched out on our couch with two other girls in string bikinis, and from the look of those Solo cups and rum bottles, they’d been drinking awhile.
“Hey, Zoe,” I said, heading to my room to drop my bag.
Of course she followed me. I turned to find her lounging on the doorframe, her long, lithe figure draped to showcase its best attributes. “Long day?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Not really. A good workout, a couple classes. What about you?”
“Oh, the same. I actually helped Pax out with some stuff for Nick, then I grabbed lunch up on deck twelve…”
“Okay?” I knew she was leading into something.
“Oh, it’s probably nothing, but I saw your girlfriend eating with someone.” Her sweet smile didn’t fool me. I also didn’t bother to correct her. I was perfectly fine with everyone in the world calling Rachel my girlfriend. It was Rachel who objected.
“Yeah? I’m glad she got lunch,” I said, putting my books onto my desk.
Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “It was that Hugo guy. The cute one with the dark hair?”
“That doesn’t surprise me. They’re friends.”
She walked over and sat on my bed, crossing her legs. “It doesn’t bother you? I mean, they looked really friendly. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I did my best to swallow back my annoyance at both. I knew Hugo wanted more. Hell, I’d been there when he’d asked her out. But I’d also been there when she said no, and when she came to my bungalow. I wasn’t going to play into Zoe’s need to incite a riot.
“No, it doesn’t bother me that she had lunch with a friend. And thank you for the concern, but Rachel and I aren’t up for discussion, Zoe.”
She squirmed under my stare. “Fine. I just care about you.”
“You want to get out here and—” Pax startled when he saw Zoe draped over my bed like a damn porn star. “Uh. Hi, Zoe.”
“What’s up?” I asked, sending him a little telepathic save me message.
“Bobby needs you in the dining room.”
“On it,” I said, walking out of my room without a backward glance. “Thank you,” I told Pax as we walked past the bar and the other girls in the living room.
“You didn’t…?”
“Hell no!” The girls all turned to look, and I lowered my voice. “I haven’t touched anyone but Rachel since she showed up.”
The relief on his face was almost palpable. “Oh, thank God. Because the last thing I need is Leah hating you. She’s already had a hard enough time accepting you were the one who hurt Rachel in the first place.”
I slapped him on the back, admiring the change in his priorities these last couple of months. I’d stupidly worried that Leah would distract him, but she’d focused him, given him a purpose that turned into an even more intense drive. “No worries.”
Penna came in through the sliding glass door, moving surprisingly well considering the giant boot she wore. “What did you guys need?”
“Originals production meeting,” Pax said, and we pulled out chairs at the dining room table while Penna stood. At least a production meeting meant there weren’t any cameras.
“I don’t really have anything I need to be here for,” she said.
Pax’s eyes shot fire. “I’m done with this shit. Your leg is healing, and you’re coming back. It’s been us three since the start. If we made it through almost losing Nick, we can handle this, too.”
“Nick didn’t almost destroy us,” she said quietly, her eyes flickering to where the girls were discussing some reality TV bullshit.
“Neither did you!” Pax shouted, uncaring about the audience.
Penna crossed her arms over her chest.
“Pax…” I warned.
“What? She didn’t.” His gaze swung back to Penna. “I get it. You feel guilty. Guilt that you didn’t know, that you didn’t catch on, that she is your sister. I get it. She’s your family, but you know what? We are, too. So sit your ass down and help us figure out this scheduling mess, Penelope!”
She arched a single eyebrow at his tirade.
He sighed and pulled out her chair. “Please.”
She looked at me.
“We have always needed you, and that’s not going to change,” I said softly.
Her sigh was audible, but she sat.
Bobby came over from where he’d leaned against the wall while waiting for us to get our shit together and laid out the calendar in a series of papers along the table.
“I talked to Nick. Your timeline is fucked,” he said, not mincing words.
“Well, that sounds promising,” I said as the sliding door opened again. Leah and Rachel walked in.
Rachel had on a little green sundress that had to have been specially designed to bring me to my knees. There was no other explanation for the immediate need that clawed at me to strip it off her.
“Hey, Firecracker, come on in,” Pax said to Leah.
“I thought it was an Originals-only meeting,” Zoe said as she came out of my bedroom. Shit.
In my fucking Led Zeppelin T-shirt.