In Flight (Up in the Air #1)(54)

I was breathing hard now, but I answered calmly enough. “I went twenty-three years without sex. A few days certainly won’t kill me. What do you think I’ll do when we’re finished? I doubt I could find another lover right away.” My accent thickened slightly as I realized at the end that I was trying to goad him.

It came back to me way too easily, the accent I had heard and affected for most of my young life. It surfaced only with strong emotions. It both terrified and titillated me, what I would found down the road of his fury.

He growled, literally growled, into my neck. “I’m going to punish you for that.”

“Yes, I know,” I breathed, dreading and wanting it in equal parts.

He wrenched himself away, sitting back in his chair in the dining room. He seemed too big for the room suddenly, his eyes livid and wild.

“You’re playing with me,” he said raggedly.

His assessment of the situation surprised me. I sent him a questioning look.

“Is that how it seems to you?” I asked, stunned by the notion.

He ran a hand over his face and scraped it through his golden-streaked hair.

“You’re tying me in knots, yet you remain unaffected yourself. Are you just waiting for a reason to end this? That’s the impression I’m getting at the moment. And that drives me f**king crazy, since I don’t have a clue what will tip the scales against me.”

I finished prepping the chicken, putting the marinating dish in the fridge until I was ready to grill it. I moved to the asparagus.

“I don’t know what to tell you, James,” I finally said. “Perhaps I can’t give you what you want.”

“I want you!” His fist made me jump as it struck the tabletop with a jarring boom.

“If you ever use your fists on me, that will be a reason,” I told him quietly, watching that clenched fist and trying not to flinch.

He looked instantly remorseful, and I knew from his reaction that the stark terror that always resided somewhere inside of me had revealed itself, at least a little.

He approached me, and I tried not to cringe away. I was determined to face the fear, not to curl into a ball as I had as a child. He hugged me very carefully from behind. I let him, because I would have felt like a coward if I ran.

“I would never do that, you have to believe me. I would never use my fists on you. I’m so sorry if I scared you.”

I shrugged. It was a jerky motion. “As long as we’re clear.”

“I never saw it before, but I scare you, don’t I?” he asked, a strange edge to his voice.

I tried to concentrate on washing and breaking the asparagus.

“Is this an information exchange again? Are we sharing?” I asked archly.

He blew out a frustrated breath. “What do you want to know about me?”

A question popped immediately into my head. I hated it, but I hated not knowing more. “When was the last time you had sex, before the first time with me?”

He cursed. “I don’t think you want to know that. I don’t think that’s good for our relationship, to tell you that.”

I shrugged a tiny shrug, and he cursed again.

“That damn shrug is the most infuriating thing I’ve ever seen! What does it mean? That you don’t give a damn, one way or another?”

I shrugged again. “It means tell me or don’t tell me. But if you want my information, you’ll give me yours.”

“About eight days, I think. The day before I met you,” he said, and I felt him watching my face like a hawk.

So it was as I had suspected, I thought, keeping my face blank. He does this all the time. I was right to place no stock in this.

I just nodded, though unaccountably, my chest hurt a little.

“Yes, you scare me,” I told him, after a very long silence, while I processed his answer. “But I’m irrevocably f**ked up, so you excite me in equal measures. I find it liberating, to let someone control me. Someone who makes me tremble with fear. I’ve spent a great deal of my life running from the things that scare me, so this has been illuminating for me.” My voice was quiet, but that damned accent was back.

He stiffened and backed away from me, looking aghast.

I glanced over my shoulder, surprised. “Is that unusual? Isn’t that how this little game is played? I just assumed that most of the women who liked pain with pleasure were like me. But I suppose you are probably a far bigger expert than I am about that.”

I studied him closely. His face held a harsh sort of tension, though I could see that he was trying to hide it.

“I don’t want you to fear me,” he said, his voice raw. “I want to make you nervous and skittish and submissive, but not scared. I want you to trust me.”

I blinked at him, at a loss. “I’m sorry.”

I went back to cooking, and he fell silent.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Mr. Charming

“You get a faint accent sometimes. What is that?” he asked, breaking the long silence.

It was almost a relief to have him do something other than just stare at me, brooding, though I didn’t care for the question. I would have preferred that he not notice my slip.

“Another exchange, so soon?” I asked cooly. “I would have thought the last one was enough for one night.”

He didn’t speak for a long time, though I knew without looking that he was angry.