113
If I wasn’t so terrified about what I planned to do, I’d have laughed at his expression. But despite his talk of love and failure in the past, I have to convince him that he has a future with me.
Love or no love. I need him to choose me tomorrow night.
“Jag, I’d like to lie with you.”
I raise my eyes to his as he sifts through the meaning behind my words.
“In the biblical sense,” I add, my face suffusing with colour.
“Cat,” he shakes his head, “that isn’t necessary.”
“Probably not,” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant, “but it’s what I want.”
“Didn’t you previously condemn me for sleeping around?” He raises a quizzical eyebrow. “I recall you saying I was not someone’s last meal request.”
‘Oh, God. He is going to choose Cherry over me. Why? It makes no sense. Am I that unpalatable a prospect? Or too palatable?’
“Yes,” I frown, “but I don’t want to leave any cards on the table when it comes to you choosing who you’ll marry.
I know you slept with Cherry, and you’ve chosen not to eliminate her.
And you didn’t eliminate Thorun, not that I thought for a second you would.
But before you do whatever you’re planning to do after tonight, it’s only fair that you, ah, have all the information you need to make your decision. ”
He downs his drink in one gulp and turns from me to walk to the bar.
“You once told me you’d be happy to take a vow of chastity if it meant escaping your old life,” he says with his back to me.
“Yes, I would have,” I shrug, meeting his gaze in the mirror behind the bar, “but that was then.”
“Has so much changed?” He asks quietly as he turns and walks back to me, handing me an unasked-for drink.
‘No, and yes. I don’t understand the feelings I have for you. I wish to God I did.’
“Nothing’s fundamentally changed. I want to win.
I don’t want to die, and,” I clear my throat, “I’m assuming,” I try to ignore the heat in my face as I answer him, “that once we’re married we’ll have to consummate…
” I take a deep gulp, the hot whisky burning a path down my throat and bringing tears to my eyes.
“Cat,” he gently cups one side of my face with his hand, wiping away a whisky tear with his thumb, “let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
‘Oh God, he doesn’t want me. Not even THAT way. He’s going to eliminate me tonight.’
“You mean if we come to it,” I whisper.
He moves his thumb from my cheek and rubs it across my bottom lip, his eyes thoughtful, before shaking his head, having made some unseen decision.
“Cat, I desire you. You must know that by now. Your body, your blood. In different circumstances I’d fuck you three ways to Sunday in a heartbeat.”
I blush and look away, but he raises my chin with a finger, forcing me to look back into his eyes.
“But I won’t take what you’re offering tonight. Given your inexperience and your past, it would be doing you a grave injustice. If I do take your body it will be slow, gradual, and in a way that honours you — not one night on a boat. And not because you feel you have to.”
I nod my understanding, my face flaming in mortification at his open discussion of intimacy.
“But,” he murmurs, “it won’t make me love you, Cat.”
“I know that,” I frown.
“Good,” he smiles and steps back from me, turning to head for the door where he pauses, holding his hand out to me.
“In the meantime, let’s not worry about the future.
We’re on the same page about what we both want and we have all night together without the cameras.
I’d like to learn more about you. Not,” he adds gently, “in the biblical sense.”
I nod as he takes my hand and leads me back up on deck.