Page 22 of A Reckless Indulgence

Dammit. Her teeth grit. The thought slipped out before she thought better of it. She’s not supposed to remember that; she’s not supposed to remember any details from the grotto.

Cav’s expression muddies into some strange mix of delight and disappointment. Lyx isn’t sure what that means, but all he says is, “If only,” before he pushes open the door at the end of the corridor.

This room is nestled into the bow, running parallel to the ship. Sunlight shines through a round window on one wall and casts across the bed on the opposite side. The floor space is limited, leaving most of Cav’s things strewn across his sheets or tucked into cabinets and the hanging desk on the wall. The bed is half-made, the drawers beneath it closed haphazardly around paintbrushes, clay beads, and spools of thread.

Lyx tries to dull any curiosity in her voice. “Never pegged you as an artist.”

“I like to pick things up: crafts, hobbies.” He leaves the door open behind them and stuffs a skein of yarn back into place. “Keeps my mind busy. Gives my hands something to do.”

Lyx wanders toward another drawer and tugs on a loop of rope until an entire bundle emerges. It’s different from the yarn, not scratchy and frayed like the lines used for sails and cargo. This rope is smooth and black, mysterious enough to be intimidating. When she tugs, the knot holding it in place slips.

The heat from Cav’s body spreads across her back. He’s close now, hovering over her shoulder until there’s an inch of space between them. His face hovers in her periphery. They’re alone, like last night on the dinghy. Like last night on the docks.

The air in the room crackles, like even the atmosphere forgets what it’s meant to do when it’s just the two of them. Lyx turns to face him. She braces against the rocking of the ship. When Cav reaches for the rope, she pulls it away.

His golden eyes flicker.

She doesn’t know why she provokes him. Maybe for chaos. Irritation. A little opportunity for revenge. Whatever the reason, she keeps the bundle behind her back, even when Cav leans toward her. Even when he reaches behind her, skimming his hand down her forearm to reach her fist.

She doesn’t give. “What’s it for?”

He keeps his eyes on her face, slipping his digits between hers to pry her fingers open one by one. “Play your cards right…” Once he has the rope again, he taps it on the underside of her chin. “You might find out.” Then he tosses it into a bag in the corner.

The room is suddenly stifling. She lifts her hair off her neck, but it does nothing to soothe her.

Cav leans back against the opposite wall. “We need to establish some rules. Before we start this…journey of ours.”

Hearing him speak about it makes her skin tight. She releases her hair and folds her arms across her chest. They might as well be negotiating a hostage situation rather than intercourse. Maybe a hostage situation would be easier.

Cav must sense it, too. He relaxes his shoulders, tail curling non-threateningly around his leg. “This’ll be easier if you act like you can tolerate me.”

“I’m tolerating enough already.”

“What would make you feel more cooperative?” Depths, he sounds earnest. “What sort of things do you want to try? What do you like?”

“Nothing you could give me.”

He exhales sharply, ruffling the hair across his forehead. “Fine. We need to choose a safeword. Something either of us can use if we want to stop at any time.”

Lyx shakes out the waves of her hair. “Nothing you do will surprise me enough for that.”

“You don’t even know what the rope is for.”

Her lips feel dry. She drags her tongue across them and ignores the way his gaze follows. “I can guess.”

“Yeah? Guess, then.” He stretches his arms overhead, then brings them across his chest to match hers. “I’d love to hear what it makes you think of.”

He looks more like a pirate than she’s ever seen him. Easy and unbothered, reclining with his foot against the wall. His knee tilts outward as if he’s making space for her.

So fucking nonchalant.

Her fingernails dig half-moons into her palm. She wants to upend that smirk on his face, to step between his legs and –

“Parley,” she finally snaps. “That’s the word. Are we done?”

He scrutinizes her for a long moment before he drops his foot back to the floor. “Not quite. See, you can put on a show for everyone out there. Act like this agreement is testing you. Like it doesn’t turn you on…” He wanders closer. Even when he’s looking up to meet her gaze, something about him engulfs her. “But when it’s just us, I want the truth.”

Her body thrums like a compass finding magnetic north. She refuses to look anywhere but his eyes. “I agreed to be an active participant. I’ll help you with your little project. I’ll fuck you.”