“Bullshit.” But he stopped and looked at her. “Let me carry you to bed, Rachel. Please.”
“Just...” Heat burned up her neck and across her cheeks. “You swear I’m not too heavy?”
“Don’t impugn my manhood here, woman. I shouldn’t have to tell you that my carrying you is a wildly romantic gesture.”
Burying her face in his neck, she murmured, “Don’t do something ridiculous like throw your back out.”
“I won’t. I’m curious, though. Where’s the concern coming from?”
She kissed his neck and couldn’t help but feel empowered when he shivered. “I’m not done with you tonight. An emergency-room visit for a slipped disc isn’t part of my plans.”
“If I slip a disc, it’ll be because I’m rushing. You have no idea how sexy you are or how much I want you to carry out your plans for the evening.”
“And if those plans are simply a card game?”
“I’ll spot you the cigar, as promised. But, Rachel?” He paused and leaned down, bringing his lips to within a hairbreadth of hers. “If you told me all you wanted was a poker game, I’d honor that.”
“I know.”
“That’s all that matters.” He toed open the sliding glass door and strode down the narrow hall, carefully twisting and turning, as if to ensure he didn’t bang Rachel’s head or feet on a wall.
She gasped when he stepped through a doorway and kicked the door shut before settling her on a massive bed. Looking around, she feigned indifference. “An actual king-size bed. I’m impressed.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”
She grinned at him. “Bunks? A U-shaped dinette? Maybe a fish-gutting table.”
Isaac peeled off his jacket and tossed it toward a chair in the corner of the not insubstantial room...and missed. “Not on this dinghy.” Then he started working on his tie.
Rachel rose to her knees, then crawled across the bed, stopping only when she placed her hands over his at his collar. He stilled, looking down at her. For a moment, her mind went blank.
His blue eyes, framedby black lashes, had darkened several shades and developed an immeasurable depth. But they held something new.
Excitement.
His facial features were as defined as before, but they were decidedly less harsh.
Softened.
And the flush of his skin might be attributed to the brisk wind that had buffeted them on deck, but she saw something else there, as well.
Anticipation.
She hadn’t taken the time to pay attention before, and the car’s dark backseat hadn’t been conducive to noticing the small things. Admittedly, she hadn’t been interested in the small things, either. All she had wanted was him. His body. An orgasm.
The memory made her thighs clench and her sex ache.
Isaac lifted a hand and gently cupped her jaw, tracing his thumb along her cheek. The tip of his thumb brushed her lower lashes. He smiled when she blinked. “The way your pupils expand when you’re turned on...”
“Surely they’re not any larger than a dime.”
“Try a pair of Lincolns,” he countered.
“No way.”
“Two nickels, on my honor.”
“Do you always have to be right?”