“I don’t know about that.” Shank made a production out of leering at her body.
Allie rolled her eyes. “That was cheesy. I expect better pickup lines out of you.”
He flicked her a sloppy salute. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do better next time, ma’am.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Guilty as charged.” Shank sat on the bed across from Allie.
Allie knew Shank well enough to recognize guilt. Shank could talk through every other emotion, but not guilt. Oh, he’d make some big deal out of how, as a man, he didn’t talk about things, but then he’d talk about them just fine. But let a little guilt creep in about how he hadn’t saved Thompson or about how he’d given up on Jacqs during their last mission from hell, and he shut down like a computer with a control board failure.
She picked at a scab on her ankle, a souvenir from their bar fight, and Shank watched her, his dark eyes following her every move.
“What’s so special about this woman that your mother thinks she’ll keep you away from stealing a ship?” Allie asked, keeping her voice casual.
Shank gazed at her with wide eyes. Given the general expression of panic on Shank’s face, that was a direct hit even if Allie wasn’t sure what she’d hit yet. “I don’t know that she is doing that,” Shank said defensively, but he was a bad liar—at least he was when he tried to lie to Allie. “It might be the only small ship available in the area.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Shank sighed. “No.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Allie leaned toward him, but she didn’t reach out. If they started touching, they were going to kiss, and then they were going to have sex, and then she was going to be utterly distracted. Shank was the only man who had ever made her such a fucking idiot when he bedded her. He’d put his boots under her bunk, and she couldn’t remember what she was doing before he showed up. “Did you have a commitment with her? Were you engaged?”
“What? No!” Shank curled his lips back in disgust.
“Then what else aren’t you telling me?”
He threw both hands up in the air. “I had a sex life before you, you know.”
“I would hope so. I’m horrible with virgins. I develop terminal honesty and end up scarring them for life. Hell, I think one of my early partners has turned asexual.”
Shank ducked his head and gave her one of his boyish smiles, complete with looking at her from under dark lashes.
Allie kept her voice as calm and firm as she could. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The boyish smile vanished, and he blew out a heavy breath. “We did a lot of dynamic stuff.”
That didn’t make sense. Shank had no reason to hide some preference for dynamic sex. “I’ve tied you to the bed once or twice, so...” Allie let her words trail off when she saw the look of supreme guilt that crossed Shank’s face. The silence rose up between them, but Allie waited. Whatever Shank had in his head, it was hurting him to carry it around, and she didn’t know how to reassure him that he could share it. She wasn’t going to hold any old relationship against him. But she’d said that to him so many times in the past that clearly the words weren’t enough.
Allie slid off the bed and moved over to Shank. She sat so close that their knees touched, and then she started rocking side to side, shoving his shoulder so he had to rock with her. “I like you, and you like me. I trusted you to get us off theCandiru, and you trusted me to talk to your mother. And by the way, neither of us hit home runs, but that’s okay. We’re in this together.”
“You’re about as subtle as nuclear ordnance,” Shank said.
“Yeah, well start talking before I do my version of supportive listening. It’s terrifying.”
Shank huffed. “I really don’t know why my mother thinks this would stop me. I mean, Claire isn’t the love of my life. There at the end, I’m pretty sure she had fantasies of killing me.”
Allie’s sarcasm slipped out even if she was trying to be supportive. “That sounds healthy.”
“Yeah.” Shank sighed.
“You were dynamic, huh?” Allie verbally poked, and the tips of Shank’s ears turned pink right on cue. “I bet it was a lot dynamic. I mean, we couldn’t play much on a Command ship, but it would have been nice.” The blush was spreading like a rash and turning Shank’s brown skin even darker. “Wow. That dynamic?” Allie asked.
Shank practically threw himself off the bed and started pacing again. “Yes, that dynamic.” He spit the words out in a tone far more bitter than Allie had ever heard him use.
“Dynamic is good,” Allie reassured him. Shank paced, and Allie’s earlier jealousy of Claire was quickly morphing into a good case of hatred. Whatever had happened, she’d hurt Shank badly.
“I’m not talking dynamic like you and I have played with,” Shank said.
