Page 10 of Shark’s Pride

“Explain.”

She raised a brow, maybe not appreciating the clipped tone I used, but I refused to budge. This was odd behavior, pretty clearly tied into our reunion—such as it had been—and she owed me more than ten nebulous mumbles about it.

“Listen.” Her shoulders sagged, and she rubbed at her temples. “I don’t want to be the proverbial anchor weighing you down. I know you’re used to just being with a woman and then leaving and not having to look back. You don’t normally have this extra stress the day after.” She dropped her hand with a resigned sigh. “The fortnight after. Whatever.”

“I told you this was going to be different. You’re different. Have you forgotten already?” I caught her off guard at last, making it possible to drag her to me, ruthlessly whumping our bodies together. “Maybe a reminder is in order, Red?”

I didn’t let her get a word in on me. I tucked in with focused intent, running my nose along her jaw to her ear and inhaling her tantalizing fragrance. The smell had haunted me every second we were apart. Even my dreams were filled with the sugar-and-spice aroma that clung to her skin. The woman was invading every aspect of my existence, yet she stood in front of me with that same unnerved look on her face.

Shit. Where was the disconnect?

Something told me it ran deeper than the ten days I had been out of the country.

Much deeper.

“I’m serious, girl.” As I prompted it against the soft curve of her ear, I slid a hand to the front of her throat. I just rested it there, feeling the throbs of her pulse and the anxious undulations of her gulps. My God, how they both turned me on.

“I—I know,” she rasped.

“Then why are we back here?” I charged. “I thought you understood. I’m not fucking around, Abbigail. I want to do this with you.” Maybe a little more than wanted, if I was being honest. “I want to see you. Be with you.” The new resonance in my voice caused her to shiver in my arms. Despite that blatant abetment, I had no idea what else to say from here. I really didn’t know the words that would make her believe I was all-in.

There. I’d said it. Okay, not out loud, but even that silent musing was a bigger step than I’d ever taken with a woman before.

So what now?

Thank God for Pia. At once, the conversation with my sister played back in my mind.

Talk to her, Bas. Be honest with her.

With considerable effort, I raised my head up and away from her skin. “Look at me,” I said quietly but firmly, patiently waiting the few moments it took her to raise her gaze to mine.

The sadness in her stunning greens all but knocked me on my ass.

But before I could put it into words, she was ready with hers. “Damn it, Bas,” she gritted out. “You don’t have to keep doing this, all right?”

She tugged against me now, clearly aiming to free herself from my embrace. I retaliated by tightening my hold. “No, it’s not all right. What the hell? I thought you’d be happy to see me today, like I was to see you. Instead, you look like your puppy got hit by a semi.”

She choked, finally giving in to the eye roll.

“Calling it like I see it,” I countered. “Look, I know the past ten days were shitty, but it wasn’t a situation I could control. You get this, right? You have to do this all the time with your own business. I simply had to handle mine halfway across the world. The phone service in the remote parts of Malaysia we were in was so bad—which I tried explaining to you repeatedly.”

“I know,” she interjected. “I know, Bas. But—”

“I even asked Grant to get in touch with you on my behalf. And trust me, giving that bastard your number all but killed me.”

She grinned at that. While her mirth should’ve lightened my heart, my jealousy only stabbed deeper.

A low growl rolled up from the back of my throat. “Was he inappropriate with you?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just that…”

I pushed in close to her again. “Just that what?”

“It’s kind of endearing when you get all worked up like this.” She shrugged coyly. “It’s nice, I guess? That you would be jealous.”

She drifted off as if she caught herself saying something she shouldn’t—leaving me in a huger heap of bewilderment. Christ, I felt like a yo-yo. She wasn’t an obligation, but she liked that I was jealous. Up. Down. She wasn’t an anchor, but she loved the way I was feeling possessive and touching her. Up. Down.

Maybe it was time to change the subject. “Did you get the flowers?” As I asked it, I finally let her free from my grip.