She glared up at me, that fire sparking back in her eyes at me calling her tiny.
That’s my girl.
“I’ll show you,” I promised. “I’ll wear you down, I’ll get past all those goddamned walls you can’t stop building, and I’ll earn your trust…and your heart.”
Her lips parted, and her eyes went liquid.
I lifted one hand to her cheek and stroked the softness of her skin, resolve filling every single one of the holes I’d felt since I’d left her. I felt whole, determined, and strong enough to be whatever she needed.
“I’m still considering my options,” she whispered, letting me know that I might have gotten close to her defenses, but she wasn’t tearing them down yet.
Then I conquered my own desire, and instead of kissing her lips, I brushed mine against her cheek. “Consider, if that’s what you need to realize that there’s nothing in the world like what we can have together. Have a nice rest of your date.”
Then I walked away, but I felt her eyes follow me past the other girls and out the door.
She’d better remember what I’d just told her, because I meant every word.
And I was ready to prove it.
Chapter Eighteen
Rachel
At Sea
I wanted to die. Hell, I’d already sent up a few prayers with that request. The tile of the bathroom floor was cool against my cheek, and I tried to concentrate on that sensation instead of the hell that was going on in my stomach.
“Rachel?” Penna asked through the door. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“No,” I grumbled. “But thank you.”
“Are you sure? I have to head to class, but I don’t want to leave you here.”
Class? What time was it? The nausea had struck as I’d left the club not long after Landon professed his intentions, and the puking had started soon after.
“I’m okay,” I promised, watching the contents of the glass of water I’d poured myself rise and fall with every freaking wave. “Can you make the boat stop rocking?”
“I wish. Hold on, someone’s here.”
I heard her shuffle away, finally in a weight-bearing cast. A minute of muffled voices later, she was back at the door.
“Rachel, Landon’s here.”
“Great. Tell him to go away.” There was no chance I was letting him in here. Not when I could barely move, and I was pretty sure there was vomit in my hair.
“Not happening,” Landon said through the door.
“Trust me, you don’t want to come in here.”
He juggled the door handle. “Unlock it, Rach.”
“No. Trust me, I’m saving you.”
“How long has she been like this?” he asked.
“Since last night,” Penna answered. “So about fourteen hours, give or take?”
“For fuck’s sake,” he growled. The handle moved again, then the door popped open. “Rachel…” Landon sighed as he hit his knees in front of me, gently lifting me into his lap.
“How did you get in?”
“It’s a bathroom door. Not Fort Knox.” His hand swept across my forehead. “You’re all clammy. Is it something you ate?”
“I don’t think so,” I said as my stomach rolled again. “I just…I need the boat…” Oh God. No. My mouth filled with saliva and I bolted off Landon’s lap, lunging for the toilet. “Get. Out,” I told him, my voice echoing strangely in the bowl.
“I’m not leaving you.”
He rubbed my back, and within seconds, I was heaving, acid burning my throat as my stomach emptied itself of bile. Not like I’d eaten anything… At just the thought of food, my belly rebelled again, my abs tensing with every dry heave.
“You’re seasick,” he said as I flushed the toilet.
“Bingo.” I struggled to my feet and then swished with the water, spitting out the vileness that had taken up residence in my mouth. I braced my hands on the edge of the sink and glanced quickly at the mirror before looking away.
I looked like I’d been run over by the freaking cruise ship that was causing my misery.
“It’s just because we’re on the open ocean. The waves are a lot bigger,” Landon explained, reaching around me to wet a washcloth.
“Not helping,” I muttered.
He wrung out the blue terry cloth and then wiped my face. The cool water against my flushed skin was heaven sent. “How about you go lie down on the couch? I’ll open the sliding glass door and let some fresh air in.”
“I don’t want to move.”
“It smells like someone died in here, and then someone ate that something before throwing it up.” He crinkled his nose. “I think I know just what you need.”
Without giving me a chance to protest, he lifted me in his arms. My head fell to that magical spot on his chest, where I tucked in perfectly under his collarbone. “You shouldn’t be carrying me.”
“Why not?” We headed down the hallway, Landon pausing to brace himself as we hit a bigger wave.
“Because I smell.”
“Yes.”
We passed the bar and the dining room table.
“I have puke in my hair.”
“Yes.” He gently laid me down on the leather sofa, propping a pillow under my head. “I’ll still carry you.”
My stomach pitched, and I drew my knees to my chest. “Stop being nice. It’s easier to stay away from you when you’re cocky.”