didn't bend to pick up the spatula. He leaned into the bench, palms
resting on the edge, his back to her. His head drooped between his tense
shoulders.
He swore again. "What's wrong with
you, Lucy? Have you got no shame?"
She swallowed. She hadn't expected this
reaction. Embarrassment, avoidance, but not confrontation. "Shame? Why
should I be ashamed of my body?" Her anger, returning now that the initial
shock dissolved, bubbled to the surface.
"Not of your body. Your body's per—"
He shook his head. "Forget it." He spun the hotplate dial to the Off
position then picked up the spatula.
"No, I won't forget it, Nick." She
strode across the room. "I want an answer. Why should I be ashamed?"
"Don't push it, Lucy."
She placed a hand to his shoulder to get
him to turn around. He wouldn't and she couldn't force him.
"Drop it."
"No." She crossed her arms
beneath her breasts and waited. He'd have to tell her eventually if he wanted
her to move.
"Right. You asked for it." He
half turned but his eyes didn't dip below hers. "You should be ashamed of
your behavior. Nice girls don't go flashing their tits to a guy they just met. Nice
girls don't try to sleep with every guy they meet."
"I never said I was a nice
girl."
"No." A strangled laugh gurgled
in his throat. "I guess not."
"I am what I am, Nick. Don't judge
me because I walk around naked or because I like men."
"Like men! Ha. I think your meaning
of like and everyone else's are a little different."
"That's not my fault."
"No, but it's your problem." He
shook his head and let out a sharp sigh. "Damn it Lucy, don't you know
what people call you? Doesn't that make you feel..." He shrugged, but Lucy
was pretty sure he was about to say 'like a slut'.
"I don't care what other people
think of me." But it sounded hollow. She just wasn't sure anymore. "I
don't walk around naked for other people anyway. Just for you."
"Gee, I feel privileged." But
the upper lip curled into a snarl indicated otherwise. Without looking at her,
he strode out of the kitchen. She heard the bathroom door close and the pipes
groan as he turned on the faucets for the shower.
At least she'd got a reaction. Not the
one she'd wanted, but it was better than the disinterest of the previous night.
Or was it? She couldn't be sure. The
emptiness inside made everything so confusing.
***
The ice-cold water sliced through Nick's
skin, tensing his muscles and slowing the blood in his veins but not quite
dampening his erection. He stayed under another two minutes but when it became
obvious he was stuck with a penis that couldn't forget Lucy, naked, he turned
on the hot tap. He didn't want to die of hypothermia. Not with a woody like
this—the ambulance drivers would be laughing so hard they wouldn't be able to
get him out of the house.
He couldn't believe he'd said what he
had. He'd practically called her a slut to her face. Hadn't he learned from the
last time? What did preaching to her achieve? A big fat nothing. If anything,
it probably made her more determined to prance around naked and get a rise out
of him. Literally.
He groaned and outstretched his arms,
resting his palms against the cool white tiles. He dipped his head and warm
water flowed over his neck and shoulders and down his back, smoothing away the
tension like massaging fingers. He closed his eyes but that wasn't a good idea
because Lucy's naked body appeared, ripe, sensuous and quivering.
She was delicious. A sprinkle of freckles
dotted the skin at her shoulders but everywhere else she was smooth and whiter
than a porcelain doll. But nowhere near as cold. Despite the chill in the
house, her skin looked warm. Her nipples were plump and soft, so kissable. Her
face had been flushed, but with anger not desire.
She was angry with him for pointing out
what other people thought. Why couldn't she see what was wrong with her
behavior? People judged others by what they do—surely she must know that. So
why shoot the messenger?
He swore quietly.
resting on the edge, his back to her. His head drooped between his tense
shoulders.
He swore again. "What's wrong with
you, Lucy? Have you got no shame?"
She swallowed. She hadn't expected this
reaction. Embarrassment, avoidance, but not confrontation. "Shame? Why
should I be ashamed of my body?" Her anger, returning now that the initial
shock dissolved, bubbled to the surface.
"Not of your body. Your body's per—"
He shook his head. "Forget it." He spun the hotplate dial to the Off
position then picked up the spatula.
"No, I won't forget it, Nick." She
strode across the room. "I want an answer. Why should I be ashamed?"
"Don't push it, Lucy."
She placed a hand to his shoulder to get
him to turn around. He wouldn't and she couldn't force him.
"Drop it."
"No." She crossed her arms
beneath her breasts and waited. He'd have to tell her eventually if he wanted
her to move.
"Right. You asked for it." He
half turned but his eyes didn't dip below hers. "You should be ashamed of
your behavior. Nice girls don't go flashing their tits to a guy they just met. Nice
girls don't try to sleep with every guy they meet."
"I never said I was a nice
girl."
"No." A strangled laugh gurgled
in his throat. "I guess not."
"I am what I am, Nick. Don't judge
me because I walk around naked or because I like men."
"Like men! Ha. I think your meaning
of like and everyone else's are a little different."
"That's not my fault."
"No, but it's your problem." He
shook his head and let out a sharp sigh. "Damn it Lucy, don't you know
what people call you? Doesn't that make you feel..." He shrugged, but Lucy
was pretty sure he was about to say 'like a slut'.
"I don't care what other people
think of me." But it sounded hollow. She just wasn't sure anymore. "I
don't walk around naked for other people anyway. Just for you."
"Gee, I feel privileged." But
the upper lip curled into a snarl indicated otherwise. Without looking at her,
he strode out of the kitchen. She heard the bathroom door close and the pipes
groan as he turned on the faucets for the shower.
At least she'd got a reaction. Not the
one she'd wanted, but it was better than the disinterest of the previous night.
Or was it? She couldn't be sure. The
emptiness inside made everything so confusing.
***
The ice-cold water sliced through Nick's
skin, tensing his muscles and slowing the blood in his veins but not quite
dampening his erection. He stayed under another two minutes but when it became
obvious he was stuck with a penis that couldn't forget Lucy, naked, he turned
on the hot tap. He didn't want to die of hypothermia. Not with a woody like
this—the ambulance drivers would be laughing so hard they wouldn't be able to
get him out of the house.
He couldn't believe he'd said what he
had. He'd practically called her a slut to her face. Hadn't he learned from the
last time? What did preaching to her achieve? A big fat nothing. If anything,
it probably made her more determined to prance around naked and get a rise out
of him. Literally.
He groaned and outstretched his arms,
resting his palms against the cool white tiles. He dipped his head and warm
water flowed over his neck and shoulders and down his back, smoothing away the
tension like massaging fingers. He closed his eyes but that wasn't a good idea
because Lucy's naked body appeared, ripe, sensuous and quivering.
She was delicious. A sprinkle of freckles
dotted the skin at her shoulders but everywhere else she was smooth and whiter
than a porcelain doll. But nowhere near as cold. Despite the chill in the
house, her skin looked warm. Her nipples were plump and soft, so kissable. Her
face had been flushed, but with anger not desire.
She was angry with him for pointing out
what other people thought. Why couldn't she see what was wrong with her
behavior? People judged others by what they do—surely she must know that. So
why shoot the messenger?
He swore quietly.
Similar Books
