Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [100]
He was perfectly capable of tying her up and locking her in a closet—all for her own good, he’d say. She wouldn’t mind being locked in, if he was in the closet with her. She stepped out of the shower, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and for a moment she was shocked by what she saw.
She looked different. Healthy and glowing, despite the trauma of the last few days. She looked like someone who’d found what she’d been missing all her life.
Okay, so she’d been stupid enough to fall in love with someone who used sex as a weapon. Fallen in love with a man who’d saved her life countless times, protected her, infuriated her, lied to her, seduced her and given her the best sex she’d ever had.
She could find someone else who was as good in bed as he was. Or at least good enough. Someone who’d had enough practice. But the fact of the matter was, Taka’s finesse in the sack wasn’t just technique. Yes, he knew what to touch, how hard, how soft, how to use his mouth, his hands, his hips, his entire body to bring her shattering pleasure. But deep in her heart she suspected that any man could master any of the same moves and the experience would leave her cold and frustrated. Emotion had nothing to do with sex as far as he was concerned.
Emotion was everything with Summer. And she was enmeshed with Taka, body, mind and soul—addicted to him—and had no idea how she’d ever break away.
There was no way she could change things. She was part of his assignment. She wasn’t insecure enough to think he didn’t find the same kind of pleasure in her body, but he could probably turn that on and off for anyone. Including the woman he was supposed to marry.
Summer would have to learn to live without him, and soon. And like all addictions, the first step to letting go was admitting the habit.
The next step was to get over it.
She felt very strange dressing in Reno’s clothes. She’d lost weight during the last few days, and he liked his jeans as baggy as he liked his leather tight, so she had no trouble pulling them up around her ample American butt. She laughed at the underwear Taka had unearthed—Reno had a secret weakness for tiger stripes and pastels. She put her fancy bra on, wincing slightly at the tenderness in her breasts and then dismissing it as she pulled a T-shirt over her head. It was lime-green, blindingly bright, and said On The Verge Of Destruction. Not exactly her color, but the saying was apt and she didn’t fancy pawing through his clothes to find something more suitable.
She even found a pair of orange sneakers—too big on her, of course, but with a couple of pairs of socks and tying the laces tightly, they’d do. She wasn’t going to be heading into the mountains in those high heels, no matter how effective a weapon they could be.
Of course, Taka didn’t think she’d be heading into the mountains at all. He was about to find out otherwise.
She headed into the kitchen, made herself a bowl of instant miso soup and dished up some rice from the rice cooker. The meal probably wasn’t big on nutrition, but at least it was filling.
In a drawer, she found a paring knife. A nasty little thing more suited for street fighting than kitchen work, but it would do very nicely if Taka made the mistake of trying to abandon her. It would cut through rope or duct tape quite handily.
She heard the door open as she was washing the dishes, but she didn’t turn. Reno no longer scared her—he was trying too hard. And if it was Taka, he’d come up behind her, press his body against hers, and she could lean back, sinking into the heat and strength of him, letting go…
It happened so fast she didn’t have time to react. Something was pressed over her mouth and nose, and she breathed in the stink of it before she could react or lash out. The knife, she thought dizzily. She needed to get to the knife.