The truth was, it just hadn't occurred to her. She'd grown up watching her father fend off guys at the bar and had never doubted her own ability to do the same whether she was wearing jeans or a sun dress. It only hit her when Kyouya Ohtori bared over her, seeming somehow larger and longer than he ever appeared to her standing.
Oh...Oooohh...
Well.
"But...you wouldn't have anything to gain, sleeping with me?"
Something registered in his eyes in the dark. For a moment, a panicking section of Haruhi's mind that was miles away from her body thought it might have been lightning, far off the shore still.
Kyouya didn't move. He was so still and poised that they could have been a still-life painting, all shadows and dangerous seduction.
"That's an interesting theory, but for the purpose of this exercise it only applies to me. Try again." He leaned closer, shifting to grip one thin wrist in hands that Haruhi had never realized were so expansive. He could have easily held both of her arms uselessly immobile if that was his plan.
But it wasn't. If it was one thing Haruhi Fujioka knew about Kyouya Ohtori it was nothing he did was thoughtless. And perhaps stating as much would end this exercise in her favor—and wouldn't that be a story to tell the kids? 'The time your mother proved she wasn't a dimwit commoner.'
"Now you're just trying to scare me." Her free hand slid up the crumpled sheets to touch the hand still firmly planted by her head. His fingers twitched reflexively, as if shocked by the soft digits in contact with straining tendons.
"That would be my objective." And in a second Kyouya's eyes went from passive to smoldering, the constantly shifting play of clouds over the moon outside casting his gaze in and out of some fathomless dark. It was almost enough to make Haruhi believe that he really could do everything that darkness promised and more.
And that did scare her. Just a little. She sighed and tapped on the bed twice with her hand the way she'd seen Mori do when he and Hunni sparred in their free time.
"Hai, I get it sempai."
Kyouya grunted and heaved himself off of her, replacing his glasses and positioning the now chilly bath towel over his shoulders. Haruhi sat up, a little surprised that she was allowing herself to be so casual. It was just another thing she'd never thought about—so many times could have left her potentially compromised—and yet she trusted all of them completely.
And you're just going to have to live with that Kyouya-sempai.
"You're very kind, Kyouya. I don't think Tamaki could make me understand--
"But you don't." Kyouya interrupted, "If I didn't have Tamaki to worry about the profit margin for me would have been far more substantial. Until you realize that this is how most men think, you'll always be just a woman." It wasn't coldly that Kyouya stated this, but tiredly, disappointed. As if he had expected something more out of her than to just give in.
Haruhi ran a hand absently through her brown bangs and adjusted her dress. She hadn't even realized that a good deal of it was hitched up past her knee.
"I'm sorry," she said earnestly, "but I was right. You don't have anything to gain which means obviously you're not the one to have this 'exercise' with me."
Kyouya's weight lifted from the bed and he stood half facing her—body rigid and lips set in a tight, near trembling line. The muscles under his skin were so tense he was shaking, although with what it was impossible to tell. Anger? Disappointment? Frustration?
"I see."
There was nothing more to say.