Chapter 18
She lay awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how she could fix this. A heavy sigh as she rolled onto her side, staring at the door. She could understand why he would think that. Hell, she did feel dirty because of what he'd done. She didn't hate him or blame him for that feeling. She'd just never done that before, and it felt weird. Her eyes closed as she recalled the previous night's events, suddenly feeling cold and empty in her bed, all by herself. He was awake, she knew. She'd always known he would never forgive himself if he did anything to hurt her. He'd been so worried after their first workout left her so beat up. A touch of a smile, but it fell quickly.
Her feet carried her silently across the floor. She held her breath after the door clicked open, waiting. She crept the short distance down the hall, hand hovering above the knob on his door. Scrounging up all the courage she could find, she turned the handle and pushed into the room, just standing in the doorway. The glow of his eyes flitted over her, and then disappeared. She heard the sheets as he moved, probably shifting onto his side to face away from her as she walked to the side of his bed. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and lifted the covers, slipping under them and onto the bed next to him. The audible hitch in his voice told her she was right – he'd turned onto his side to face the wall. She scooted closer to him, using the heat of his body as a guide. Her arm looped around his side, and she pulled herself against his back, molding her body to him, feeling him tense. He felt her lips press against the back of his neck, and then her cheek against his shoulder blade.
"Riddick?" No answer. She sighed, pressing her face harder into his back. Her hand tightened on his stomach as she gave him a squeeze intended to be a one-armed hug. "Will you look at me?" Still no answer. "Please?" Nothing. She inhaled deeply, breathing him in. His foot started to jiggle back and forth as she drew imaginary patterns on his belly, smiling at the thought of starting to get to him. She threw a leg over him, pulling herself over his body and settling right in front of him. His eyes were still closed, but he knew how close she was to him, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to lean forward just a little and kiss her. She inched forward, moving her shoulder under his arm and pressing against it, moving it under her head, bringing her face just a bit closer to his. Her hand slid up his chest and around his neck as she closed the distance between them, expecting him to kiss her back, but he didn't. She didn't give up, running her tongue along his lower lip, then gently taking it between her teeth. He inhaled sharply, but still didn't give in. She kissed both eyelids, his nose, and then his cheek before returning to his lips, but he didn't respond. This was a new challenge, and she was starting to enjoy it in an odd way. She knew he was restraining himself, and she was determined to break him. Her lips trailed down the side of his neck, twisting into a wicked smile before she bared her teeth and bit into his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. He let out a roar, pulling back from her, but she only smiled down at him sweetly. "Does this mean I have to bite you to get you to talk to me?"
"What the hell's wrong with you?" She feigned an apologetic look, sticking her lip out in an exaggerated pout.
"Aww," she whined, "let me kiss it and make it better for you." His eyebrow rose, but for some reason, the look in her eyes prevented him from moving away. Her lips settled lightly on the offended flesh. "I didn't bite you that hard," she commented, pausing before closing her teeth lightly on his earlobe and dragging them down until there was no more flesh left. He held his breath, keeping in the growl threatening to break. She let her lips barely touch his, just enough for him to know they were there. Neither moved, both waiting on the other. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and it was all over. He let out an explosive groan as he gave in, wrapping an arm around her waist as their lips crashed together in a frenzied, demanding kiss. She smiled against him, flattening a hand against his chest to push him away. He moaned in protest, letting his eyes open. "I win," she said, smiling slyly as she quirked an eyebrow.
"Only because I let you," he retorted. She shook her head, making her smile drop as she flopped over onto her side. "Don't play with me, Jack," he warned.
"And here I thought I'd gotten to you," she complained. She felt the bed move as he did, feeling him hover over her side.
"You did." She grinned wickedly as she turned back to him, looking up into his eyes. But her smile fell quickly at the seriousness of his face. "And that's the only way anything is ever going to happen again." Her brows furled. "I'm not making another move until you make me," he continued. "I could never forgive myself if I ever thought I'd forced this."
"You haven't forced anything," she said quietly, turning back to him. She pulled him onto his side to face her and buried her face in his neck, planting little kisses here and there. "And I'm sorry I made you think that," she added. His arm wrapped tightly around her, holding her as close to him as he thought he could without breaking her in half.
"So what now?" he asked quietly, pulling her into the crook of his arm as he rolled onto his back. She shrugged, settling her head against his shoulder as she stifled a yawn. He toyed with her hair, slowly lulling her into sleep.
The sexual banter stopped. Completely. It had been three chronological weeks since their encounter, and, though they shared his bed, nothing happened. It was as though the tension and curiosity had been relieved and no longer existed.
"Jack!" She nearly fell out of the chair. He was down in the cargo hold, tinkering with God knew what, but his yell sounded like he was right behind her, screaming her name at the top of his lungs. She gathered herself and ran down the stairs to see what had happened.
"What?"
"I need you to run to the store for me." Her eyebrow rose.
"And you couldn't just walk up the fucking stairs and talk to me like a normal human being instead of scaring the piss outta me?" He grinned wickedly. She looked him up and down, scrutinizing. "You look like you're in good enough shape to go yourself, asshole." His eyebrow arched, the grin remaining, and he returned her assessing gaze.
"So do you." Her scowl deepened.
"Why should I go when you're the one that fucked up whatever you're holding together in there?" His smile dropped.
"What the fuck makes you think I fucked it up in the first place?" he demanded.
"This is you we're talking about, Riddick."
"And your point would be…?"
"Forget it. What am I getting?" she asked with a sigh.
"I'll go. Never mind."
"No, you got me out of my chair to come down here and find out what the fuck you did to yourself, so I'll fucking go. What do you need?" she retorted, the agitation returning to her voice.
"Why don't we both go?" he suggested. She shook her head.
"You're the one with a fuckin' bounty on your head. I'll go." He stood there for a moment, pondering that remark. It puzzled him. "What do you want me to get?"
"I need a box of three inch screws and a fan blade for the air conditioner motor," he said finally, hand still stuck in the metal box. No wonder it'd gotten so hot on the main deck. She started back up the stairs.
"Yeah, well," she muttered to herself, "I need an eight inch screw and a post-sex cigarette, but you don't see me complaining about it." She knew he heard her. She didn't know why she'd said it. Something about the way he looked with some grease smeared on his face in a black wifebeater and coveralls unbuttoned and hanging off his waist. Maybe the tension really wasn't gone.
She grabbed her bag and headed out the side door, hopping down the four foot distance to the ground with a grunt and started off. Good thing the shop was just a few blocks away from the dock.
Riddick still stared up at the top of the steps, wondering what that comment was all about. Things had seemed to return to a platonic nature, but evidently not. He mentally kicked himself. He shook his head and adjusted the pants that seemed to have shrunk at least a couple of sizes in a few seconds. A heavy sigh, and back to work.
Jack smirked as she walked through the aisles of the store, wondering what would happen when she got back. She'd known he'd hear her, but she didn't know if he would just dismiss it. It surprised her a little that she hoped he didn't. She picked out what she needed and headed back to the ship, hoisting herself back through the side door, which had been left open just enough for her to coax it open with her fingers. After she dropped a couple of newly purchased items on the kitchen table, she jogged down the stairs, bag in hand, and plopped in the floor at his feet, holding the bag up.
"Get it?" he asked, rummaging through the bag. She nodded. "Good." She watched him fiddle with the air conditioner for a while, both silent except for his intermittent utterances when his screwdriver slipped and he banged a knuckle. Each time, she smiled, but didn't say anything.
"What's wrong with it?" He just shrugged. "Is this one of those moments where you just want to play with something to see if you can make it work better or was it actually failing to do the job?" He snickered. "What?" she asked, a sincerely confused expression on her face.
"That could be taken several ways, Jack," he said quietly, the smirk still remaining.
"I meant the air conditioner," she said flatly.
"I think it's starting it's slow, painful journey toward its end," he said with a sigh.
"How morbid of you," she quipped. He smirked.
"You know me."
"So do you just have a fascination with death or is there an actual reason for your extensive rap sheet?" He paused, screwdriver hovering mid-turn, and looked down at her, his face unreadable. She shrugged, as though they were talking about the weather. "Just curious."
"I'm good at it," he said quietly.
"Granted," she said slowly, nodding her head to the side, "but is that it?" He glanced down at her again, quickly returning his attention to the task at hand. "I mean, did they all deserve to die?"
"Most of them, I guess." This conversation was heading down a very uncomfortable path.
"You guess?" He sighed, dropping the screwdriver and rubbing his forehead with a grubby hand.
"Is there a point to this conversation, Jack?"
"Just asking," she said with a shrug. He stared into the air conditioner box for a while before picking up the screwdriver again and going back to work.
"I did what I had to do, and let's just leave it at that," he said, hoping she caught the hint to end this line of questioning.
"What do you want for dinner?" she asked. He let out a breath of relief and simply shrugged. "Guess it'll be a surprise, then." He glanced at her, noting a sly tone in her voice.
"Why don't we go out tonight?" he asked quietly.
"Whatever you want to do," she said, standing and stretching. She noticed his hungry stare as she lifted her arms over head, exposing just a little flesh, and tried not to grin. Definitely considered the comment, she thought with a mental smirk. "You get the shower first."
"You go ahead," he offered. She shook her head.
"You smell worse." His eyebrow rose, but she only smiled sweetly. "I'm gonna go finish some programming shit I started before you scared the piss outta me." He nodded with a slight smile, and she headed back to the cockpit. He got fed up with the damn thing soon enough, and left everything out so he could finish when they got back, heading upstairs into the bathroom for a shower – a cold one. Once he was out, he let her know he was done and headed into his room to change. She showered quickly and did the same, and they left for dinner. "So where are we going?" she asked, strolling along side him, the sunset casting an eerie glow.
"You'll see," he answered quietly. She scowled, but didn't ask again. He led her down the street a ways, finally ducking into a little bar and grill. Dark inside, and plenty of shined eyes. She slid into the booth, and he sat across from her, watching her eyebrow raise as she glanced around. "Miner town," he explained, sending her a look. She nodded, glancing over the menu. He paused for a moment when she ordered alcohol, but let it slide.
For once, their outing, which was much longer than any other trip they'd taken into civilization since nearly being caught on Kallipolis, went without a hitch, and after paying, they headed back to the ship full and satisfied.
"It's nice out," Jack observed quietly, shifting her course to walk closer to him. He nodded, glancing up at the sky and back down at her.
"Yep." She smirked.
"The man of few words."
"Yep," he repeated. She snickered, giving in and slipping her arm under his, wrapping a hand around his bicep.
"I had a good time tonight," she continued. He smiled, untangling his arm from her grasp and wrapping it around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.
"Me too." He glanced down at her looking up at him."
"What, no 'yep' this time?"
"Nope." She laughed, sliding her arm around his waist and hooking her thumb in a belt loop.
"It's odd," she said quietly.
"What is?"
"Acting like normal people." He didn't say anything, so she continued. "Going to a restaurant, walking home," she paused, a goofy smile taking over, "sharing a sweet embrace under a cool evening sky." His shoulders shook with his laughter. "Kidding," she added with a snicker. "I'm not getting all sappy on you or anything."
"Well, that's a relief," he snorted, rewarded with a light jab to the side. He reached out and entered the code to lower the hatch to the cargo hold, stepping onto the ramp to head inside, but she stayed behind, the thumb she'd snuck into his belt loop stopping him in his tracks. "What?" he asked, a concerned feeling growing.
"No good night kiss?" she asked with a slight pout. His eyebrow rose, but he didn't move. She stared up at him, finally giving in and closing the space between them, leaning up on her toes to press her lips to his in a short, gentle kiss before walking past him and up the stairs. He stood there for a moment, a small smile playing on a corner of his mouth. After a moment, he closed the hatch and went up the stairs, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.
He stopped in the doorway, noticing something on the table, a grin growing as he continued forward. A pack of cigarettes was placed in the middle of the table, and an eight inch screw was lying on top of it.