BDP43
Ian followed Moira's gaze to the side. Casca had grabbed, none to gently, the last of the women in the group. She was frightened of the large man, but she still struggled against his hold. Spirited as well as beautiful, Nottingham thought. She was like a kitten spitting at a bulldog, and having about as much effect. He was moving forward before he realized it, some instinct prompting him to protect the overmatched young woman.
He froze as Moira moved between Casca and the rest of the room. Her back was to him now, but Ian could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was not going to let Casca by her. Even though he had been moving to do the same thing, his first thought was 'I can't believe she's going to fight him over a stranger.' Especially considering the way Moira felt about anyone who would sell not only themselves but also their unborn children.
"Moira," He opened his mouth to tell her not to do it, to remind her that the girl was not worth it, and closed it with a snap. All the other members of his unit were already paired off. That made the brunette the eleventh woman. Ian had made it very clear that he had no intention of fornicating with one of the prostitutes. Had Casca brought her anyway, thinking to test his resolve?
It might have even worked, if Ian had not been with Moira. Watching the others touch their women, to breathe air scented with musk.oh yes, the fine-boned beauty that was still trying to pull free of Casca could have tempted him. There was something about her that tugged at him. Not like the way he felt about Moira, but his body had definitely taken an interest.
Instantly he felt ashamed. How could he feel desire for another woman? Ian closed his eyes for a long moment, fighting to understand where this impulse had come from. It felt horribly alien. There was no tenderness or affection accompanying the feeling, just raw lust. It reminded him of the way he felt when he went after Beck, like he was overcome by sensation, unable to temper his actions with rational thought.
Was this part of the primitive behavior that the Dragons had been warned they would begin experiencing? Ian concentrated on Moira's back, changing the focus of the unwanted desire pulsing through his frame. He looked at her throat, remembered biting it as he held her to the shower wall, thrusting into her slick flesh. He could see, very faintly, the edge of a bruise peeking over the high collar of the turtleneck she had worn under her lab coat.
What would Moira do if she knew about the way he felt? Would she reject him? He knew how he felt about the idea of Moira having lustful thoughts about another man. Just the concept alone made him furious and sick. How much worse would she feel if she knew that he had thought about sex with another woman?
Ian was torn between telling her, in case it was a sign of abnormal cranial activity, and keeping his silence, in case it wasn't. He knew that Irons had arrangements with several different women, some at the same time. The idea had always appalled Ian, although he was careful to keep those feelings from showing in his face and tone. It was not his place to criticize his father.
"I don't care what kind of paperwork she signed, or what her job description is. No means no. It's a very simple word, two letters, sounds like, NO!" Moira had moved into Casca's personal space, firing off her retort practically in his face.
"Halt's maul! Listen you obstinate, puritanical, strega, it is none of your business. Your job is to work on the project, not make moral decisions for das sind Meerschweine." Casca's English wasn't the only thing slipping. His face was red, and a muscle was ticking under his right eye. The man was only moments away from going ballistic.
How had it gotten so far so fast? Ian realized that he must have missed several minutes of the conversation while fighting with himself. Determined not to get distracted again, he moved forward to try and defuse the situation, and to protect Moira if that failed. The argument they were having was pointless anyway.
Surely Casca could be made to see that he had no intention of having sex with the other woman. Even if Ian did not have the prior stricture against sex; he had told Casca he did not want a prostitute. A great many years had gone into forging his will until it ruled the body, the body did not rule him.
Ian followed Moira's gaze to the side. Casca had grabbed, none to gently, the last of the women in the group. She was frightened of the large man, but she still struggled against his hold. Spirited as well as beautiful, Nottingham thought. She was like a kitten spitting at a bulldog, and having about as much effect. He was moving forward before he realized it, some instinct prompting him to protect the overmatched young woman.
He froze as Moira moved between Casca and the rest of the room. Her back was to him now, but Ian could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was not going to let Casca by her. Even though he had been moving to do the same thing, his first thought was 'I can't believe she's going to fight him over a stranger.' Especially considering the way Moira felt about anyone who would sell not only themselves but also their unborn children.
"Moira," He opened his mouth to tell her not to do it, to remind her that the girl was not worth it, and closed it with a snap. All the other members of his unit were already paired off. That made the brunette the eleventh woman. Ian had made it very clear that he had no intention of fornicating with one of the prostitutes. Had Casca brought her anyway, thinking to test his resolve?
It might have even worked, if Ian had not been with Moira. Watching the others touch their women, to breathe air scented with musk.oh yes, the fine-boned beauty that was still trying to pull free of Casca could have tempted him. There was something about her that tugged at him. Not like the way he felt about Moira, but his body had definitely taken an interest.
Instantly he felt ashamed. How could he feel desire for another woman? Ian closed his eyes for a long moment, fighting to understand where this impulse had come from. It felt horribly alien. There was no tenderness or affection accompanying the feeling, just raw lust. It reminded him of the way he felt when he went after Beck, like he was overcome by sensation, unable to temper his actions with rational thought.
Was this part of the primitive behavior that the Dragons had been warned they would begin experiencing? Ian concentrated on Moira's back, changing the focus of the unwanted desire pulsing through his frame. He looked at her throat, remembered biting it as he held her to the shower wall, thrusting into her slick flesh. He could see, very faintly, the edge of a bruise peeking over the high collar of the turtleneck she had worn under her lab coat.
What would Moira do if she knew about the way he felt? Would she reject him? He knew how he felt about the idea of Moira having lustful thoughts about another man. Just the concept alone made him furious and sick. How much worse would she feel if she knew that he had thought about sex with another woman?
Ian was torn between telling her, in case it was a sign of abnormal cranial activity, and keeping his silence, in case it wasn't. He knew that Irons had arrangements with several different women, some at the same time. The idea had always appalled Ian, although he was careful to keep those feelings from showing in his face and tone. It was not his place to criticize his father.
"I don't care what kind of paperwork she signed, or what her job description is. No means no. It's a very simple word, two letters, sounds like, NO!" Moira had moved into Casca's personal space, firing off her retort practically in his face.
"Halt's maul! Listen you obstinate, puritanical, strega, it is none of your business. Your job is to work on the project, not make moral decisions for das sind Meerschweine." Casca's English wasn't the only thing slipping. His face was red, and a muscle was ticking under his right eye. The man was only moments away from going ballistic.
How had it gotten so far so fast? Ian realized that he must have missed several minutes of the conversation while fighting with himself. Determined not to get distracted again, he moved forward to try and defuse the situation, and to protect Moira if that failed. The argument they were having was pointless anyway.
Surely Casca could be made to see that he had no intention of having sex with the other woman. Even if Ian did not have the prior stricture against sex; he had told Casca he did not want a prostitute. A great many years had gone into forging his will until it ruled the body, the body did not rule him.