Inara had made up her mind. She was tired of Mal mocking her work...mocking her. Time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. She knew that, like clockwork, he'd be in the galley for one last cup of tea, having finished his nightly walkabout of Serenity before turning in.

And sure enough, there he was, headed for his bunk.

Mal came to a sudden halt in the narrow corridor when he saw her. More of her than he'd ever seen before, given the rather revealing dress she was wearing. Sweet Jesus, how did that dress manage to hold up her breasts without her completely tumbling out of it? In all his born days, he'd never understand women's clothing.

"Off on a job then? Or just returnin'?" If all else failed, a bit of mockery would cover up just how badly he wanted to make those magnificent breasts tumble out of that dress and into his hands.

She smiled serenely. "Neither, actually."

"That get-up seems a bit fancy just for lounging about on the boat."

Inara looked down at herself, almost as if she had noticed for the first time just how much of her was on display. "You think so, Captain? Really?"

All wide-eyed innocence as if she had no understanding of her effect on men. On him. Except Mal knew better. Knew what she was playing at.

In the next instant, Inara found herself with her back against the bulkhead, and Mal practically pinning her in place, hands on either side of her shoulders. She could feel hunger and need and lust radiating off him in waves. For the first time, she thought perhaps she'd pushed their give-and-take too far, and swallowed nervously.

Mal leaned forward until his lips were right next to her ear. "I know so, Inara. And I know that you do as well, so don't play the innocent doe with me. It don't suit you."

Inara shifted a bit, uncomfortably, which only served to make Mal press into her more, making his desire abundantly clear. "Mal, please, don't..."

He reached up to finger a soft curl of hair. "Don't what? Don't take what I want? Ain't that what bad men like me are supposed to do, Inara? Unlike your fancy fellas who pretend that's not what they want?"

She was starting to get flushed and dizzy from his nearness. "That's not what it's like."

His hand moved down to gently trace along the neckline of her dress. "More's the pity, Miss Serra. All them fine fine gentlemen wishing to hell they was me right about now, but not havin' the stones to outright take what they want."

She licked her lips. "Mal..."

"Yep, it's a downright dirty shame. But you know what the difference between me and them is?"

"What?" Hoping and fearing he would finish what he had started.

His hand stopped right over the top clasp of her bodice. "That ain’t me. Not now. Not ever."

He stepped back, just as suddenly as he had forced her against the wall, standing with his fists clenched at his side to prevent himself from finishing the job she had started. "Good night, Miss Serra. Pleasant dreams."

He turned to go down the ladder to his bunk. She stood there, not moving, staring at him.

"Mal, I..."

He turned back toward her. "By the way? Nice dress."