Good answer? That was it? THAT WAS IT? Way to open up, Mal. Inara punched her pillow, stretched her legs out, flipped over. Good answer?

Good what? Her eyelids popped open. Answer?

She sat up, her feet fit the floor. Her chest heaved, she clenched her fists. She wanted an honest response from Mal and she wanted it right now. Why didn’t he ask me to stay? Why did he let me go? Why did I leave?

Inara tied her dressing down shut with an angry yank and stormed down the passageway, but what she saw when she slammed into Mal's quarters stopped her cold. He lay stretched out on his stomach, covered from hips to mid-thigh in nothing but a thin white sheet. Malcom Reynolds was the bane of her existence. He criticized her, demeaned her profession and her position in society. He made her forget her training; control wasn't something she had a great deal of when Mal made her angry. How could anyone love such a maddening man? Why did she?

Her anger dissipated at the sight of his large feet, which hung over the end of the too-small mattress. She approached his inert form, traced the arch of one bare foot with her fingertips, ran them lightly over his heel. Would her touch wake him?

“Mal.” She gently massaged his ankle. “Wake up. We need to talk.”

Mal groaned. His pillow muffled the sound of his sleepy, rumbling voice. "Do we have to discuss this now? Cause I am not wearing a stitch. Shy sure aint something folks know me for."

It’s funny, she thought. Even half asleep, he knows exactly what is on my mind. Inara kept her touch light, teasing. She was tired of fighting it, fighting him. Her fingernails scraped the hairy, rough skin of his calf, skimmed the back of his knee.

"I wanted you to ask me to stay. You didn’t. I'd like to know why." The sheet that rode his hips dipped dangerously low, but not quite low enough.

“Inara?” Suddenly, Mal didn’t sound sleepy in the least. “You’re touching me.”

“It’s about time, don’t you think?” Her fingertips skirted the inside of his thigh. Another inch…

Mal lifted his head off the pillow. “Ok, go ahead. Keep touching me like that. You’ll get your answer. Might not be the one you want, though.”

~ ~ ~

He turned over, taking care to keep the sheet in place, folding his arms behind his head. He watched her with heated intent, the sudden silence between them deafening. Her eyes flashed, signaling her impatience. Instead of responding to his purposeful goading she dropped her dressing gown; it slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet. “I want an answer, Mal. Why didn’t you stop me from leaving?”

Mal’s mouth was bone dry. Was he still dreaming? He felt his groin beginning to tighten. One thing was for damned sure. If this was a dream he didn’t want to wake up.

Inara’s full breasts all but spilled out of her nightdress, which enhanced every one of her curves to riveting detail. She held her head high, tossed flowing dark curls over her shoulder with an artful flip of her head.

“You’ll get your answer.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wanted her now, same as he wanted her then. “Take it off.”

Mal knew she wouldn’t back down. She looked him straight in the eyes and slipped twin straps over her shoulders. His palms itched. He looked his fill and then some as sheer silk slid down her lush body. He slid toward the edge of the bed but remained seated.

She didn’t just walk toward him, she sauntered; each step, one after the other, in a straight line until she was close enough to touch him.

He slid her small, delicate hand into his larger, rougher grip and pulled her closer until she stood between his open legs.

Her rosy nipples were an inch from his open mouth. “You want to know why I didn’t ask you to stay?”

Her hands fell to his shoulders. She leaned forward, encouraging contact. “Yesss….”

He slipped her panties off – she stepped out of them. “Mal…”

His mouth closed around the tip of one breast, then the other. He let his tongue do all the work until each hardened nipple glistened with his efforts. Then he looked up at her. His heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t share, Inara.”