Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 151469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“Where are you? You should have said, I would have chartered a flight for you.”
I smile, looking out of the window at the shiny private jet we just disembarked. “It’s fine.” James upgraded us. Into mafia territory. And yet, undeniably, I feel safe. Did at Casa Black, and now here in St. Lucia.
“So where are you?”
“Somewhere quiet.”
“With him, obviously,” he says, and I look at James. What happened when I was out cold for a week? Something tells me my father and boyfriend didn’t bond.
“With James, yes.”
“I see.” He coughs. “Well, enjoy. Call me when you’re home. We still need to do that lunch. Just the two of us.” He hangs up, and I shake my head.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
James reaches over and takes my hand. “Still got daddy issues?” he asks, and I laugh under my breath. “I don’t want to be an issue for my kids.”
I swing my eyes his way. Where did that come from?
“My father was a drug tycoon, yours is a conceited wanker. Do you think we’ll be shit parents?”
My mouth falls open to speak, but I can’t find the right words. Something tells me he’s thought about this a lot. I, however, have pushed our loss into a safe box in my brain, never to be opened. It’s self-preservation. It’s all I can do because the alternative would be bloodshed, and one murderer in this relationship is enough.
What the fuck am I thinking?
I force a smile and look away. “Can we go swimming in the sea?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer the question that was plucked from thin air in an attempt to change the subject. He’s still thinking. I’m not sure I like James on vacation.
The beach hut. Biggest understatement of the century. The only thing that makes this four-bed, three-bathroom abode a hut is the pure-white wooden-slatted exterior. There’s a veranda, an outside kitchen, a dunking pool, and a private path to the beach. But however large and luxurious, it has nothing on the monster villa at least half a mile up the beach. It has to be Danny Black’s. Secluded. Private.
Alive.
I drop my glasses back to my nose and rest back on my elbow. James is in the water again. For hours now, he’s swam, following the line of the coast as far as he can, back and forth. The water is glistening, the earlier storm passed, but the scent of rain still hangs thick in the air. The sun is warm on my skin. The sand soft under my back. I cast my eyes down my bathing suit. Not a bikini. I can’t see myself wearing one of those ever again. It’s just another scar to cover. But the mental scars? Will they ever be gone?
And will this nightmare ever end?
I breathe in the sea air and cast my eyes across the horizon. There’s nothing for as far as the eye can see. I can hear no traffic, no people, just the lapping of small waves onto the shore and the light whistle of the breeze. We could stay here. Maintain this peace, this nothingness. Just be.
I sigh, content, and search for James again. He’s no longer swimming. Now, he’s wading out of the sea. I sit up a little, resting back on my hand, and admire the sight. His tight swim shorts. His epic chest. His rough face. I’ve never seen him look so rested. So light.
When he reaches the shore, he uses his foot to pat around on the sand, and I frown, wondering what he’s doing. He drops to his knees, lays his forearms on the sand, and I watch as every muscle in him tenses as he slowly straightens his body until he’s vertical. Still. Steady.
Stability.
Focus.
I smile and get to my feet, cursing under my breath at the pull in my tummy and the ache in my arm, and pad through the sand to him, approaching quietly. I circle his upside-down form, taking in every breathtaking inch of him. His back the most. The damage he sustained trying to save my mom’s life. Saving me.
He’s still saving me.
There’s always been a connection between us. Something insane and unfathomable, but this scar and how he come to have it propels our connection into another realm. Unbreakable.
It’s a beautiful notion.
I reach his front and lower to my stomach, resting down gently, propping my chin on my palm, studying his serene face, my cast placed awkwardly to the side. His lashes flicker a fraction, his lips not smiling but not straight either. Even upside down, he’s wildly beautiful. Then his lips quirk and mine follow. One eye opens. And with precision and little effort, his straight, lean body, starts to lower over me until his front comes to settle on my back. He buries his face in my neck and inhales, and I rest my cheek on the warm sand.