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“And if I decide I want to leave?” she challenged quietly, meeting my gaze without flinching.
My lips pressed to a thin line. “You’re mine. You don’t have a choice in that. You don’t get to leave me. I thought we settled that last night.”
Her lashes lowered, hiding her eyes from me. The loss of our connection made something twist in my chest. I curled two fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face to mine.
“Do you want to swim?” I asked, trying to keep the anger from my tone. She had to know that I did care about her preferences. Suddenly, I realized that I wanted her to be happy with me, despite my ingrained hatred.
Her dark eyes met mine, hesitant. “You really want me to choose?”
“Yes.” She could make her own choices.
She just couldn’t choose to run away.
“Okay, then.” She set her book down. “I’ll get back to Heathcliff and Cathy later. I’ve read Wuthering Heights before, anyway.”
“You’ve already read it?”
“Yeah. It’s a classic.” She pushed up onto her feet and reached for the top button of the shirt that covered her.
I stood quickly, catching her hand. “Leave it on.”
“I thought we were going to swim?”
“We are. But no one is going to see you in that bikini.” I’d asked Mateo to buy all the clothes we’d need to pose as tourists before we’d left Medellín. I’d also asked him to buy sexy lingerie for Valentina to wear for me.
He seemed to be very fucking confused, because he’d bought a swimsuit that barely covered her ass. I wanted her to wear skimpy underwear for me to enjoy. Just me. In private.
A little wrinkle appeared in her forehead again. “Because of the welts?” she asked, referring to the marks my belt had left on her thighs.
I closed the short distance between us, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into me. “Because no one looks at you but me,” I declared fiercely.
“Oh,” she said on a little puff of air. Her head was tipped back, her lips parted. I wondered if they were as soft as I remembered.
I stepped away in a jerky movement, severing the intense moment.
“Come on,” I ordered, taking her hand and tugging her toward the back of the boat. “Let’s get in the water. It’s too hot.” Without the breeze created by the forward motion as we sailed, the tropical atmosphere was almost oppressive. It didn’t help that Valentina’s nearness made my body burn with desire.
We reached the stern, passing Luis and Manuel on our way. The captain tipped his head at me in a polite nod. The young man kept his eyes on his fishing pole. Neither of them looked at Valentina.
The slight tension that had gripped my shoulders eased. Violence brewed just under my skin, my maddened possessiveness threatening to burst forth at the first perceived threat to my complete ownership of the woman at my side.
She paused at the back of the boat, studying the sandy ocean floor that was visible through the clear blue water. “I think it’s too shallow to dive in.”
“We’re not at the pool, Miss Perfect,” I teased. Valentina had always been a strong swimmer, and she’d taken our competitions in my father’s pool seriously when we were teenagers. “Just jump.”
A strange, giddy excitement rushed through me. I shot her a wicked smile before launching myself off the back of the boat, curling my knees up to my chest to create a huge splash when I hit the water.
My toes touched the sand, and I kicked up to the surface. I smoothed my wet hair back from my forehead, pushing the sodden strands out of my eyes so I could look up at her. She stood at the stern, her mouth gaping in shock. Her hair was drenched, too. I’d caught her with a solid wave when I’d jumped in. The shirt she wore suddenly revealed far more than it covered, the wet material turning translucent and clinging to her curves.
Before I could command her to join me in the ocean, her dark eyes glinted with a mischievous light I hadn’t seen in years. She jumped, curling her slight body to return my splash. A deluge of water smacked into my face, blinding me for a few seconds.
Spluttering, I wiped at my eyes. I heard her melodic giggle before I could see her again. The pure, sweet sound made something sharp and hungry stir in my gut. I reached for her, but more water hit me before I could get my bearings.
She laughed again, and my warning growl was ruined by my low chuckle.
I blinked hard, ignoring the sting of salt in my eyes as I searched for her. She blurred into my vision, and I grabbed at her arm before she could splash me again. She shrieked when my fingers dug into her flesh, pulling her through the water to tuck her tightly against me. I held her close, caging her in as she smacked at my chest and fought for freedom. Her sharp cries lilted with laughter, not distress. We’d played games like this often when we were younger. I’d become addicted to the sweet torture of holding her soft, struggling body while denying my feral desires for her.
