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"Why?" he asked, knowing she was trying to hide her scars. Despite the fact her breasts were visible to him through the clear water, she didn't turn her back.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm naked. I'm trying to take a swim. Alone. Do I need to spell it out for you?"
"No, I'm pretty adept at figuring out what someone's thinking." He made no move to leave. Nor was he going to. Morgan Brown needed to come out of hiding. He didn't really know why he felt like her rescuer, and frankly didn't want to delve too deeply into that thought at the moment. All he knew was the little pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit. But there was more he needed to know.
"Apparently you're not as adept as you think. Could I make it any clearer to you?"
Tony tilted his head and admired her breasts. Her nipples pebbled and he couldn't hide his smirk. "It's looking pretty damn clear to me from here, thanks."
She huffed a huge sigh, which only showed off her breasts more. His cock appreciated the view. Clearly it had no intent on deflating any time soon. He ached with the pulsing need to come. Right between the legs of the flaming siren in the pool.
"Tony, go away. Please."
"How did you get those scars, Morgan?"
She froze instantly and stared at him. He waited, then finally she asked in a near whisper. "You saw them?"
He nodded.
"Dammit, I told you to leave me alone!" She swam toward the stairs, but before she could get out he slipped in the water and blocked her exit.
"Don't run. Talk to me."
She shivered and shook her head. The water was warm, the night balmy. She was afraid, but why?
"Get out of my way!"
"No. Tell me what happened to you."
"It's none of your business."
He made a movement toward her and she quickly backed away, splashing water in her wake. She treaded water in the middle of the pool, her eyes wary.
"Morgan, I won't touch you. I promise."
She didn't answer. Somehow he knew she didn't believe him. Then again, what reason would she have to trust him in the first place? He was a stranger to her. A stranger who had already violated her privacy once.
He had to calm her down. He read the panic in her widened eyes, saw the tremors making her shiver. Her breathing was short and rapid, her body full of adrenalin. "Morgan. Relax. I'm going to sit on the stairs here, see?"
As slowly as he could he backed up and sat on the stairs, the water reaching his chest.
But still, she didn't move.
"Tell me what happened to you."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I told you. It's none of your business. My life isn't fodder for some tabloid journalist."
He held up both his hands. "Our conversation tonight is strictly off the record. Nothing we discuss will ever be printed."
She wanted to believe him, he could see it. She sucked in her lower lip and worried it with her teeth. God, the woman really needed to talk to someone.
"Come over here. Sit by me. I won't touch you unless you ask me to. You have all the control, Morgan. Please. Trust me."
Uncertainty crossed her face, then she lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders before swimming quickly toward him.
Having won some internal battle with herself, she stood in front of him, the water barely covering her voluptuous breasts. Despite the fact he itched to reach out for the succulent globes and caress them, he didn't move so much as a muscle.
"What happened to you?" he asked again.
She didn't answer.
"Morgan, I know I've given you no reason to trust me, but have you ever opened up to anyone about where you got those scars?"
"No."
"Then tell me. Take a chance and trust me. I won't print what you tell me. You need to talk to someone."
"Why?" Her eyes still held a hooded wariness that stabbed at his heart. She was like a cornered rabbit and he was filled with the desire to strangle the sonofabitch who'd hurt her.
"It'll help. You carry a fear around with you that closes you off. Do you have any friends on this island you can talk to?"
"No."
"Then talk to me." Trust me. Please, I know I don't deserve it, but trust me.
"I was beaten," she answered quietly. She avoided eye contact and offered a nonchalant shrug.
"Obviously. By whom?"
"My ex-husband."
Tony fought to keep his own breathing under control as a raging desire to kill the man burned within him. "Once?"
She shook her head.
"How often?"
"Frequently."
He closed his eyes for a second, unable to fathom what kind of pain she'd gone through. When he opened them again, she was looking at him.
"How long were you married?"
"Five years."
"And did he beat you from the beginning?"
&nb
sp; Her lips curved into a cynical smile. "No, he didn't start right away. He waited until after the honeymoon."
Rotten, fucking, no good sonofabitch. Tony filed a mental note to somehow, someway, find out who her husband was and make sure he paid, one way or another.
"How did it happen? Didn't you have any signs that he was an abuser?"
"No. He was very sweet to me from the moment we met. The monster didn't show his claws until after the honeymoon."
She spoke as if she were in a trance, turning her gaze somewhere out in the distance toward the ocean. And her body no longer shivered. Instead she stood ramrod straight, her expression cold.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. Then kiss her and make love to her until he melted the ice.
"Why didn't you tell someone?"
"I tried. My parents refused to believe that someone of his background could possibly hurt me. They told me I was being childish and immature, and that whatever had happened needed to stay private between me and my husband."
"You're from a prominent family?"
She nodded, but he'd already surmised that. "I met him at my debutante ball. He was the perfect catch. All the girls wanted him."
"But you got him."
She smirked. "Of course. I was young, naive and believed in love at first sight. I was also aggressive back then, and went after what I wanted. And I wanted him."
"How old were you when you married?"
"Nineteen."
Jesus. Barely out of her childhood and thrust into the arms of Satan.
"Did he abuse you sexually?" Tony couldn't stop the questions from pouring out. Suddenly he needed--had to know everything about her. About that bastard. About what he'd done.
Now that she'd opened the floodgates, Morgan seemed to want to talk about it. But she'd started to shiver again. Before she could answer his last question, he suggested they step out of the pool and dry off.
He handed her a towel and her robe, careful not to touch her. He'd made a promise, and no matter how much he wanted to hold her in his lap and soothe away her pain, he wouldn't.
Not unless she asked.
Tony opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for both of them. Morgan drank hers down quickly, seemingly unaware of what she'd swallowed.
She hadn't answered his question about sexual abuse, and he figured he'd let the wine calm her. And if she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't press her. Not tonight, anyway.
"I used to have fantasies," she said, startling him. She'd been silent for a while and he figured she didn't want to talk anymore tonight.
