“You may be okay making your last stand on this island, but I’m not okay walking away and letting you die here.”
“I’m not going to die here because it’s not going to get that bad.”
“Then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t stay, too.” I bump my chin up because we’ve slowly been inching closer to one another and now we’re practically standing chest to chest. That thick beard of his covers most of his face, making him look rough and wild.
“I’m going to say this one more time, Peanut. It’s not safe for you to stay here.”
“If it’s safe enough for you, then it’s safe enough for me.”
He steps even closer, his gaze dropping to my mouth. “You didn’t ask why it’s not safe for you here.”
I open my mouth to respond, then snap it shut as heat surges through me. Despite everything—the circumstances, my exhaustion, that I know this man doesn’t like me—my clit pulses to life. I swallow. “Okay, why isn’t it safe for me?”
His gaze drops again, this time from my lips to my tits, which are a scant inch from brushing against his chest, before returning to my eyes. “I’ve been alone on this island a long time. And you are…” He pauses, swallowing, before bringing his left hand up to one of my braids and giving it a tug that is slow, but firm. Releasing a sound that is almost a chuckle, but not quite, he finishes. “Well, you know what you look like.”
My breath catches, and I feel myself sway closer to him. Or maybe he’s pulling me closer, since he’s still got my braid in his hand. That pulse in my clit graduates to a heavy throb that drenches my panties.
Holy cow.
This man, my husband, is sex on a stick. And the look he’s giving me says he knows exactly how to use that stick.
And, yeah, I have just enough working brain cells to realize how bad a metaphor that is, but not enough to care. All of those not-working brain cells—as well as every other cell in my body—are ready to find out exactly what he means.
But…oh, God, I do not want to be rational here…but…the remaining functional brain cells I have damn near stage a riot.
I force a step back. Force myself to think through this logically.
Jonah—a man of few words, unless he’s talking about turtles—just said a hell of a lot without saying anything at all.
He implied a lot. That it’s been a long time since he’s had sex. That he finds me attractive. That I’m somehow in danger because of that combination.
My logical brain ruthlessly shoves aside my body’s response to his nearness and quickly finds the lies behind those implications.
First off, while he has been—mostly—alone on this island, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had sex. There are half a dozen other islands within an hour or so of Libélula, several of which have resort towns and plenty of tourists. He and I never discussed or agreed upon exclusivity as part of our marriage. He’s been free to sleep with whomever he wants. But ultimately, his celibacy or lack thereof is irrelevant, because…
Secondly, I know he doesn’t find me attractive. There are a lot of things I don’t know about this man I’m married to, but I know that. And, perhaps, more importantly…
Thirdly, I don’t believe for a second that Jonah would hurt me.
Maybe it’s naïve of me. After all, he’s a former SEAL. And a sniper at that. So chances are pretty good he’s killed people—though, obviously, I would never ask for details. But Sissy vouches for him.
Plus…those turtles. A man prepared to ride out a storm to protect a pair of sea turtles—that he’s named and hand feeds!—is not the kind of man who would force a woman. For that matter, the kind of man who warns a woman about that, isn’t the kind of man who would force a woman.
So, no. I’m not in danger. And, yes, he’s bluffing.
He’s trying to scare me off because…why?
I huff out a breath because the answer to that one is clear as day.
He wants me off his island because he doesn’t like me.
Which is just too fucking bad for him. Because I’m not leaving.
Okay, it’s not great for me either because all of his scare tactics got me hella turned on.
Which is why I let loose a wry chuckle as I give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Nice try, buddy.”
He steps back, his gaze suddenly hard. “What?”
