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“Don’t blame me. You supplied my clothes, remember?” I gesture down to the black bikini that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
In my normal life, I wouldn’t be caught dead in something so revealing. But out of the handful of bathing suits in the wardrobe, this was the most modest I could find.
“Sounds like maybe I need to have a conversation with Ross,” he grumbles to himself as he takes a seat on the towel next to me, stretching his legs out in front of himself.
I take in his bare feet and the casual way his hair falls across his forehead. In this light he almost looks like a normal man.Almost...
“You feeling okay today?” he asks, reaching out to trace the small bruise along my ribs with the tip of his finger. I swear it feels like his finger is a match, burning me from the point of contact until he pulls away.
“I am.” I try to keep my voice at a normal octave and my breathing even.
How is it that after everything, a simple swipe of his finger can pull such a powerful reaction from me? It makes no sense. I should be repulsed by his touch, so why do I feel more tempted to lean into it than pull away?
I wish I could answer that.
“Good.” He drops his hands behind him and leans back slightly, turning his face up to the sun.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask after a few seconds, pulling his gaze back to me.
“What do you mean?” He seems to find humor in my question.
“Were you worried I might try to run again, because if so, statue back there hasn’t taken his eyes off of me.” I hitch my thumb in the direction where Niko is standing, only when I turn, I realize he’s no longer there.
“I figured he could use a break.”
“So that’s why you’re here.” I nod.
“Actually, I came out here to see you.”
“Why?” I can’t stop the question from slipping past my lips.
“To make sure you were doing okay.”
“Why?” I repeat.
“Is it so hard to believe that maybe I care how you’re feeling?”
“Uh, yeah. Or are you forgetting you’re the one that is keeping me prisoner here?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” His gaze darkens.
“Well then that makes two of us.”
He nods slowly.
“I hear you’re quite the magician in the kitchen,” he says after a short beat of silence.
“Pretty sure you already knew that.” I throw him a sideways glance. If he did his research, as Norma said he did, then he knows all about culinary school and my job at the restaurant.
“Yes, I suppose so. But studying something and actually being good at it are two very different things. Norma claims you’re a wizard with a spice rack. Said her stew has never tasted so good. And I have to say, I agree.”
“You tried it?”
“She practically shoved a spoon into my mouth when I walked into the kitchen.” He chuckles softly, the action causing the skin around his eyes to wrinkle slightly.
My stomach twists.
Why does he have to be so damn attractive? He would be so much easier to hate if he weren’t.
