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‘The housekeeping staff did mention she wasn’t in the villa when they went to clean it an hour ago, sir,’ the concierge said.
‘An hour ago?’ Frustration turned to something that felt disturbingly like panic.
‘She seemed interested in Jewel Falls when I mentioned it,’ the concierge offered. ‘I told her how to get there. Perhaps—’
‘Have the boat crew check the coastline,’ Brandon interrupted him, the panic scaling down a little. She had probably gone into the interior. But there were a number of coves carved into the rocky headland on the south of the island which could trap the unwary tourist at high tide. The cliffs were a good five miles away—surely Lacey couldn’t have got that far? But he wasn’t taking any chances.
‘Yes, sir,’ the concierge said, all but saluting him. ‘Would you like me to send a search party to the falls too?’
‘No, thanks. I’ll head there myself.’
If Lacey was at the falls, he couldn’t think of a better place to confront her about her failure to inform him or the staff of her whereabouts, and then give her a hands-on demonstration of her new role as his wife.
And for that he did not want an audience.
Lacey sighed with pleasure, the cold water pounding down from the fissure in the rock wall reinvigorating her hot, sweaty skin. She’d taken her time during the walk, admiring the island’s spectacular flora and fauna. But once she’d found the falls she’d been awestruck. Crystal-clear water cascaded from the mossy limestone rocks formed from a volcano—which had built the island’s reef millions of years ago, according to the guide book—while its sandy pool nestled in a fragrant grove of hibiscus and oleander.
But she wasn’t as interested in the geology now, or the spectacular beauty of her surroundings, as she was in enjoying the tranquil setting and indulging the refreshing feel of the cool water against her skin.
Tipping her head back, she let out one last guttural moan of pleasure before stepping out of the stream. But, as she opened her eyes, she jolted—visceral sensation slamming into her.
The tall, dark figure of her husband stood five feet away, ankle-deep in the water, wearing loose cotton trousers, an open shirt to reveal the tanned contours of his chest and a frown.
Vibrant sensation sank deep into her abdomen under his focussed gaze. Her already pebbled nipples hardened to poke against the skimpy bikini, not from the cold this time, but from the warmth spearing through her body like wildfire. But with the familiar arousal came the swell of emotion.
How long had he been standing there? Watching her?
Tugging a hand out of his pocket, he crooked his finger at her without speaking, directing her to come to him. His movements seemed casual, but the fierce demand in his face was anything but.
She shivered, not from the cold, but from the sharp yank of desire and the tug of annoyance. She slicked the hair back from her face, trying to decide how best to react.
She could refuse to do as he asked. Refuse to allow him to use her as his toy, one he was finally prepared to play with. But that vicious yank—compelling her to do anything and everything he wanted—also made her feel alive...and seen. And she knew denying him would also be to deny herself.
The need twisted into a knot in her abdomen.
He had all the experience here, and she knew how much he liked to dominate and control their sexual encounters—she suspected so he could keep a tight rein on his emotions. But surely, if she was bold, brave and unafraid, she could wrestle some of that power out of his hands?
She walked through the pool towards him, refusing to break eye contact, and stopped a few feet from him.
Exhilaration flowed through her as she noticed the thick ridge of an erection under his trousers. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.
His dark-green gaze dipped, burning the chill from her wet skin, then fixed back on her face.
‘Take it off,’ he said, indicating her bikini top.
She sucked in a breath, shocked by the arrogant demand. But, as she steadied her staggered breathing, she acknowledged the delicious thrill charging through her body.
However volatile, however overwhelming, this insistent desire was as much a part of this marriage as the feelings she had begun to nurture and protect. The feelings she hoped one day he might return.
So she looked him in the eye, then forced a smile to her lips—which she hoped looked confident and defiant—and lifted her arms to tug on the string holding the bikini’s halter-neck in place.
The bow gave way, releasing the top. She wasn’t particularly busty, but her breasts felt heavy, the nipples painfully swollen as she exposed herself to his gaze.
It was his turn to suck in a breath. He looked his fill, the flare of approval, of yearning, in his face like a physical caress leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
When his gaze met hers again, his expression had tightened, tensed, the fierce desire something he was no longer able to control.
‘Now take off the rest of it. I want to see all of my wife.’
