Page 42 of Pleasure Island

Several people were gathered around, and he barked for them to get out of the way as he hauled me up into his arms.

I shivered again, wishing I could sink into that warmth.

A coughing fit overcame me, and Liam lowered me to the sand where I emptied myself of the salt water I’d choked on. The second he put my weight down on my feet, though, the muscle in my leg knotted up on me and I gasped in agony.

“What in the hell were you thinking, swimming out so far?” he demanded, grabbing my shoulders and hauling me closer.

Water sparkled off his eyelids and drops clung to his lashes.

“I…” I started to tell him, but my leg knotted up again, and I whimpered, sinking to the sand with my affected leg curling up underneath me.

Some of the pain I was feeling must have shown on my face because his features thawed a little, and he reached for my ankle, slowly drawing my leg out. I whimpered again.

“You cramped up,” he said softly.

I nodded, blinking back tears. My head was spinning from the adrenaline, and my heart raced inside my chest.

“Come on.” Liam picked me up, settling me once more against his chest. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I turned my face into his chest as he walked, more than willing to get away from the prying eyes of those who’d been watching.

I felt stupid, silly. I knew better than to swim so far from the shore alone, but I’d done it anyway.

Part of me had wanted to be reckless, to challenge Liam in the face of his unbreakable calm.

Well, I’d gotten through his wall.

He waspissed.

I could still feel the anger burning in him when we reached my bungalow, and I waited for him to put me down, but he managed to brace my weight against his body, keeping me off my feet as he swiped the keycard.

I nudged the door open.

The air-conditioned, chilly air made me shiver even harder, and Liam carried me over to the couch, dumping me onto the top of it with little ceremony. But then he picked up a blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

I clung to it.

“Let me see your leg.” He sat next to me on the couch, closer than he’d ever gotten to me.

He stretched my leg out once more, then cupped the back of my thigh where the muscle continued to cramp and knot up.

He dug his fingers into the knot.

I groaned. “Thathurts,” I complained.

“It will keep hurting until you work the cramp out too,” he replied. And he set about doing just that, rubbing, stroking, at times digging into my muscle. Bit by bit, the cramp eased.

And my head got clearer.

Slumped back against the couch, I closed my eyes.

“You saved my life,” I said.

His hands slowed in their task slightly, then he resumed. “Doing my job, ma’am.”

I lapsed into silence, staring at his averted face as he worked on my leg.

“I think it’s gone now,” I said softly after a few more minutes.

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