Page 28 of Bastard
I fall backward into a float, gazing at the dark sky and the faint white clouds tempering the starlight. The gentle thrust of the Indian Ocean beneath us is soothing, as is the peaceful bliss settling over me. I relax, and my thoughts stray to another moment and the aftermath of my last yacht excursion.
Hayden had carried me to his Jeep.
I caused him to fall on top of me in the back seat after my bathing suit snagged around his shirt button.
“Pull away, and the whole thing will unravel,” I exclaimed.
He made a noise deep within his throat. A sexy, animalistic sound.
“Unsnag me,” I pressed.
“What?”
“Slip your hand between us and free the bit that’s stuck on your button.”
Raw, hot lust filled his eyes. A hungry look, I’ve never forgotten. Ten minutes earlier, he’d pulled me out of a swimming pool and announced to everyone on the yacht that I was his.
“Mine,” he’d declared. Then, he whisked me away in his arms.
And he did slip his hand between our bodies, his knuckle brushing across my nipple. Then he did it again—making sure I knew it wasn’t an accident, as did the sexy curve of his lips.
God bless this bathing suit,I remember thinking.
I arched my hips up, wanting to set him on fire yet at the same time, admit this thing between us was all that mattered.
“Don’t, Luciana.”
“Don’t what, Hayden?”
“Tempt me. Capisci?”
I stop treading water and allow myself to sink. Do I understand? No. I didn’t then, and I still don’t.
Why am I here?
My feet touch the bottom and I push up to the surface for air then swim to the side and hoist myself onto the deck. My T-shirt rides up as I brush fingers through my hair.
That’s when I see his face reflected in the pool.
I spin on my heels to peer at the upper deck, catching a glimpse of the back of his suit before he disappears inside.
How long had he been standing there?
With a frustrated huff, I shake my head and return to my room. But when I turn the door handle, it doesn’t budge. I curse softly, realizing I’ve locked myself out.
It takes a few minutes to walk to the small kitchenettes located on this side of the yacht. A moment to decapitate a second umbrella, and upon my return, one more minute to pick the lock.
The chill from the air-conditioning greets me as I step inside. It’s been cranked up, probably by the thin, spiteful man assigned to be my reluctant butler. My nipples harden like two pebbles beneath my wet T-shirt. I wish I’d wrapped myself in that ridiculous pink spectacle instead of leaving it on deck. Dios, nothing symbolizes weak, naïve woman more than fluffy puke-pink towels.
The shades are drawn and the interior is dark.
How did butler-dearest even know I left the room?
I scowl, wondering if there are cameras monitoring me. Outside the room, sure. But inside? Invading my privacy?
I look around the darkness, my eyes slowly adjusting.
That’s when I see him on the bed.
