Page 56 of His Secretly Pregnant Cinderella

CHAPTER EIGHT

MORGANHADAstrange feeling of déjà vu when she opened her eyes and had the distinct sensation that she was in a different place.

This was how it had been when they’d gone to Greece, and again... Wherever they were.

She was lying in bed on Constantine’s yacht.

She was sore because he had taken her so roughly on the deck.

Not that it had been unpleasant. It had been... Lovely. Really. He had been...

Everything.

He wanted her. And maybe even wanted the babies.

It had change something for him to know. And not in the way that she had imagined.

She had thought that he would be... Angry. But that wasn’t how he was acting. He was acting like a man who had a deep need to possess.

And she was... She wanted to be possessed by him. That was the thing. It had always been the thing.

He was a twin...

That reality was hovering around the edges of her consciousness and had been ever since he’d said it.

She could look it up. On something. Though, she realized just then that she didn’t have her phone. They didn’t have anything. She had her wedding dress. And that was all.

But she was naked now.

The door to the cabin opened then, and she scrambled back down to the bed, covering herself with the sheets.

“What are you doing that for?” he asked, his gaze raking over her with hot intent.

“I didn’t know who was opening the door.”

“There is no one else here. Indeed, there is no one else on the island either.”

“The island?”

“Yes. My private island. There is no one else here, and there will not be for the duration, other than when people drop off supplies, and we will have ample warning. It was stocked in preparation for our arrival.”

“It was...”

He handed her a lovely, delicately beaded bag. “I believe you will find clothing in there.”

He left then, though in the bag she did not really find clothing. Rather she found a lovely if wholly impractical swimsuit, the bottoms resting low below her baby bump, the top barely covering her ample breasts. There was a diaphanous cover that went with it, but it was nearly completely see-through. Still, when she exited the cabin she found it was extremely warm, and if no one else was here...

He was bent over on the deck, wrapping ropes quickly and efficiently into coils. He was wearing a pair of shorts, his shirt discarded. His dark hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it. Or perhaps like she had been running her fingers through it. And he was... He was gorgeous like this. Out in the wild, not contained in a suit. This was how he looked when he made love. But it was somehow... Illicit and thrilling to see him like this while he was doing something as orderly as working on a yacht.

“You are ready?” He straightened, and her mouth watered as she took in the sight of his broad chest, his flat abs, his bronze skin, covered with just the right amount of hair. She had never really considered herself a fan of chest hair, but Constantine’s was a work of art. As indeed was his entire body.

The island itself was glorious. The white sand, palm and cypress trees, along with groves of olives providing shade for the landscape. High up on a hilltop she could just barely see the gleam of glass nestled in the trees.

The house?

Maybe.

“No one is here?”

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