Chapter Fifty-four
Olivia swims elegantly toward the edge of the pool where I wait with a cocktail, the bright pink concoction gently fizzing in my hand.
“Is that for me?” She asks.
That bright yellow bikini is doing things to my brain, I swear.
“Yes.” I answer. I’m still tense from that earlier conversation in the bedroom. Quite frankly, I’m not sure how she can bear to touch me after everything I did to her family. When I manipulated her into this marriage, I didn’t worry about such things but now…
Will it cost me in the end?
Or will it be one of the many other evils I’ve committed?
Water sluices down her delicate frame as she uses the edge of the pool to pull herself from the water, sitting herself so her feet are still submerged. She reaches for the cocktail as I hand it down to her.
I changed myself into a pair of navy swim trunks but hadn’t gotten in, too content in watching her glide through the water like some tempting little siren.
I don’t tell her I scoured the cocktail recipe books stashed at the bar, that’s never been touched before now, to make her this drink, flipped through the pages until I found one I thought she might like, but then realized there isn’t enough I know about her.
I want to know it all.
So, I picked the one I thought she’d like the most, and hoped I was right.
She takes a sip from the straw and makes a sound that shoots straight to my cock.
“This is delicious!” She takes another hearty sip, “Did you make this?”
“Easy,” I warn her, “That has a lot of alcohol in it.”
Her eyes light up, the sorrow and guilt that was written on her face barely an hour ago completely gone, or hidden, I didn’t know which.
“Where’s yours?” she asks, placing the drink down onto the tile next to the pool and leans back onto her palms, tipping her head back to look at me.
I flick my eyes down her body, the water clings to her skin, the wet material of her swimsuit molding to her shape. My damn mouth waters. She has a hold on me, a hold so tight I’d crawl across burning coal for her.
“I’ll have one later.” I tamp down the urge to spread her out on the deck by stepping to the side and diving into the water.
I take a few seconds to come back up, opening my eyes beneath the water to see her still sitting on the edge, staring down at me. I swim toward her, pushing up off the bottom to come up right between her legs. My hands curl around her ankles as I bring my head above water, flicking hair out my face. Water droplets stick to my lashes, running down over my face and lips. I grin at her as one of her brows jumps up, a smile pulling on her lips.
“What’s that smile for?”
She cocks her head, “Not sure I’ve ever seen you…” twisting her lips side to side as she thinks of her answer before she continues, “Have fun, or even relax.”
“I have fun.”
“Do you?”
“I play poker.”
“Oh,” she rolls her eyes, “So much fun.”
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“Malakai!” She screams before I haul her into the water. She goes under and comes up spluttering, her glare one for the history books. If looks could kill, she would have killed me time and again.
I chuckle when she splashes me but quickly grip her wrists before she can swim away. I can touch the bottom here, but she can’t, so I bring her close, gripping her beneath her ass to wrap her legs around my hips. I wade further into the deep, deep enough the water now comes to my shoulders, but it would completely cover her if she were to stand.
The sun warms her face, showcasing the lighter flecks of gold hidden in the depths of the brown of her eyes. I run the tip of my nose down the bridge of hers before I capture her lips with my own.
I only have twelve hours left where she is completely mine, it’s about time I start using them wisely. We are here, we are alone, and she is all mine to do with whatever I like. The possibilities are endless but right here is a good start.
She opens for me, sweeping her tongue into my mouth, the taste of that fruity cocktail on her tongue, so sweet and mixed with the taste of her, could be a dangerous drug. I rumble into her mouth, my cock hardening at the feel of her pussy pressed to my lower abdomen, grinding softly.
But again, she won’t be coming for me just yet. I have a few more hours I want to wind her up for.
She trembles in my arms, I can feel the speed of her heart thumping against my chest, her breathy little moans landing on my tongue.
I can only imagine how pent up she is already after the plane, a little caressing, a slide of my fingers where she’s desperate for me most, will likely detonate her. It just makes me harder, my cock aching like I didn’t come down her throat only a few hours ago.
But I am punishing her with this denial as much as I am punishing myself. I won’t bury my cock in her until I am ready for her to come, and I doubt she’ll be willing to get me there if I don’t get her there first, she made that mistake once, Olivia isn’t the type of woman to make it twice.
So even though the tip of my cock leaks, my balls pulsing, I will deny us both because when it happens in just a few hours’ time, when I strip her down and lick every inch of her, she’ll shatter into thousands of pieces for me, over and over again.
But for now, I let her work herself up because the reward will be that much sweeter. I revel in the way she uses my body to find pleasure for herself, how her moans taste in my mouth, how the water feels as it ripples around us both. But when she is right there, right where I want her to be, I still her against me, clamping my arms tight so she’s stuck and can’t move.
“Ah, ah, kitten,” I purr, licking across that kiss swollen bottom lip, “Not yet.”
“Malakai,” She cries softly.
“Not yet,” I whisper, “Wait, baby. A little patience.”
I gently unwrap her legs from my waist, holding her so she doesn’t dip beneath the water, “We’re going to take a walk.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now,” I start to swim for the edge of the pool, feeling and hearing her follow, far rougher than she was swimming earlier, like a little tantrum. I’d expect nothing less from her. I hoist myself from the water, turning so I’m sat at the edge and wait for her to come to me. She does which pulls up my mouth in a satisfied smile, then I grab her, hauling her out with me. I pull her over me, so her breasts are squashed against my chest, the length of her covering me and I capture her mouth one last time before I send her off with a quick slap against her ass.
To save temptation, I grab a shower in the downstairs bathroom while she uses the one in the ensuite and get changed, waiting downstairs for her to arrive.
I almost choke on my own tongue when she does.
I don’t know what it is about us being here, but something feels different. Like there is no static or interference.
She beams at me when she hits the bottom step, dressed in the cobalt blue dress I had packed, the one with the deep plunge neckline and delicate floral pattern. It swishes around her knees, loose from the hips down but tight everywhere else, it sticks to her curves like a second skin, leaving nothing for my imagination. Her breasts have been pushed together, giving them a tempting swell that makes my fingers and mouth itch for a feel, for a taste.
Her hair, left down and flowing, is nothing like it is back home. There are glorious waves to it, volume and shine and her face is clear of makeup, not that that mattered. Either way, she is gorgeous, whether her dark eyes are framed by smokey shadow or left clear and bright. There are freckles that dot her nose from an afternoon in the sun, a slight burn that reddens her cheeks.
“Hi,” she chirps cheerily.
“Hi,” it comes out as a rasp.
I need to touch her so the moment she is in reach, I grasp her hand. Shock passes her expression when my fingers wrap around her delicate ones, my hand enveloping hers. Such an intimate move but not one I haven’t done before. Perhaps it feels to her like it does for me.
So, I hold her hand as if I can tether her to me, like I can hold her permanently to me in fear that one day she may leave. And despite being the selfish asshole that I am, I know I’d let her go. But with this link, with everything I am, I hold her, I show her without words that I need her like a rope to the earth, grounding me.
It’ll only take one sharp knife to cut it. I know that. But I cling because inside, I am terrified.
Olivia demanded I take off my shoes the moment we hit the sand.
She pretended like I hadn’t been here before, hadn’t felt the sand between my toes or experienced the waves against my skin as I walked where the sea met the earth.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
I thought myself heartless. Without a soul.
Until her.
She’s unearthed a precious rare gem within me, something I long thought dead. And I want to treasure it, keep it safe.
Olivia walks by my side, her own sandals, hooked by the straps, dangling from her fingers as she takes easy slow steps through the white sand beneath her feet. Her chin is angled toward the sea, where the sun is setting, casting a brilliant pink and orange glow atop the surf that rolls toward the land.
The setting sun kisses her skin, so lovingly lighting her up as if it has waited eons to do so, touching every line of her body with a stroke of pure light that makes me ache from within. I still have her hand in mine, her dainty fingers curled tight like she believes I’d ever let her go.
The sand filters between my toes, grainy and rough and yet soft, a cushion as we walk. The ocean sings the song of its tides, the foamy white edge drawing close but never touching where we walk.
“This is beautiful,” Olivia whispers above the roar of the sea.
“It is one of the only places I feel myself,” I admit.
“No weight,” she comments, “Nothing to drag you down.”
I nod though she isn’t looking, still staring out at the wonder of the sea. “I’ve only been to the beach a few times. It wasn’t a vacation our family took often but whenever I did, I always found myself near the water. It’s like music.”
“Music?” I question.
“Yes,” She answers, “Can’t you hear it?” Her deep brown eyes turn to me expectedly.
I shake my head, hating the disappointment that contorts her face. “Listen.” She says.
My breath stalls, shallowing as I obey her command.
I hear the grain of the sand shifting beneath our feet, like sugar emptying into a pot, but more than that, I hear the roar of the ocean, starting out low, an echo that draws closer before it crashes against something solid. It howls as it slams against the shore, hissing as it withdraws to try again, as if in a bloody, endless battle. The sea against the land.
“Music,” Olivia repeats, sighing, “It feels endless. Like no matter where we are, the past, the present or the future, that sound will never age.”
The ocean. The sea.
She likes the sea.
I tuck away that kernel of information, changing our direction. It isn’t dark yet, the sun is still making her descent which has set the waves ablaze, dipping beyond the horizon ready for night to reign, but she still clings on. Giving a lasting impression, a last war cry before she submits to the power of the night.
I can’t help but compare the two, the sun and moon, to me and Olivia.
“What is this?” She breathes.
I look toward the intimate table, set for two, placed beneath the clear skies and separate from the packed restaurant further up from the beach.
“This is our first date,” I say, full of confidence yet underneath, I don’t feel that way at all.
“You did this?” she asks with a breathy laugh.
“Yes, Olivia, for you.”