Chapter 47 Small Town
Isabella’s POV
The first thing I realized when I woke up was that my entire body hurt.
Not in a bad way.
But in the kind of way that made me immediately remember exactly why.
My face heated as the memories from the night before flashed through my mind.
Alexander’s arms were still wrapped loosely around me when I opened my eyes. His chest rose slowly beneath my cheek, steady and warm, like he had been awake for a while already.
I shifted slightly.
My legs protested instantly.
I winced.
A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
I groaned.
“Don’t talk to me.”
“That bad?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
I pushed myself up slightly, glaring down at him.
“You didn’t let me sleep.”
“You seemed busy.”
“I was exhausted.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“I tried.”
“You were not trying very hard.”
I rolled my eyes and collapsed back onto the pillow.
“You’re insufferable.”
His arm tightened around my waist briefly.
“And yet,” he said calmly, “you’re still here.”
I refused to answer that.
An hour later we were off the yacht.
Apparently Alexander had decided we were spending the day in town.
The marina was busy, filled with tourists walking along the waterfront, browsing little shops and stopping at cafés.
The ocean stretched behind us, the yacht now just one of many luxury boats anchored along the harbor.
Alexander took my hand the moment we stepped onto the dock.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My fingers tightened slightly around his.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“You’re walking funny,” he said casually.
I stopped mid-step.
Turned slowly toward him.
“Excuse me?”
His mouth twitched.
“You’re limping.”
“I am not limping.”
“You are definitely limping.”
“That’s because someone didn’t let me sleep.”
Alexander looked completely unbothered.
“You weren’t complaining last night.”
Heat rushed to my face instantly.
“Lower your voice.”
“No one can hear us.”
“That’s not the point.”
He leaned slightly closer as we continued walking through the busy tourist street.
“In fact,” he added quietly, “I distinctly remember you asking for more.”
“Alexander!”
“What?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re welcome.”
I shoved his shoulder lightly.
“That is not how that works.”
He just laughed.
The sound was low and warm, drawing a few curious glances from people walking past us.
We stopped in front of a small shop window filled with handmade jewelry.
I pretended to be very interested in a bracelet.
Mostly because I refused to look at him.
Alexander leaned casually beside me, one arm resting against the wall next to the display.
“You’re blushing again,” he said.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“It’s hot outside.”
“It’s not.”
I picked up the bracelet and examined it carefully, even though I had no intention of buying it.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said softly, “you’re still holding my hand.”
I looked down.
He was right.
Somewhere between the yacht and the marina I had forgotten to let go.
I tried to pull away.
His grip tightened just slightly.
Not forcing.
Just enough to stop me.
“You can relax,” he said quietly.
I glanced up.
“For once today,” he continued, “I’m not trying to drag you somewhere.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“We’re just walking.”
“Shopping.”
“Acting like normal people.”
I looked around.
The little shops.
Tourists laughing.
Street musicians playing nearby.
It felt strangely… normal.
Which made it dangerous.
Because nothing about Alexander Kingsley was normal.
Still—
I didn’t pull my hand away.
After a few minutes he glanced at me again.
“And Isabella?”
“What?”
“If you think walking is difficult now…”
His eyes darkened slightly with amusement.
“…you should see how tomorrow feels.”
My jaw dropped.
“Alexander!”
He laughed again.
We passed another shop and he suddenly stopped walking.
“What?” I asked.
He nodded toward a small café.
“You need coffee.”
“I need sleep.”
“You’re not getting sleep.”
“Why not?”
He leaned closer again, voice dropping.
“Because we’re going back to the yacht later.”
My heart skipped slightly.
I tried very hard not to react.
He noticed anyway.
His smile deepened.
“See?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re still holding my hand.”
I looked down.
He was right.
And the worst part?
I wasn’t even trying to pull away anymore.