Chapter Six
ANNIE HAD FALLEN asleep in a state of utterly mixed and spent emotions.
On the one hand, she’d been dreading Theo coming to bed, hating the thought of being so close and not touching him, hating the thought of wanting to reach for him, fearing that she might do so on autopilot.
And yet, in the end, she’d been so utterly exhausted that she woke to the sound of crashing waves the next morning, in the exact same position she’d fallen asleep in—hugged right to the side of the bed.
Her eyes flared wide as she lay perfectly still and listened intently to see if she could hear Theo breathing beside her. Silence. Perhaps he had been a gentleman after all and slept on one of the huge couches?
She moved softly, flipping onto her back then turning her head to the pillow beside her. An indent showed he had lain there at some point, but when she brushed her hand over the sheets, they were cool to the touch.
With a small frown, she sat up, and took in the settings anew.
The view now, in broad daylight, was beyond stunning.
The glass windows showed a striking vista out over the ocean in one direction, unimpeded by anything, just beautiful sand and sea.
It was the other windows though that displayed the landscape of the island like some kind of artwork—on one side, rugged, mountainous terrain, covered in lush greenery, and on the other, an expansive lawn, then colourful shrubs and trees, that made Annie itch to go out and explore.
The open-plan layout of the house meant that she could quickly ascertain that Theo wasn’t here.
Telling herself the fluttering in her stomach was relief, she pushed out of bed, the sunlight catching the enormous diamond on her ring finger as she moved the sheet aside, and paced towards the kitchen.
She reached for a coffee pod, but stilled as she hooked a mug beneath the spout, her eyes arrested by something moving in the water.
Her mouth went dry as Theo drew his arms over his head, swimming in a horizontal line with the shore, each stroke powerful and contained, drawing him through the ancient waters as though it were butter and he a knife.
She struggled to properly inflate her lungs as she watched him swim, mesmerised both by his power, and the power of her memories.
The first time they’d really kissed, in a way that had hinted at so much more, had been in his pool.
Water lapping around them, his hands on her body, gentle but also promising, so she’d moved onto his lap where he sat on the pool step, straddling him, her own body answering that promise with one of her own.
She’d felt him grow hard against her sex and a sharp throb of need had almost taken her breath away.
‘Not now, Annie,’ he’d murmured. ‘Not yet.’ Even when he’d wanted her, he had made sure she knew nothing would happen until she was ready. That she hadn’t felt pressured or rushed.
She glanced away, tears filming her eyes unexpectedly, as the sweetness of that memory hit her for the discordancy with the situation they were in now—for the contrast between that Theo, to this.
A man who told her she must beg for him before he’d give her what she wanted.
Who wanted to belittle her, because five years ago, she’d had the hide to leave him.
She blinked quickly to clear the unwelcome tears, and finished making her coffee.
Yet she stayed in the kitchen, eyes gravitating towards the sea, as he reached the far edge of the cove formed by the natural indentation of the island’s shore, and turned around, to swim back the other way.
His head lifted, just a sleek, dark shape in the bobbing ocean, but she took a step backwards, anyway, hiding from him, even when there was no way he’d be able to see her so quickly, and from so far away.
When he’d reached a space in the ocean that was in line with the house, he stopped swimming and stood, and her fingers went completely numb, so the coffee cup she’d been cradling slipped from her hands and smashed against the tiled floor.
Her jaw dropped, and her eyes stayed glued to the visage of Theo emerging from the ocean, like some kind of ancient god, gloriously naked and absolutely masculine.
They’d dated a long time, but she’d never seen him like this.
The closest she’d gotten had been when they’d swum together. This was a revelation and an awakening that sent her pulse skittering wildly.
She couldn’t look away.
He was so bronzed and well-built, so muscled and strong, so lean and taut.
Every step from the ocean was intentional and controlled, the rolling tide no match for this man.
When he reached the water’s edge, he paused, looking left and right, completely relaxed in his nudity, totally at one with the earth, the water, with himself.
He continued to walk then, long, easy strides carrying him across the sand and closer to the house, so she swore, belatedly realising that he’d soon be there, with her.
Naked? Her heart pounded as she galvanised herself into action, looking down at the black puddle of spilled coffee, and the shards of broken ceramic.
She stepped over it gingerly, towards the sink, opening the doors and finding paper towels. She was crouched down, mopping up the spill when the front door sounded.
She couldn’t look.
She couldn’t. Her cheeks flamed as she concentrated very, very hard on focusing on the job at hand and not thinking about the naked state she’d just observed.
‘You’re up,’ he drawled, from close by, so she really had no option but to be brave and glance in his direction. She looked his way slowly though, as if steeling herself for what she might see.
Somehow, this was even harder than if he’d been naked.
That she’d been prepared for. But a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, concealing his anatomy from her, but making her want to peel the towel away and take another peek, was all too confusing.
She jerked her head back to the coffee cup quickly, but not so quickly she missed the quirk of his lips—a knowing smirk, as if he’d taken one look at her bright pink face and the spilled cup and worked out what was going on.
‘Enjoy the view?’
Yes, that confirmed it, she thought ruefully. ‘I’ve seen better,’ she heard herself respond, the words curt—and untrue.
A hiss from between his teeth confirmed she’d hit her mark.
Well, good. His arrogance and the way he lorded her attraction to him over her was wearing thin.
So what if she’d lusted after him from the minute she’d first laid eyes on him?
That had been a schoolgirl crush, and it had prevented her from seeing him as he really was.
It was only this last month in which the scales had fallen properly from her eyes.
‘Are you trying to provoke me, Annie?’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘Perhaps you’re trying to goad me into kissing you again.’
‘Believe me, kissing you is the last thing I want to be doing,’ she muttered, aware it was a dishonest statement to make.
He let out a sound of amusement, but then, to her chagrin, he was reaching down and pulling her to standing. They were so close, she could see the flecks of grey in his eyes, in amongst the dark, almost black. ‘You are a liar,’ he said, but it was with a hint of amusement.
‘I’m not—’
He pressed a finger to her lips. ‘We both know I could prove it, just by touching you.’
Embarrassment curdled in her gut, and she wished then, more than anything, that she’d at least slept with someone.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t had opportunities.
She’d been on dates, set up by her parents, and then later, after her mother had passed away, by her father.
She knew she’d dated men who’d been attracted to her.
But Annie had never felt a spark of interest in anyone besides this man, and back when they’d been an item, he’d been painfully determined not to rush her into bed.
‘What’s your point?’ she asked, after a beat.
He dropped his finger lower, to her shoulder, his eyes shifting a little, before spearing her once more with the intensity of his gaze.
‘I believe in calling a spade a spade. That’s a quality I think we both share.
You do not need to goad me into kissing you, Annie.
I’ve already told you, ask for what you want, and I’ll give it willingly. ’
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. ‘I can’t work out if you want to demean me, by making me ask.’
His eyes flared wide.
‘Is that it? Are you still so angry with me for daring to dump you, that your ego needs to be stroked by me now? Do you need to hear me say it was a mistake? That I wish we hadn’t broken up?’
He swore then, a quiet yet guttural sound ripped from the depths of his belly.
‘It was not a mistake,’ he said, slowly, clearly. ‘We both know that.’
The ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.
‘Yes,’ she said, valiantly, refusing to let him see that she was reeling.
‘It was the right decision.’ It had been.
She couldn’t have ever done anything to put her parents through more pain and grief.
Even now, marrying Theo, whilst hurtful to her father, was simply the lesser of two evils.
‘For a while, I thought I wanted something different with my life.’ He was talking to her, but almost talking through her, as though he was back in the past, remembering the way he’d been then. ‘But it was an illusion. You were an illusion.’
‘I could say the same about you,’ she muttered. ‘The man I thought I was spending time with clearly doesn’t exist.’
‘That is also true. See how good we are at this honesty thing?’
‘You want more honesty?’ she asked.
‘You’ve already told me you hate me,’ he reminded her.
‘I suppose it doesn’t hurt to repeat it, though.’