Chapter 42
Salt. The sting when your newly pampered skin meets the fresh sea.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how blue the ocean is in Thailand. This may be my second visit, but it’s still as jaw dropping as it was the first time.
“I’m going for a swim,” Ivan says, pushing himself up off the sand. His towel scrunches beneath his feet, the white dust pouring over the edges. “Join me?”
He turns, holding out his hand.
I groan. “I only just got dry.”
The wicked grin I’ve come to love spreads over his lips. His knees bend a fraction, and he leans in. Deft fingers stretch toward me, tempting me to take them. Goading me to say no. It’s not as if I truly have a choice. We both know that.
“And now, you’ll get wet again,” he says.
My stomach lurches. Every nerve standing to attention, demanding they be first under his scrutiny. So much innuendo in so few words. So many promises of what’s to come, and what’s on his mind. Ivan means business.
I reach for him. Our fingers link, palms grazing as he pulls me upward. I spring to my feet as if weighing nothing. His other arm wraps around my back, clamping me hard against him. Solid. Steady. And all mine.
“Good girl,” he whispers, lips dangerously close to my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “It’s nice to know you can do as you’re told at least once.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I mutter, attempting to step backward and failing. His arm locks tighter. I’m frozen mid-step, not wanting to comply but unable to move.
“Say please.”
I roll my eyes. “I never say please to my minion.”
He laughs, deep and throaty, the way he does when genuinely happy.
He loves our tit for tat conversations. The ones where we push the other’s buttons for kicks.
They always end the same way—in bed. Well, not always, if I’m being honest, sometimes, we don’t make it that far. But I always end up flat on my back.
Without warning, he scoops me up, throwing me over his shoulder. We sprint toward the ocean, me dangling down his back like a fish on the hook. I kick and scream, pounding my fists into taut muscle. My hands bounce off his slick skin barely leaving a dent.
He ignores me and continues to run.
The warm sea splashes up, the soles of his feet slamming on the sand beneath. My hair’s drenched within seconds. Long, wet strands swaying to the beat of his feet. The tips brushing the water.
Now, waist deep, my nose is a smidge above the water line. I hang there; his strong hands hold my thighs tight. He doesn’t move, just stands, silent. The excitement heightening as I wait for him to make his move.
“What’s it worth?” he asks, feigning authority. “Your freedom?”
I don’t reply. If this is a hostage situation, he can make me talk. One hand snakes up my leg, a finger hooking around my bikini thong. He pulls, and it flexes to the point I think it may snap.
“Tell me,” he growls. “Or the thong gets it.”
“I don’t negotiate with kidnappers.” My voice is haughty. My best posh accent in place. “I’ll take the punishment.” The material snaps with a single flick.
He slides me forward a little, the tip of my nose submerging. “Final warning.”
It’s a stand-off. One I’ve come to love. Him taking control of my body, contorting me into his desired shape, then pretending I have a choice in the matter. On days like today, I’m happy to be his modeling clay. It always works out well for me in the end.
“Do your worst,” I tell him.
Suddenly, I’m upright. We’re face to face as his knees bend, sending us both below the water. With moments to spare, I take a breath as we go under, the ocean swallowing me whole.
He holds my waist firm. Tight enough that I know he’ll never let go. So many things Ivan does show me that he’ll never let go. Every day, I feel a little more secure. Centered. And where I’m meant to be.
My eyes open. He’s framed in the icy blue of the ocean, a school of yellow fish his backing dancers. His eye blaze even brighter, hot and full of need. Then he smiles, the one that can cause my knickers to melt in a beat.
He leans in for a kiss, and I run out of air.
Kicking frantically upward, bursting through the surface, I gasp.
I was so mesmerized, I’d forgotten I needed to breathe.
The salty air fills my lungs, and I breathe deep.
Not only needing the oxygen, but to center the reality of where I am.
Sometimes, I blink to make sure I’m not dreaming.
His dark hair pops through the water first, then he’s facing me, attempting poorly to hide his amusement. Ivan’s poker face needs some work.
“I believe you need to work on your breathing techniques, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Lips twisting.
“You can’t breathe under water,” I shoot back.
“No.” He shrugs, then pauses. “But learning to hold your breath for the right moment is important…”
Large hands splay over my ass as he lifts me onto his waist. My legs wrap around him, instinctively. His need for me obvious between my legs, I grind, just a little.
“Sometimes,” he says. “Knowing when to hold your breath can heighten one’s experience. It’s important for your health.”
I laugh. His lips flutter over my chest. Needy. “For my health?”
“Yes.” His gaze locks onto mine. “Happiness is essential for good health. Both of us know that.”
It’s true. Ivan and I have both been in peak physical condition for years. We’ve watched what we ate, trained until we slept, and taken supplements like candy. But no amount of health made our happiness. What made us happy was each other. Our presence. Our companionship.
“And I very much enjoy ensuring you’re kept in good health, sweetheart.”
Later, we’re preparing for dinner when he comes up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
I’m sitting in my bikini, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Tonight, it is a simple barbeque on the beach.
No staff. No extras. Just a wood fire, grilled meat, and each other.
Ivan gathered wood from the nearby trees this afternoon.
He hadn’t wanted to stay in the cave house. But I insisted.
The mansion doesn’t feel like home. Here, our little obscure paradise does. This is where we truly began. Here in Thailand is where Ivan Harley learned how to love and I accepted there was a life beyond my failed marriage to Terry.
It may be simple, but it signifies so much.
I’d never want to stay anywhere else.
His fingertips squeeze my shoulders, and he smiles. Our eyes meet in the mirror. My heart flutters. It still takes my breath away the way he affects me—daily. Every meeting, every touch, every kiss, cements us even more. This man is the one for me. My soulmate.
“Will you allow me to ravish you in the master bedroom one day?” he asks, his eyebrow arching. “I can promise it will be worth it.”
I push down the giggle tickling my throat.
“Perhaps.”
Ivan spent a small fortune renovating the mansion. After the kitchen fire the last time we were here, the whole place had smoke damage. It oozed through the whole place, staining the walls and clinging to the curtains. It’s beautiful. Of that, there’s no doubt. But it’s not our little cave.
He sighs. The knowledge he hasn’t won the battle flitting over his features. Then he leans down and places his lips on top of my head. Defeated. He’s learning to step back, accept no is a complete sentence. That other people’s opinions count.
“Don’t be long,” he says. “I’m starving.”
He releases my shoulders, turns, and sidles out of the bedroom. I watch his bare back disappear, his taut ass snug in his swim shorts. I return to the mirror to finish brushing my hair.
Sparks float from the crumbling branches catching in the warm breeze then disappearing over the crystal water. Ivan prods at the steak on the racks with a skewer that resembles a sword.
“How do you want it cooked?” He stabs the poor incinerated chunk again.
“I’m happy with cremated,” I say. His eyes flick to me then back to his victim.
We’re sitting crossed legged in the sand, still in our beachwear. The air has cooled to the point of comfortable, no sweat clings to my skin. It has been the most relaxed day I’ve had in years.
He picks up the two-pronged spear, thrusting it into the meat and lifting upward before dropping it on the plate.
My dinner hits the ceramic with a thud. A block of black tinged with deep brown.
My plate cracks down the middle. I push my lips together, willing the chuckle to stay hidden. He narrows his eyes.
“Don’t,” he warns.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make a fucking sassy comment.” His face darkens more. “Or I may have to spank you later.”
I take my fork, skewer my steak and lift it in one colossal piece.
Ivan watches, completely ignoring his own meal burning atop the flames.
I open my mouth dramatically then take a bite.
The meat’s tough, so I bite down hard and tear it like I imagine a lion would rip flesh.
A huge chunk breaks free, and I clamp it behind my teeth, exaggerating every chew.
Then I swallow, long and hard, like he’s seen me do dozens of times before as I drink him down. His jaw tightens. My eyes drop to his crotch. He’s ready.
“I do believe,” I say, stifling the same laugh. “We’ve found something you’re not good at.” He bristles. “And to be honest, it’s a bloody relief.”
Two weeks pass in a heartbeat; before I know it, I’m standing on the airplane steps ready to board and fly back to London.
“Amy,” Ivan says as we reach the top. “Remember…”
I glance over my shoulder. “Yes, yes, I know. Turn left to first class…”
The same game we played last time is cut short when I see the key in his hand. He’s holding it toward me, hope written all over his face. My breath catches.
“No.” He smiles, knowing he’s caught me off guard. “Remember when I told you, this was it for me. You were it for me.” I nod. “Well, this time I want you to turn left, but not on the plane.”
My brow furrows confused.
“I want you to turn left from the airport when we get home. I want you to move in.”
We stand there, staring at one another, his key between us like a gift I only need to grab. The passengers behind him grumble. He ignores them. All his interest focused on me.
“I want to turn left with you for every damn day until I die.”
The metal is warm in my hand when I reach for it. It sinks into my palm, locking in place like it’s always been mine. He takes both my hands, pulling me close; our lips lock, then the crowd cheers.
“Did she say yes?” someone hollers from the back of the line.
Ivan pulls back. He searches my face. “Not yet,” he whispers. “But hell, one day, I’ll lock you down as mine.”
I smile. A genuine, happy smile. One that’s been threatening to come back since everything started to go right. Since Ivan came back into my life promising a future worth wanting. One where I get perhaps not the life I chose, but one I deserve.
Loss and heartbreak can kill your spirit if you let it. But sometimes, changing the plan, taking a breath, and stepping into the unknown is the greatest gift we can give ourselves. Life may twist from the planned path, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be enjoyed.
Under every broken moment is a sliver of hope. Grab it, nurture it, and maybe, just maybe it will all work out.
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