Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Marie
Iwoke up to evening light painting the white room in sandy colors, the ocean beyond the glass wall transformed into rolling copper.
The bed was so soft it felt like sleeping on clouds, and for a disorienting moment, I forgot where I was. I forgot everything except the feeling of being warm and comfortable for the first time in five years.
Then I remembered the ocean.
Wade.
The kiss!
I pressed my hands to my face, heat burning in my cheeks even though I was alone. I'd kissed him. Actually kissed Wade Easton, the impossibly perfect man who'd saved me and held me in the ocean without asking for anything in return.
And it had been... good. It had been everything. His mouth on mine, his arms around me, the way he'd let me control it at first before taking over and kissing me like he'd been thinking about it for decades.
And the worst part? I wanted to do it again.
I wanted to do it again right now, actually. I wanted to find him, climb into his arms, kiss him until I couldn't remember my own name. I had definitely had the self-control of a teenager instead of a thirty-two-year-old woman who should know better.
I should be focused on saving my girls, dealing with trauma, and literally anything except how badly I wanted Wade’s lips on mine again.
He was forty-seven. Fifteen years older than me, powerful, and looked like some kind of Greek god carved from marble and money. And I was a mess—a bandaged and bruised mess, fresh out of five years of captivity.
This was insane. I was setting myself up for a pain that would make the past five years look like a warmup.
But it felt too good to stop.
Being in Wade Easton's arms felt like living in a fairy tale, like I’d escaped from hell and landed in a place where platinum-haired men with blue eyes held you in the ocean and kissed you like a mermaid princess.
Where safety came with strong arms, gentle hands, and a voice that made you want to trust even when trust was the most dangerous thing you could give.
I was going to get hurt. I knew that with certainty.
Men like Wade Easton didn't keep women like me—they helped them and moved on to the next beautiful thing that caught their attention.
But I wanted this so much more than I had any right to.
I wanted him. I wanted to pretend for just a little longer that fairy tales were real.
My gaze drifted to the ocean view, and I ached at the beauty of it. The evening sun turned everything golden, the current gliding, the horizon line sharp and clear. This was home.
A knock on the door pulled my attention away from the water. The nurse who'd been with me, Sylvia, who'd recognized the Manchineel burn, poked her head in with a warm smile.
"You're awake. Good. Let's get you cleaned up properly, yes?"
She'd helped me bathe after Wade had carried me back from the ocean, her hands gentle as she'd worked around my bandages. She’d washed the salty blood from my hair, cleaned my cuts with care, and changed my dressings.
Now I was dressed in another pair of white button-up pajamas—soft cotton that was a bit too big for me and definitely not my style. They needed pink, but were still comfortable enough for me to burrow into them forever.
"How are you feeling?" Sylvia asked, checking my arm with careful fingers. "Any pain?"
"Some aches," I admitted. "And itching, but it's not bad."
"That's the healing. The itching is good, it means your body is repairing itself." She smiled, satisfied with whatever she was seeing. "Mr. Easton has you on excellent pain management. You should feel little discomfort for at least another few hours."
Wade must have me on some magic drugs, because I felt almost normal, just some aches and the annoying itch of healing wounds. Or maybe it was Wade Easton's kisses that were the real medicine. Maybe I needed more and I'd feel even better.
The thought made me flush again, and Sylvia laughed softly like she could read exactly what I was thinking.
"Rest, Marie. Let your body heal." She squeezed my hand gently. "Mr. Easton is a good man. You're safe here."
She left, and I was alone again with the ocean view and my thoughts, coupled with the overwhelming urge to find Wade and see if kissing him again would feel as good as it had the first time.
I got up and tested my legs, which were steadier than this morning and less fuzzy from whatever painkillers he'd given me.
The white button-up pajamas were definitely too big, with the sleeves hanging past my hands and the pants pooling around my feet, but they were soft and clean and smelled like Wade.
I remembered walking down to the ocean earlier, recalling the layout of this place.
Wade had to be more than just rich. An estate on the North Shore of this scale and privacy, with the glass walls and marble floors, was wealth on a level I'd only ever seen from afar.
A wealth that came with power and the ability to make problems disappear.
I needed to find him and ask questions about who he really was, what kind of resources he actually had, and how he planned to save nineteen women from The Orion without getting us both killed in the process.
And maybe kiss him again.
I padded barefoot through the halls, following the open floor plan until I found stairs that led up to another level. Voices drifted down, Wade's voice, low and commanding, and another man's responding.
I climbed the stairs carefully, my bandaged feet quiet on the marble, and found myself in an upstairs living room decorated with glass and white furniture, overlooking an ocean view that stretched forever.
Wade sat on a white couch, an iPad in his hands, talking to Thomas, his assistant who I’d met earlier. They were discussing something in low tones, too quiet for me to hear properly, but Wade's expression was focused and serious.
Then his eyes met mine across the room, and his expression softened… yet heated? He set the iPad down, never breaking eye contact, and crooked one finger in a gesture that was both invitation and command.
Come here.
My heart did something stupid in my chest, fluttered like I was a teenager with a crush who should have better sense. Thomas glanced between us, said something quiet to Wade, and disappeared down the stairs so fast it would have been weird if I wasn't so focused on the way Wade was looking at me.
Like he wanted me.
I crossed the room slowly, suddenly shy, which made no sense given I'd kissed him just hours ago. But this felt different, less driven by adrenaline and emotion.
Wade watched me approach, tracking every step. When I got close enough, he reached out and caught my hand, pulling me gently toward him. Then he patted his lap—a clear invitation, a test to see what I'd do.
I should have sat beside him like a normal person instead of climbing into his lap like an eager pet, but the way he looked at me, the way his hand was warm and steady around mine, made me brave.
I sat on his lap, settling myself sideways across his thighs with my back against the arm of the couch. His arm came around my waist, holding me steady, keeping me safe. And god, it felt good. It felt right.
"Hi," I said softly, suddenly unable to think of anything more intelligent to say.
"Hi, darling." His voice was warm, amused. His free hand came up to tuck a loose braid behind my shoulder, the touch so gentle it made my eyes sting. "Feeling better?"
"Much better." I bit my lip, looking down at where my hands were twisted in my lap. "Your kisses might be magic. They were better than whatever painkillers you have me on."
He laughed. "Is that so? Maybe I should prescribe more of them."
"Maybe you should." I looked up at him, feeling my cheeks heating. "But I wanted to ask... are you really okay with this? With me and all?”
"Marie." He said my name firmly, tilting my chin up with gentle fingers. "Look at me."
I did, and those pale eyes were intense, focused completely on me.
"You're not broken," he corrected clearly, reading my mind. "You're healing. There's a difference. And yes, I'm more than okay with this. With you sitting in my lap, with kissing you, with all of it."
"But I'm a mess.”
"You're beautiful." Something in his voice made me believe him. "And brave, and so strong. If you think a few bandages are going to change how much I want you in my lap, you don't understand me at all yet."
The words made me melt, butterflies dancing in my stomach, which felt both silly and terrifying. I didn't understand what I was feeling—this mix of shyness and boldness, why I wanted to hide my face and kiss him at the same time.
His approval made me feel lighter, like maybe I could trust this fairy tale for just a little longer.
"Okay," I whispered, and then I kissed him again.
He made a deep sound, and his hand tightened on my waist, holding me more fully. The kiss started gentle and sweet, but it didn't stay that way for long. His mouth moved against mine, coaxing my lips open and deepening the kiss until I forgot how to breathe.
My hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in platinum strands that were softer than they looked. His tongue brushed against mine, tasting and exploring until I was making embarrassing sounds against his mouth.
His thumb stroked beneath my breast, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat of it through the thin cotton.
We kissed until I was dizzy with it, until my lips were swollen, my breathing ragged, and I couldn't remember why I'd ever thought this was a bad idea. He tasted like coffee, felt like safety and danger wrapped together, making me want things I'd thought were dead inside me.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, I sighed a sound of absolute contentment. I stayed close and rested my forehead against his. His hands remained warm on my waist.
"Your kisses are definitely magic," I breathed, and I felt him smile against my lips.
"Glad you approve, darling."