CHAPTER 15 #2
I averted my eyes from the sight of his shirt, parted to reveal tightly coiled muscles.
“I can’t swim,” I admitted.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed he had stopped moving. I imagined my confession had taken him by surprise.
“You never learned?” His tone carried mild amusement, and I braced myself for his usual taunts.
I tried to focus on him, but his half-naked form stole all my attention. He stood there, casting his shirt aside onto the stone floor.
My heartbeat picked up.
Reagan walked toward me, utterly undisturbed by his bare chest.
His torso was honed, strong, with straight lines tracing his abdomen and indents marking his hips. This was what lay beneath the shirts and jumpers.
There was no denying how attractive he was. I had known it from the first moment I met him. But now, seeing his torso fully bare, each sculpted muscle etched into sun-kissed skin—
And I found myself gazing at him for far too long.
Faint spiralling circles over the left side of his chest caught my attention. It looked like pale red lines deliberately cut into his chest, still healing. The mark became much redder at the centre.
His sentence mark.
“Jane?” he asked.
“Huh?” My eyes darted to his face again. “What?”
“You didn’t answer,” he said, grinning as if he noticed where my thoughts went. “Has nobody ever taught you to swim?”
“No.” I shifted my weight between my legs, feeling restless, and focused on the stone walls. “But you go ahead.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him stepping closer.
“I can teach you, if you want. Besides, I’m not about to leave you to wander alone in this place.”
I wondered if he thought I might try to leave. I probably should, except I didn’t see any train stations nearby, and I wasn’t sure it would be wise to leave now.
When I turned to face him again, his gaze rested on my feet, on the ankle I had been rolling in my restlessness.
“I’m sure you’re offering from the goodness of your heart,” I said, making sure he heard the cynicism in my voice. “But I’ll pass.”
“I’m sure that’s because of your very thorough opinions of me,” he said. “But you know by now that you’re perfectly safe with me.”
It was a bad idea. Putting myself in a very vulnerable position. And for what? To test the water? I didn’t need it. It wouldn’t be wise to do this, even if I were inclined to trust him not to let me come to harm. A tenuous and feeble trust.
“Aren’t you curious?” he asked, as if he had been listening to my every thought, using my weakness against me.
My eyes darted from him to the blue spring.
“I am curious, and that will probably be the end of me someday. I’m not sure I want it to be today.”
He chuckled, his shoulders moving with the sound.
I didn’t need it. I shouldn’t. What would I get from plunging into a deep pool without knowing how to swim, just so my captor could teach me?
Yet . . . he’d played me perfectly.
I reached for my boots and pulled them off.
Reagan watched me, waiting.
Holding my breath, I gripped the hem of my umber blouse, pulled it over my head, and let it fall to the floor.
His brows arched, but he recovered, his hands undoing the button on his trousers as his eyes were locked on mine.
I kept my gaze on him, as if his face were an anchor that I was fixing on so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. I pulled the strings of the black skirt I was wearing and let the fabric drop, pooling at my feet and leaving me with only two pieces of red underwear.
My face and neck flushed with warmth.
Reagan paused mid-motion, his trousers still on, as his gaze dropped to my bare skin. Those eyes roamed over my breasts—lazily and shamelessly. My chest rose sharply, the tips of my breasts hardening.
Reagan’s fingers fidgeted at his sides. He trailed down again, eyes levelling with my stomach, damp with the steam of the room, then to the flare of my hips and thighs.
The corner of his lips curled into the slightest grin. His hands moved back to his trousers, and he pulled them down, revealing loose undergarments that reached the middle of his thighs and long, muscular legs.
“How do we get in?” I asked, looking at the pool that was lower than the floor level.
Before I realised what he was about to do, he rushed forward.
Water splashed on my legs as he disappeared under the liquid. He rose to the surface, arms swaying at his sides as he shook the excess water from his hair. His legs kicked in controlled, smooth movements beneath him.
“Now you,” Reagan said. “Jump in and we’ll try swimming.”
I ran a hand over my face, already regretting this. “It would be easier if you had pushed me.”
“Do you want me to—” he started, swimming to the edge.
“No,” I answered quickly, taking a step forward.
“When you get in the water, you have to kick your legs, like I’m doing, and move your arms. That will keep you from sinking. Understand?” he asked, swimming back and giving me space.
“Yes, I think.” My mouth pursed. Reluctance fluttered in my stomach.
“I’ll catch you,” he murmured, as if to reassure me.
I was counting on that. I looked down at the pool, bringing my feet to the stone border.
Deep, very deep.
Reagan was watching closely, his arms making circular movements around him.
I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself as I stepped forward.
Warm liquid engulfed me, pulling me down in its smooth, silky embrace. I began thrashing my legs.
Still going down, I kicked faster, trying to push water, but remaining trapped in the same place. I felt my lungs clawing for air. My arms finally found a movement that brought me up, and I reached the surface.
“Good. You’re swimming,” Reagan said, entertaining himself with my uncontrolled movements.
I drew a deep breath, kicking my legs in a desperate motion, my weight an anchor.
“I can’t stay above,” I gasped out, swallowing the liquid. My legs stilled as I coughed, and my head went down again.
Firm hands seized my waist, and I surfaced, feeling as if I’d swallowed buckets of water.
“Easy,” Reagan said, keeping us both above the surface.
I clung to his shoulders with both hands. “This is hard. How do you do this?”
“With practice. You’ve really never swum before. Lucky for you, I’m an excellent instructor.” He grinned, drops of water sliding down his lashes. “You moved your arms well. Just don’t stop kicking your legs.”
I muttered under my breath, holding onto him like a child.
“This was a stupid idea,” I grumbled, leaning half my body onto his.
“Don’t give up now, Darling. You’ll swim today.”
He submerged the front of his face into the water, looking down for a moment. His legs stopped kicking, so did the strokes of his arms, and we both stilled.
“How did you stop moving?” I asked, seeing only my legs swaying beneath me.
“I’m creating a flat ledge of water under me to hold us so you can learn.”