“You’re my wife,” he whispered in my ear. “You have to share with me.”
“What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine,” I whispered back.
“That’s about right.” He laughed softly in my ear. “You’ve been sleeping a lot, baby.”
“I’m tired. I think the summer is finally catching up to me.” Not to mention that our lives were rife with turmoil.
“It has been packed,” he agreed. “I’m glad you’re sleeping. I miss you though.”
“When I’m sleeping?”
“Anytime you’re away from me,” he said. “I love when you watch me.”
“Jambon.”
“Yeah, I’m a ham for your attention.” He smiled a lazy smile at me. “Call me what you want.”
I slipped my hand over his shoulder, up his neck, and through his hair, bringing his mouth to mine. “Have fun pulverizing the soccer players?”
“It was the other way around, as far as the game. We made our point though. We didn’t make it easy on them.”
“Of course.”
He kissed a trail from my mouth, down my throat, his hair tickling my chin as he sucked on the skin between my breasts.
“You’re going to brand me,” I breathed out.
“Just here.” He sucked harder, moving the fabric of my bathing suit, mouth on my breast. “Where no one will be able to see but me.”
“Did you go for a swim?”
“Yeah, to cool down. The sun isn’t far off. And the beach is going to be packed. I had it all to myself. You’re going back to sleep again.”
“Am I?”
He pinched my behind and I thrust forward into his solid body. “Look at me, Scarlett.”
I barely opened one eye. One of his arms was propped up, head resting in his hand, looking down at me. A big droplet of water fell from his hair, right between my eyes. He wiped it away with one stroke of his thumb.
“Jealous of sleep?” I whispered, thinking back to when he had said that he disliked my dental hygiene obsession because he was the only one I should be obsessed with.
“Anything that tries to take you from me. But I’m not jealous. It makes me thirst for blood.”
I tucked my head under his chin, curling up closer to him, remembering what Rosaria had told me. “Brando…” I kissed his chest. He tasted of seawater. “If I wanted to leave you, would you stop me?”
He became so still that I had to look up to make sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep. “It’s not going to happen,” he said, voice colder than the water that lingered on his skin.
“Would you stop me if I tried? Or come after me if I did?”
His hand came around my arm, not painful, but firm. I yanked away, or tried to. He loosened his hold, but he didn’t let go. “Have I ever let you walk away from me for long? Even when you were mad? Tell me what I’d do if you tried to leave me.”
“I don’t know,” my voice stammered. “I was just asking.”
“It’s not going to happen. I won’t ever let you go. You won’t ever let me go.”
“No,” I sighed. “I couldn’t live without you.”
“This is about what happened on the yacht.”
