Just like that, the heat returns, but it's different.
An awareness.
I knew the men in the watchtowers would be watching me, but it's not their eyes that have my body stiffening.
Swallowing, I turn around to see Preston on the shore, his hands shoved in his sweatpants pockets. His brown hair is mussed, but not from sleep; his mouth is set into a scowl. How did he know I was out here? It’s two in the morning.
Instantly, my body becomes aware of the weighted metal around my neck.
He tracked me out here.
“You think drowning yourself will help you escape me?” He calls out over the soft lapping of water along the beach.
Clutching my arms to my chest, my voice quivers from the cold. Luckily, it’s too dark for him to see my stomach. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not the one I’m trying to escape, Captain.”
The moonlight washing over his frame makes him look ethereal. Otherworldly, with his rippling, tattooed muscles painted silver.
Preston’s head slants curiously.
I swallow, nearly choking on my sandpaper tongue. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So, you decided to take a late-night swim?”
I don’t know why I tell him. “I’d rather swim with the monsters that lurk in these waters than submit to the one that haunts my head.”
He peers at me momentarily across the tens of feet separating us before turning and walking back up the beach. Just as I think he’s leaving me, he surprises me by plopping onto the boulder my towel is on. I need that, but his firm, perfect ass is trapping it below him.
Preston folds his arms over his chest, watching me. That’s fine, I’m not ready to get out yet. I’m hoping he’ll leave before I do. He already saw the scar under my ear and used it against me. I don’t need him noticing the ones that lacerate my lower belly.
For a while, I wade through the water and float on my back, letting my worries wash away with the waves. But Preston’s not leaving; his presence is as constant as the cold that chills me to the bone. When my teeth start chattering, I know I can’t stay in any longer.
I wade back toward the beach, keeping my arms folded across my stomach, hoping it's too dark for him to see the imperfections that mark my skin.
My body is so numb I can’t feel the pebbles digging into my feet. I stop before Preston, trying to disregard the way his eyes trace over every part of me, coiling that familiar desire I’m trying so hard to ignore.
I may be covered in a small bikini, but it doesn’t feel like I’m wearing one at all. Those bourbon eyes strip me bare.
My body trembles from the icy chill penetrating my muscles. I clutch my arms tighter around my stomach. “Can I have my towel?”
The shadow falling over his throat moves. His chest rises and falls, like he’s trying to keep control. Calculate his next move. Or his next words. I’m not sure.
“Can I please have my towel? I’m cold.” I reach out a hand, palm up, keeping the other tucked into my belly. Is it too much to wish that he’ll stop being so broody and tenacious and give it to me? I release a frustrated breath. “Preston—”
The air whooshes from my lungs.
With one swift movement, he snatches my outstretched arm, pulling me on top of him. All it took was one heartbeat, one fluid and smooth motion to have me on his lap. My legs are parted, straddling his. Absentmindedly, my hands fly out to brace on his shoulders like I’m bracing for an impact I may never recover from.
I’m dripping, but he doesn’t seem to care as water slides down my thighs, seeping into his gray sweatpants.
My nervousness floods the silence. “I’m getting you wet.”
Preston rolls his hips, grinding my covered, soaked center against his erection. “Not in the way I want.” His hand glides up my spine, threading my wet hair sticking to my back around his fingers.
My lungs fill with a rabid breath. “I thought you didn’t trust me?”
“Hate fucking is more fun anyway.”
I glare at him, and he growls his answer. “I don’t. Especially now that I know you’re more terrified of someone else. What are you running from, darling? Because it certainly isn’t me.” His hand, tangled in my hair, moves to the side of my neck, his fingers ghosting over my scar. “Or shall I say,who?”
