Page 211 of Captive Ruin

Forty-Five

Amelia

Four weeks later it’s mid-May, the weather cold and unpredictable, and I awake to heavy fog blocking our view of the ocean beyond the beach.

The house that Bastien has loaned us is beautiful. I like it more than Lukas’s, and it carries only positive memories.

His side of the bed is empty, the mattress warm. He’s probably cooking me breakfast; he does that a lot these days. Scrambled eggs and bacon with mushrooms on the side, and I’m not tired of it yet.

If I’m quick, I have time for a swim, and pull on my suit and cap before I head down. Fortunately, the pool is not only heated but enclosed.

He’s not making me breakfast after all. He’s swimming naked, his bare ass catching the light beneath the water’s surface.

I stand with my hands on my hips, watching his careful breaststroke with a frown. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Exercising. I’m feeling stronger.”

“You’re feeling stubborn,” I correct. “The nurse said you’ll put your recovery back if you push it too early.”

“The nurse has left.”

And I’m not sorry; I prefer us alone. Still, “You should be resting.”

“I’m done resting. Muscle disuse sets recovery back as surely as overuse, and for a man of my age—”

“Decrepit, you mean?” I can’t help it; it’s just too much fun to push.

His jaw clenches, eyes flashing as he watches me. “Bold words for someone who’ll be regretting them soon enough.”

Regretting them? I very much doubt it.

Anticipation stirs my blood, tightening my nipples against my suit and pooling heat between my legs. I’m not scared of his punishment list or what it might mean when he finally recovers his strength, I crave it. It can’t come soon enough.

“I’d worry more if you could catch me,” I tease, pulling my goggles into place, and diving over his head into the water.

He’s waiting for me when I’ve finished my first two laps, and I don’t go for a flip-turn but wait to see what he’ll do. He snags me as soon as I come in reach, pulling me against him, his body warm and his cock pressing hard against my stomach.

I push my goggles up. “Mister, you’re distracting.”

“I’m going to sit on a lounger and watch you.”

Disappointment flares; I was hoping for more. I smile anyway. “You do that.”

“But first, I’m saying good morning.” He slides his hands up and cups my face, brushing my lips with his, then deepens our kiss.

I open to him, my arms coming around his neck, pushing my breasts into his chest. His tongue teases, but two can play that game, and I hide mine, forcing him to come looking. As soon as he does, I kiss him back aggressively, pulling a grunt of pleasure from him. His arms tighten around me, and I feel his cock twitch. It’s all I can do not to slide a hand down to it.

He pulls away first, gazing into my eyes. “Your kisses reflect you. Fierce and competitive, playful and wry. Do you know how much I love you?”

My heart bursts every time I hear those words, and I have to clamp down hard on my smile. Instead, I feign indifference. “You’ve mentioned it, yes. Haven’t shown me in a while.”

“What?” He blinks at me, his arms relaxing. It opens his shoulders, drawing my eyes to the pink spider-like scar that sits there, a reminder of what he did for me.

Put himself in harm’s way. Covered my body with his. Risked his life to save mine.

How can I ever pay him back for that? What more proof do I need of his love?

I shrug a shoulder and shake my head in mock dismay, because this push and pull defines us. “It’s been six weeks since you took bullets for me, a day longer than that since our last date, and I can’t even think how long it’s been since you pinned me down or cuffed me to something.”