“Ya basta!”
I grab both wrists and force her back onto the sand, pinning them up by her head. That only sets her legs in motion. I wisely twist out of the way of that rampage. The heavy skirt of her dress, weighted down with seawater, makes the attempt almost futile, giving me enough of a chance to force my body on top of her, to pin those in place as well.
“You keep fighting me like this, and I’ll be a hell of a lot harder on you than I’ve been.”
She just silently snarls at me like a feral cat who has lost its meow. Her beautiful brown eyes are wide with anger. Her full lips are stretched to show off perfect teeth. The chin of her heart-shaped face juts out, round and adorable.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
Without thinking, I lower my head to capture her silent roar with my mouth. It elicits a small cry of surprise, then a moan. At first, it’s one of protest, her body carrying the rest of the tune as she squirms underneath me.
But my mouth is a powerful persuader. The fight in her transitions to silent curiosity as she gives her body a rest and focuses all her energy on her mouth. When my lips gently pry hers apart, she allows it without protest. My tongue slips past the salty water on her lips, into the heat of her mouth.
I find her tongue, and she flinches in surprise underneath me. I press in even closer. Even through the thick, chaste cloth of her dress and blouse, I can feel the accelerated beat of her heart. It matches the rhythm of my own, fast and furious.
Any other woman, I’d take right now, here on this isolated beach. But this one, she’s still a mystery to me. And mysteries are dangerous, especially when you reveal them.
I learned that lesson twenty years ago.
Chapter Ten Leira
His lips taste like a mixture of sin and paradise.
Lying here underneath him as he hungrily introduces me to such worldly delights, I can’t help but be led astray by his seductive lips. I feel like Eve, once pure and innocent, skipping right past the apple to kiss the serpent himself as he awakens her body to all the evils of the world.
Then, he pulls away.
The eyes I closed after I allowed myself to fall now flash open in surprise. I find him staring down at me like I’m some conundrum to figure out. Then, like I actually am Eve, who has convinced him, Adam, to take a nice juicy bite of the forbidden fruit, he rises up, jumping to his feet as though I’m the fires of hell he needs to escape.
I almost stupidly ask what the hell his problem is.
But now that he’s no longer such an overwhelming presence, leading me down the path of certain damnation, I quickly recover. I sit up and try in vain to wipe the sand away from my wet clothes and hair, if only to help rid myself of any evidence of what just happened.
I want to spit every vile and vicious insult at him that I learned in the hallowed halls of those Catholic girls’ schools my father sent me to. Never underestimate the degenerate creativity of a mind forced into chaste submission, especially at an early age.
But I’ve come too far in my silence to back down over a stupid kiss.
“We should get going,” he says, glaring hard at me.
I ignore him, rising up and trying to straighten out my dress, so I at least look somewhat presentable.
He mutters something in Spanish under his breath, and my eyes roll up to find him staring hard at my postulant’s clothes, as though they’re some tempting vice he knows better than to go near. My eyes fall to the drab jumper, coarse white blouse, long dark socks, and “sensible” shoes, wondering what the hell he could possibly find problematic about them. The whole point of a nun’s dress is to avoid any lustful gaze.
“Let’s go,” he practically growls at me.
Once again, I’m left bewildered. If anyone should be angry here, it’s me!
I’m the one who was kidnapped.
I’m the one who was held hostage.
I’m the one who was photographed naked.
I’m the one who was practically assaulted just now.
My tongue inadvertently darts out of my mouth, sliding across my lower lip as though trying to lick away any lingering taste of him there.
Now, I understand his resentment. Just like me, he almost allowed himself to give in to temptation. I’m not the only one with something to lose.
The only difference is, I know his secret, but he doesn’t know mine.
I hold onto that knowledge with smug satisfaction—and more than a little bit of relief—as I follow him across the isolated beach.
His clothes and hair are still wet. The thin cotton of his shirt clings to the muscles of his back, which ripple like the waves of that sea that almost claimed me as he struts across the soft yield of the sand. His dark hair curls at the nape of his neck, each ebony tendril ending in slick, curved daggers.
It’s a reminder that everything about him spells danger.
Perhaps even worse than that which my father has been protecting me from for so long.
Mostly because, despite everything, he’s still so desirable. I still can’t stop that rebellious part of my brain from wondering what could have happened if I allowed him to continue kissing me, his body lying prone on top of mine.
When we finally make our way to the road, I assume that either he has a car waiting for us, or we’ll hitchhike like they do in the movies. Instead, he keeps walking, now along the pavement.
I’ve heard of Ibiza, but only in the way that one hears about distant and exotic places you know
