I jolt at the mention of Landon. Hearing Liam refer to him as my brother is as disconcerting as it was the first time he told me he knew the truth.
“Were the two of you close when you were younger?”
“My father raised me to be a leader, not a friend.” He says it matter-of-factly, without a hint of sadness, but I’m sad for him anyway. Maybe because I know what it’s like to have someone dictate my life to me, from the people I’m allowed to call friends to the man I’ll marry. Liam is as guilty of caging me as my uncle, and no matter the level of chemistry between us, I can’t erase that fact from my mind.
“Were you close to any of them?”
“It’s a day for ironies, my sweet girl.”
“Why’s that?”
“Sebastian and I got along well at one point.”
“What happened?”
“Duty happened. You happened.” He takes his next move, his expression as calm as ever. “Historically, meeting a queen for the first time tends to drive a wedge between budding friendships. Lines are drawn, allegiances are formed…tragedies change things.” His show of calm turns into sorrow, all traces of nonchalance gone as his mind returns to the past. “Being the future chancellor is a lonely existence.”
“Did you ever want something different for yourself?”
“I guess I never thought about it.” He glances at the turquoise waves. “But I’m thinking about it now.”
What he’s thinking about makes me nervous, because Libra’s time comes to an end soon, and I still don’t know if Liam will take me back to Zodiac Island. After spending these weeks with him, on the ship and in our private paradise, it’s difficult to want to go back…
Until a certain sexy-as-sin man invades my thoughts.
Letting the subject drop, I study the chessboard for several minutes, mentally calculating the possibilities, but I can’t find a way out of this. With a resigned sigh, I knock over my king.
Liam leans back on his elbows and smiles. “I think I deserve a prize for making you surrender. Come swimming with me.”
I narrow my eyes. “How is that a reward for winning?”
“Because you haven’t gone for a swim with me since the lagoon?”
“I don’t want to go back to the house to change.”
Slowly, his gaze travels down my chest. “I’ve already seen it all. You don’t need a swimsuit.”
“What?” My eyes widen. “No.”
I can’t strip in front of him. Not today—not when I chose a scandalous bra and panty set I have no business wearing in his presence. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and I’m not sure why I pulled the undergarments from the sordid chest of drawers overflowing with scant and sexy things.
Except that tugging the thong up my thighs and feeling my nipples poke through the see-through soft lace felt like keeping a secret. I did it for me…and maybe on a subconscious level, I did it for the potential of possibilities. I’m ashamed to admit that to myself.
“It’s not a good idea.” I shake my head as panic mounts, ready to gallop ahead. What did I get myself into?
“Suit yourself,” he says with the type of careless shrug I don’t believe. He stands in the sand, his hands moving to the button of his shorts, and my mouth goes dry as he strips in front of me—unabashedly and with too much smug confidence as he drops his clothing on top of the chessboard.
“Are you…?” Unable to help myself, I gawk at his erection. “Are you always hard like that?”
Bending, he raises my chin, warm and gentle fingers forcing my eyes to his. “Only when I’m around you, or thinking about you, or stroking myself while thinking about—”
“Okay,” I interrupt, pulling away. “I get it.”
His mouth quirks into a sexy grin. “Come for a swim with me.”
A heatwave spreads over my skin at the gruffness of his voice. I could blame the sinking fireball in the sky, but the sun isn’t the culprit. “I’m good right here.”
“You’re flushed.”
Flushed in more ways than one. Gathering my knees to my chest, I hug myself. “You go ahead.”
“What are you scared of?”
Besides the tempting cock staring me in the face? “I’m not dressed for it.”
“Then leave your undergarments on.” Before I can object, he hauls me to my feet and grabs the hem of my sundress.
“Liam, don’t.” I fight off his insistent hands.
With a tilt of his head, he takes me in from head to toe. “What are you hiding under that dress, my sweet girl?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
He steps forward.
I step back.
Unlike chess, this is a game we play on even ground. But even as I fend him off, I know I’ve already lost. The realization barely has time to materialize before he strikes, and my dress is gone from my body in seconds.
“Don’t look so triumphant,” I say, glaring at him as he drops my stolen dress on the pile of discarded clothing. “You know you’re stronger than me.”
His attention lowers to the rosy hue of my nipples, much too noticeable in the sheer white lace cups he picked out for me. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m weak as hell right now.”
I don’t like that look in his eyes—it only grows more pronounced each day we spend in all-consuming isolation. Eventually, I’ll stop running from that look, and he’ll jump on me like the sex-starved man he is.
But not today. Before he touches me again, I run toward the shoreline, my heels digging into the sand, and crash into the waves.
7
Dodging the advances of Liam Castle is an exhausting way to live. He’s relentless, taking every opportunity he can to touch, tease, and tantalize.
From walking in on me in the shower to melting my heart with the way he takes care of me—like cooking dinner every night while I enjoy a glass of wine—he whittles away my will.
But never my conscience, and never my memories of another man.
“A storm’s coming,” he says, his attention veering over my shoulder.
I turn in time to spot a streak of lightning in the distance through the window. Ominous clouds hug the horizon, growing more sinister by the second.
I hate storms. Not because they scare me, or even for the destruction they cause, but I’ve always felt at odds when thunder rumbles under the soles of my feet. It’s the type of disruption felt deep in the marrow—an unnerving sensation that brings my vulnerabilities to the forefront.
The wind picks up as the booming grows louder, coming closer with each flash of light in the sky.
I pick at my chicken salad, appetite gone now that the air has changed. There’s an endless charge between us that has nothing to do with the approaching storm. No, the tension spiraling out of control has everything to do with the days passing by on the calendar.
The uncertainty is killing me.
“Will you take me back next week?”
He sets his fork down. “You want to go back that badly?”
“I don’t like being in limbo,” I hedge.