by Lili Valente
The cool ocean breeze whispered across her skin, raising gooseflesh on her arms and legs as she picked her way across the dark rocks, getting as far from the shore as she could without being sucked into the waves. As she reached the outer most point, just before the rocks dropped away into deeper water, she exhaled long and slow, her fingers wiggling at her sides as she waited for the perfect moment.
As soon as the next wave crashed against the shore and began its rush away, she jumped, leaping into the churning froth. The ocean closed around her, cool and shocking, but she didn’t waste time allowing her body to adjust to the water temperature before bobbing back to the surface and pulling hard toward the open sea.
She made it a good ten feet out before the next wave bore down hard upon her, trying to toss her back the way she’d come. Diving beneath the curl, she slipped beyond the reach of the strongest onshore current and turned left, swimming parallel to the shore. Thankfully, the current seemed to be on her side, drawing her south toward the other end of the island.
Ignoring her racing heart, Hannah established a rhythm with her strokes and did her best to keep her breath under control. She was used to swimming a mile or more every morning before bustling around the bed and breakfast cleaning and taking care of guests. If she kept calm and used her body efficiently, she could easily swim five miles or more and hopefully come across some sign of life along the shore.
The island was small, but surely there had to be some indigenous population. She would look for boat docks or cleared beaches and be ready to head back in toward land when she spotted them. She would find help and she would get off this island in one piece. She had to stay positive and focused or fear would swallow her whole.
Over the past week, she had convinced herself that Jackson wasn’t as frightening or cruel as she’d thought at first. She’d convinced herself that he cared and that she wasn’t in any serious danger. But the moment she’d started down the road away from the house where she’d been held captive, those pretty lies had vanished in a wave of terror.
Now, when she imagined Jackson finding her, it wasn’t the man who had touched a soft finger to her lips that she saw in her mind’s eye. It was the man who had balled his hands into fists when she’d smiled at him, the one who had promised to break her and looked like he would enjoy doing it.
Just keep swimming, she thought, trying to talk her heart down from her throat. Just keep swimming.
She sounded like that fish from the Disney movie, the one she’d gone to see when she was in high school even though Harley had said they were too old for cartoons. But even back then, when she was fifteen and discovering boys while learning to drive, Hannah had known she would never be too old for cartoons. She would never be too old for anything that brought her joy.
There was no reason to outgrow simple pleasures. There was no reason to shut out the things that made her happy because she was growing up. She didn’t have to be like her parents.
There was too much magic in the world to become bitter and jaded and growing up didn’t have to mean growing old. She had always believed that and secretly thought that holding on to childlike wonder would make her a better mother, the kind who understood what her children were going through because she’d never let go of the child inside of herself.
But after a week under Jackson’s control, a good deal of it spent in isolation with nothing to occupy her thoughts or distract her from taking a hard look at the state of her life, she realized she would never be a mom. She would never have a husband or children because she was going to spend the rest of her life addicted to the touch of a man who didn’t care if she lived or died.
Jackson didn’t love her—he didn’t even know her true identity—but she would crave his touch until the day they put her in the ground. He’d summoned a darkly sensual part of her to the surface and there would be no putting it back to sleep. She would always long for his firm hand and the erotic bliss of being under his control.
She might escape him today, but he would haunt her forever, no matter how far or how fast she ran.
Her thoughts were depressing to say the least, but that wasn’t why she sank lower in the water, her head dipping below the surface before she bobbed back above the waves. It was the pain that made her falter, a sharp agony knotting low in her legs.
Hannah winced, crying out as another wave of suffering flashed through her calf muscles. The cramps were so intense they soon rendered her numb from the knees down. Fighting the urge to panic, she strained harder with her arms, trying to compensate for her suddenly useless legs. All she wanted to do was stop swimming and dig her thumbs into her aching calves, but if she stopped pulling with her arms, she would drown.
While she struggled, willing her thrumming muscles to relax, a larger wave swept in, taking her by surprise. She sucked in a breath at the wrong time, taking in a mouthful of seawater as she was rolled beneath the curl. She broke the surface again in the trough, coughing up ocean, fighting to catch her breath before the next wave hit, but she barely had time to clear her lungs before she was swept under again.
Chest aching with the need for oxygen, Hannah tumbled through the dark, the muffled thunder of the churning water above her roaring in her ears. As she revolved, she became aware of a sucking sensation tugging at her torso, drawing her farther from the shore, out into the wilds of the open sea.
In some still, quiet hall inside her mind, a sober voice announced that she was caught in a rip current and would likely die before she made it back to shore. If she had the use of her legs, she might be able to fight her way free by swimming parallel to the beach until the current let her go, but without her legs this was most likely a lost cause. Chances were that she was about to drown. Her body would be lost to the ocean and her Aunt Sybil left alone in the world, with no idea what had happened to her niece.
Jackson wouldn’t know what had become of her either.
The thought shouldn’t hurt, but it did. She’d run from him tonight, but deep down she’d expected to see him again, somewhere, someday. She’d never imagined it would end this way, with her dead and him forever haunted by his unanswered questions.
The thought made her soul howl with regret. She didn’t want to go out like this. She didn’t want to lose her life in the middle of running from her problems, the way she always had. She was tired of running, tired of being afraid. She wanted to face her fears—to face Jackson—and come away a better person for proving that she was stronger than anyone gave her credit for.
She might be submissive, but she wasn’t subhuman. She didn’t deserve Jackson’s contempt or abuse. She should have stayed, told him the truth, and insisted he believe her. She should have stood up to him and shown that she could be every bit as persistent and stubborn as the man she was falling in love with.
He inspired so many conflicting feelings, but love was there, threading through the fear, a ray of light in the darkness.
But if she didn’t get back to shore, he would never know that one of the Mason twins had truly cared for him and wanted nothing more than to give him pleasure and ease his pain.
Drawing strength from her thoughts, Hannah pulled hard to the surface, managing to get in three long strokes before another wave bore down on her, forcing her beneath the water. She dove down, ears ringing and legs stinging with soreness, but she refused to let terror take over. As soon as she was able, she resurfaced and flipped over onto her back to float. If she could draw in a few easier breaths and get her racing pulse under control, she would have the strength to keep fighting.
She was in the midst of her second smooth inhalation—and silently congratulating herself on keeping her head in the midst of a crisis—when an arm wrapped around her chest, banding beneath her armpits. Surprised, she flinched, but the arm only tightened its inexorable grip around her ribs.
A moment later, Jackson’s ragged breath warmed her ear. “Lie still and let me help you. Fight me and I’ll drag you back to shore unconscious.”
/> With a shudder of relief, Hannah relaxed into him, going limp to make her body easier to tow out of the rip tide. Clearly sensing her surrender, Jackson kicked hard beneath the water, his powerful legs sending them gliding toward the beach on the crest of the next wave. She could feel the current tugging at her thighs, but it was still hard to believe that Jackson was fighting the full force of the ocean to get them both to safety. He was, as ever, in control of himself and all he surveyed.
The immense strength and power of the man hit home long before they reached the shallow water and he pulled her into his arms, carrying her out of the waves like she weighed nothing at all. But it was the moment he laid her down in the sand—gently, carefully—that impressed her the most.
Any man could bulk up until he was the biggest beast in the jungle, not any man could communicate with a touch that he believed the world was a better place with you in it.
“You almost died,” he growled as he swiped water from his face, his voice a low rumble that threatened an impending storm. “If I hadn’t seen your dress blow into the road, you would be dead right now.”
Hannah stared up at him, still breathing hard. “Maybe not. I was fighting. I might have made it.”
Heat flashed through his eyes as he braced his hands on either side of her shoulders. “Or you might be dead. You might be at the bottom of the ocean because lying to me is more important to you than your damned life!”
“Lies are the only things you’ll believe,” she shot back, refusing to be cowed by his anger. “You wouldn’t recognize the truth if it walked up and slapped you in the face, Jackson Hawke.”
“You don’t have permission to—”
“I will call you what I want, when I want,” she barreled on, tears rising in her eyes. “I don’t want to be your property; I want to be your friend. Because I c-care about you. Even if you are mean and dangerous and probably out of your damned mind.”
“You care about me,” he echoed, his expression going blank in that way he had, the way that made her unsure whether she was going to earn pleasure or pain from his hands. But right now she was too fresh from near-death to be afraid of the consequences of her frank speech.
“Yes, I care about you.” She blinked faster, trying to keep her tears from slipping down her cheeks “But I’m probably as crazy as you are you big, stupid, arrogant—”
Jackson’s lips found hers, silencing her with a kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, mating with hers, sending electricity searing across her chilled skin and a roar of approval thundering through her every cell. She relaxed her jaw, welcoming his invasion with a moan as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
She clung to him, each press of her fingertips into his muscled shoulders a promise that she would never let him go. He might be mean and dangerous and crazy, but he cared about her, too. She could feel it in the way he pulled her close, rolling her on top of him as he claimed her with his kiss.
CHAPTER THREE
Jackson
He didn’t know up from down or right from wrong. All he knew was that he needed her. He needed to be inside of her, to prove to both of them that she was still alive.
Thank God she was still alive. If he’d lost her…
If he’d been forced to watch her die…
He couldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t think about that or anything else.
Driving a hand into her wet hair, he fisted the other in her panties, ripping them away with one swift jerk. She cried out against his lips as the satin tore, but when he tugged at the back of her thigh, guiding it to the outside of his hip, she spread her legs without resistance. He smoothed his palm over her ass, tracing the seam of her buttock until he dipped his fingers between her legs, finding where she was already slick and hot.
“No more lies,” he said, shoving two digits deep into her pussy, summoning another moan from low in her throat. “From now on, you tell me the truth or I will show you how mean and crazy I can be. Do you hear me?”
“You don’t scare me,” she said, nipping his bottom lip between her teeth hard enough to send pain coursing through his jaw.
“You don’t scare me, sir,” he corrected as he delivered a stern swat to her bare ass, falling back into the game.
He understood the game. The game had rules and a logic that was easy to follow. He didn’t know what to do with this woman when she refused to play by the rules, when she told him she cared about him in that sweet, sad voice that made his heart want to believe her, even if his mind knew better.
“Yes, sir,” she said, easing the tension in his chest. “You don’t scare me, sir.”
“I should.” He released the close of her bra and tossed it away. Her breasts fell heavily onto his chest, making his cock throb. He cupped her fullness in his hands, pinching her nipples until she cried out and her hips began to squirm, restlessly seeking the friction of his erection between her legs.
“Because I don’t love you,” he continued in his hardest voice. “I told you, the man who cared about you is dead. Even if I wanted to, I could never love you, or anyone else, ever again.”
“I thought you said no more lies,” she said, arching her back, pressing her breasts more firmly into his palms.
“I’m not lying.” He kneed her legs apart and bowed upward, lifting her into the air as he pressed his cock against her through the drenched fabric of his boxer briefs. “I don’t love you, and I don’t want to make love to you. I want to fuck you until you scream and realize what a stupid decision it was to run from me.”
“Then fuck me until I scream, sir,” she said, a flush spreading from her breasts up her throat to her gently parted lips. “Fuck me until I know who I belong to.”
God damn.
He didn’t want to give her the upper hand, even for a second, but there was no way he could resist an invitation like that.
Clenching his jaw tight, he reversed their positions, rolling her beneath him as he shoved his soaked boxers down his thighs. He kicked the fabric free and reached down, spreading her outer lips with his thumbs, revealing the slick, swollen flesh of her pussy.
His pussy. She was his and he was going to make sure that every time she sat down for the next three days she remembered it.
He positioned the dripping head of his cock and shoved home with a brutal thrust that wrenched the promised scream from her lips. The sound was part pleasure, part pain, and so fucking sexy he couldn’t have held back if he’d tried.
With a groan of surrender, he braced his arms on either side of her pretty face and rode her hard. He fucked her until her breasts bounced against his chest and the sound of their bodies connecting made a dull thudding sound audible over the crash of the waves against the shore. They were both going to be sore as hell tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He needed her to feel him, every inch of his cock filling her up, staking his claim.
Her pleasure and pain belonged to him. She belonged to him.
“You’re mine,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he fought for control, for the strength to hold on until he felt her go. “You belong to me. Even if you kill yourself, even if you kill me, you will always belong to me.”
“Oh God, Jackson, please!” Her nails raked down his arms, leaving stinging trails behind that he knew would fill with blood.
But he didn’t care. Let her mark him. Let her bleed him, so long as she came begging him for more.
“Please what?” He shifted the angle of his thrusts until her breath caught on a gasp of pleasure.
“Can I come?” she asked, voice rising as she writhed beneath him, fighting to hold back the wave mounting inside of her. “Please, sir, can I come? Please? God, Jackson, please!”
“Come,” he commanded, shoving into her one final time. She cried out his name and he roared something incomprehensible into the soft curve of her neck as her pussy clenched tight around his cock, triggering an orgasm so intense he lost time.
For a moment, he existed outside of reality, in an alternate dimension
where there was nothing but warmth and pleasure and the smell of this woman all around him. And it was sweet, so sweet he thought maybe he could die a happy man as long as he died with the smell of her thick in his head, the taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her arms and legs locked around him, holding him close to her heart.
He came and came, pleasure having its way with him for what could have been hours before he finally collapsed on top of her, fighting to regain his breath. Between the battle with the ocean and the erotic battle with his newly recaptured prisoner, he was too spent to move, even when he realized that he hadn’t pulled out. He’d come inside her, spilling every drop into the slick heat of her pussy.
He cursed himself but didn’t roll away. It was too late for pulling out to do a damned bit of good and he wanted to stay joined with her a little longer, with his softening length buried inside her and the sticky heat of their pleasure binding them together. He didn’t want to think about what came next, or what he would have to do if she lied to him again.
“I’m sorry I ran,” she finally whispered. “I saw Adam carrying a cage around to the back of the house and I lost it. I…I was afraid it was for me.”
“It was for you.” He didn’t bother to add that it still might be, depending on her answers to his questions.
“But why?” she asked, her voice breaking. “I thought we had a good time today. I thought we were connecting in a way we hadn’t before.”
“I agree.” He drew back until he could take in her flushed cheeks and blue eyes, still glittering with passion. “That’s why I trusted you to remain alone on the porch while I took a phone call. And you rewarded that trust by running away and nearly killing yourself.”
Her brows drew together. “And if I hadn’t, you would have put me in a cage. What kind of reward is that?”
