The Reluctant Wife: Chapter 21

I frown. Veronica can sometimes be very persistent. Which is the hallmark of a good assistant, right?

A few seconds go by. The dots on screen jump around and stop. Then jump around again.

There’s another missed call from Gavin. But thankfully, no text message. Maybe he’s given up trying to reach me? Hah, probably not. And it’s so cowardly of me to avoid him… But I don’t want to talk to him. It’s only going to remind me of how much I don’t want to marry him. And why I have to. And I don’t want to be reminded of my duties and responsibilities. Not when my engagements for today and the next few days have been cancelled. Not when, for the first time in a long time, I have hours stretching out in front of me with nothing planned out.

So, when Ryot suggested he’d show me the sights, I readily agreed.

I pulled on a jacket, socks and hiking boots, all of which fit perfectly.

The fact that Ryot got my size right is something I don’t want to examine too closely.

I pocket my phone and, as we draw away from the house, I begin to relax. He, on the other hand, remains as watchful as ever.

Being out among the trees and seeing the droplets of rain from last night glinting off the leaves feels therapeutic. By the time we reach the waterfall on the property, a half hour walk through the forest surrounding the house, the images from yesterday’s incident have subsided in my mind.

It’s a beautiful space with a pool of clear water and trees surrounding it. Most of the path here was uphill, and by the time we arrive, I’m sweating. Enough to pull off my jacket and shoes and wade in. I turn in time to see him strip off his own jacket. Only, he doesn’t stop there.

I watch as he pulls off his combat boots and socks. He reaches behind himself and pulls off the black T-shirt he wore this morning. He pulls out his cell phone and places it on the ground, along with his gun, then shucks his jeans.

He places the gun he’s been carrying on top of his clothes, then straightens. I didn’t realize he had a gun on him. Of course, he does. He’s my bodyguard. And undressed and wearing only his boxers, the sheer power radiating off of him is overwhelming.

For a second, I allow myself to take in the breadth of his shoulders, his heavily muscled chest planes with the dog tags nestled in the V made by his impressive pecs; the corrugated abs of his six— Or is that a nine-pack? The mouthwatering ‘V’ of his Adonis’ belt, the flex of his biceps, and the powerful coiling of his thighs as he walks into the water and past me.

He continues on until the water laps at his waist, before turning to smirk at me over his shoulder.

‘Come on in, the water’s amazing,’ he calls out.

It looks way too cold for me. “You go ahead; I’ll stay here.” I walk up the strip of stony beach at the edge of the pool and, stepping onto the grass, seat myself.

He looks like he’s about to protest, then shrugs. ‘Suit yourself.’

Turning, he dives in. I strain my eyes, waiting for him to surface, and when he doesn’t, I begin to worry. I count to ten. Then thirty. By the time I get to sixty, my heart is in my throat. Could he have hit his head? Gotten his leg tangled in a tree limb? He saved my life yesterday, and here I am, standing uselessly while he could be drowning right in front of me.

I jump up and call his name, but there’s no reply. My heart bangs into my ribcage. My blood pressure shoots up. When I’ve counted to a hundred and twenty and he still hasn’t surfaced, I’m beside myself with panic. I strip off my clothes. When I’m down to my bra and panties I wade in, then dive into the water.

The cold hits me like a slap across my face and my body. My breath catches. My skin feels like all the pores are closing down, my skin drawing tight over my flesh like armor. I open my eyes underwater and look around but don’t see anything that resembles him. And my lungs are nowhere as strong as his. In seconds, I rise to the surface and find myself face-to-face with him. My heart rams into my ribcage. My pulse booms in my ears. I’m so relieved that my knees go weak.

‘Where the hell were you?’ I begin to yell at him but end up taking in water and going under. He grabs me under my armpits and drags me back to the surface. I shove my hair out of my eyes and glare at him. ‘Why did you disappear like that?’

He seems taken aback. ‘I was underwater and lost count of the seconds, I guess.”

‘Quit showing off, will ya?’ I slap at his chest. ‘You scared me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says softly. ‘Truly. It felt so good to be back in the water, I lost track of time. I’m a Marine, remember?’

His voice is genuine, and his expression contrite. Seeing yet another human side of him sends a flurry of sensations to my extremities. I’m still angry with him. And upset and… The remnants of that panicky feeling squeeze my belly.

‘I thought you drowned—’ I swallow. ‘I thought—’ I shake my head. I don’t know what I thought. But for a few seconds there, I thought I’d lost him. And that turned my stomach to stone, and shattered my heart, and a sinking feeling came over me. Like a black void had swallowed me, and I couldn’t imagine ever escaping. It felt like the end of the world. Like things were over before they’d even started. Like…my life as I knew it had changed irrevocably. A feeling which still clings to the deepest recesses of my mind. I felt so powerless, and it shook me.

My confusion, anger, and vulnerability must show on my features, for his own grows serious. ‘Hey, come here.’ He pulls me close, and I sink into his chest. I wind my arms about his neck and let him take my weight. And when he boosts me up, I wrap my legs around his waist.

The tears fall from my eyes, first slowly then gathering speed. I turn my face into his chest and allow them to come.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” I sob.

I was congratulating myself for pulling myself together after what happened yesterday, but this… Thinking he’d drowned sent me over the edge. All the shock from yesterday, the trauma I absorbed, bubbles up and spills over. The distress I tried to lock away boils to the fore. It feels cathartic, and very indulgent, to let myself break down and have him hold me.

I sense him rubbing circles over my back and tuck my head under his chin. “I’m so sorry I scared you; I didn’t mean to,” he whispers into my hair.

His voice is so soft, so tender, it only makes me cry harder.

“Let it out, baby. Let it all out.” He carries me out of the water, and when he reaches the grass, he sits down with me straddling him. I cling to him, and he runs his fingers down my hair, murmuring words I can’t make out.

The comfort in his actions and his tone, in how he wraps his big arms about me and holds me so close… It allows me to feel cherished and safe. Enough to let all the frustrations inside me flow out. When the tears finally stop, he continues to hold me.

The heat of his body cocoons me, surrounds me, and he’s the only thing anchoring me to this world. He’s the antidote to the black void that threatened to swallow me.

I feel safe. There’s that word. Protected. Cherished. His. I hiccup, and he continues to swipe his hand down my back, soothing me. That musky, spicy scent of his surrounds me. I draw it deeply into my lungs, allowing it to calm me further. He smells like every erotic dream I’ve ever had. And like security. Yeah, I’ve never felt as shielded as I am now in his arms.

Pressed into his chest, with my thighs plastered against his sides, and the throb of something hard and insistent stabbing into the space between my thighs… The throb of something hard and insistent stabbing into the space between my thighs?

I draw in a sharp breath, and just like that, the safe, content feeling transforms into something hungry. Something erotic. Something insistent which makes my nipples tighten, turns my stomach to a seething mass of desire, and my pussy into an insistent throb of need. I look up to find he’s staring down at me with green eyes that are almost black with lust. They mirror the depths of the water I thought had swallowed him up.

And maybe I’m overreacting, but I don’t question this need to hold him, and touch him, and lick him, and feel him, and make sure he’s here. I tip up my chin. ‘Kiss me.’

His forehead furrows. A tortured expression flits across his features. ‘I’m trying to do my job here, Princess.’ He cups my cheek. ‘I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to make sure I don’t get so involved that the next time I need to protect you or make decisions, which could mean the difference between life and death, I don’t hesitate.’

I frown, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. Didn’t he admit that his feelings for me have already affected his actions? And shouldn’t a stronger connection between us mean he’ll protect me even better? How can I convince him of that? I don’t even know what words to use but… Something desperate inside of me insists that this is my chance.

We’re far from everything that defines me. Here, I’m not a princess, and he’s not my bodyguard, and I’m not engaged. I’ve never felt something this powerful for anyone else before. And maybe, we can’t have a future together, but I can seize this moment, can’t I?

‘Please,’ I whisper. ‘I want you. Please, Ryot.’

His jaw hardens. A nerve throbs at his temple. I see the struggle in his eyes a second before that wall I’ve sensed before slams down, and I know I’ve lost him. And a part of me can’t accept it. I refuse to let him turn away. If I let him walk away now, I’ll never have this opportunity again, when I’ll feel so close to him. Closer than I’ve been with anyone before. Closer than I’ll ever be to another human. And I want him. I need this. I must have this. So, I tip up my chin and fit my lips to his.