Once we were in the van with Alexei’s guy behind the wheel, the rescued girls squeezed close. When I turned, I found Kingston and Alexei watching me.
“What?” I hissed, keeping my voice low.
“Why did you lie about your name back there?” Alexei asked, his voice so cold it gave me chills. “It could’ve been a big happy family reunion.”
My eyes flicked to Kingston as I asked, “What did you tell him about me?”
“Nothing.” It was curious but not exactly surprising. He struck me as a private man. After all, there had to be a reason they called him Ghost.
“How did you know who my father was?” I asked Alexei.
“Secrets aren’t kept for very long in the underworld. As you well know.”
Alexei was right. No secret was safe. It was why my twin and I had always wanted out. Surviving wasn’t the norm, it was the exception.
Sitting on the floor in the back of the van, my knees pulled to my chest, I stared out the tinted windows. I missed having a sibling. But Ivy, through no fault of her own, would never be that to me.
The sun crested over the horizon, bringing with it another day. Another nightmare. Another fight.
“I had a sibling, a twin, and she died.” I turned my head and met Alexei’s gaze. “My father left us with our mother, knowing exactly what she was. He went back home to his sheltered children, and he left us at the mercy of the wolves.” I swallowed, glancing out the window. “So no, I don’t want to get to know her. I don’t want to know about her childhood and how it could have been ours, if only our father had had the balls to do something about my mother.”
Kingston didn’t comment, but he reached out his hand and I followed his gaze to the weapon I still held, reminding me I was still his prisoner. Although it didn’t feel like it, and to my own amazement, it never occurred to me to shoot him or Alexei during our little mission.
I handed him my weapon, and the rest of the trip was spent in silence.
Once the girls were safely situated in a women’s shelter in Greece—courtesy of Lykos Costello—Alexei headed back to Portugal and Kingston and I got on a helicopter that would take us back to Kingston’s island. And I was so very willing to go back, which was ridiculous. Stockholm syndrome at its finest.
“You sure there aren’t parts missing in this helicopter?” I asked sarcastically as he leaned over and buckled the seat belt over my chest.
Kingston remained still, so close that his T-shirt brushed my bare arm. So close that I could count his eyelashes. So close that there was barely half an inch between our lips. Taking a deep breath, his aftershave seeped into my lungs and my entire body hummed with anticipation.
My reason demanded I pull away. My heart urged me to close the distance. And my body… It implored that I ravish him and feel all the things I’d not felt since the last time he kissed me.
He made the decision for me, skimming his lips over mine as he said, “Once we go down that road, there’s no going back. I won’t let you go.”
Every touch seared through my skin, setting my heartbeat into a wild rhythm while electricity crackled around us like sparklers.
“What if I don’t want to go back?” I breathed, brushing my lips against his. There was a haze inside my mind. A lungful of air I couldn’t seem to inhale. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
My heart drummed in my ears, and a part of me hated feeling so vulnerable. The other, more dominant part of me just wanted to let go, knowing he’d catch me.
His eyes were dark and his hand slid up my neck, fisting in my hair. He traced my lips with his thumb. Fire and adrenaline shot through my blood while he watched me.
Like I was everything he wanted. Like I was the only thing he needed.
The press of his lips against mine made my blood sizzle. My lips parted, welcoming the heat of his tongue, and when he nipped at my bottom lip, then licked it, an explosion of fire burst inside me. A moan traveled up my throat and he swallowed it, sliding his tongue inside my mouth.
My hands came to his shoulders, not to push him away but to pull him closer. The warmth of his chest against mine sent a tremble through me, my nipples tightening. The heat of his body alone stole my breath away. My body melted against his, like he was a piece of me that had been missing forever. He deepened the kiss and my fingers curled, digging nails into his shoulders. I panted against his lips while his mouth traveled down my neck, nipping and sucking at my throat.
Then, without a warning, he pulled away, his eyes on me, full of promises.
“Let’s go home.” His rough voice blazed a path down my spine, his words soft and desperate like my need to feel him inside me.
Home. Somewhere along the way, his prison had become home.
Chapter 47Liana
Twenty-four hours had gone by since that searing, unforgettable kiss.
To my dismay, once we got back to the island, Kingston didn’t scoop me off my feet and ravish me. In fact, he acted as if nothing had happened. It left me no other choice but to behave the same.
I’d rather die than beg a man—even one as hot as Kingston Ashford—for attention.
And then there was the guilt that gnawed at me. Kingston was Lou’s love, not mine. So why did it feel so right? I pulled at my hair and groaned. It might be for the best that we didn’t stoke the fire.
Although, it didn’t stop me from lounging here on the beach, gawking at Kingston’s muscled forearms, unable to tear my gaze away. If he’d only discard his swimming shorts, he’d be gloriously naked and my eyes could have their fill.
My thighs tightened and my skin flushed. It wasn’t a hard fantasy to come up with—even to someone as inexperienced as me. His muscular body would cover mine, giving me toe-curling pleasure as he fucked me… if that kiss and our hook-up in his penthouse were any preview.
Good Lord in heaven. I should have looked away, but I physically couldn’t. His tanned, olive skin rippled. He had not an ounce of fat on him. His broad chest was inked with tattoos that begged to be explored. And then those six-pack abs…
But it was the ink on his strong forearms that always held my interest—almost like an angel wing wrapping its feathers around his forearm protectively.
My breath caught, and every part of me was suddenly in flames. My mouth parted and I discreetly checked to ensure I wasn’t drooling. Thankfully, I wasn’t that far gone. Yet.
It should be forbidden for someone that good-looking to walk around in swim shorts. He should be made to wear a full bodysuit to ensure every woman’s safety.
You’re the only woman here, dork, I reminded myself. I dropped my head, hoping he didn’t see me staring. He shook his head, droplets from his hair sprinkling my skin and doing nothing to cool me off.
“I don’t remember you having a staring problem.”
“I don’t,” I snapped, my voice too breathy. “Maybe I’m not the only one with a memory problem.”
“Uh-huh.”
My gaze shifted back to him without my permission and my belly pooled with warmth, catching his eyes exploring my nearly naked body. I exhaled a shuddering breath and looked away again, but not before seeing the flash of a smirk on Kingston’s face.
He was an enigma, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was this gaping hole in my memory, or maybe it was something else.
He sat beside me, not even bothering with a towel, and I couldn’t resist. “The sand is going to be up your ass.”
He flashed me a smile, taking my breath away, before he lay down and tipped his face up to the sun. His face, stoic even when sunbathing, tugged at my heartstrings. I stared at him, deciding whether to bring up our kiss and short conversation about not turning back.
“Still not done staring?”