Mmm. I want... Unconsciously, Sophia licked her lips. She wanted to be one of those pink Octopuses imprinted on his shorts.
Her eyes climbed up his tapered waist where she liked to dig her nails in while he thrust in her, lingering over his luscious dark-pink mouth and ending up in his wondrous emerald green eyes.
He stood rigidly before her, his expression inscrutable.
Sophia. If you keep eyeing me like I am edible, I am going to drag you to my room and indulge you. Alistair could see her mind working on her expressive face. She was debating whether she should run or not.
For a long moment, he simply held her gaze, his own veiled, impossible to read. Then he held out his hand and repeated, “Join me.” I want to hold your slick body in my arms in the water.
From the corner of her eye, Sophia noticed that Edward and Felipe had moved to the far corner of the terrace and were entering the jacuzzi, feigning blindness and deafness. She bit her lip as she toyed with her long hair draped over one shoulder. I can’t. You are going to be mad if you see what I have done.
Alistair tsked and his mouth softened fleetingly as he lowered his teeth on his own bottom lip.
“You know what that does to me. If you stop biting your lip, I promise not to bite.” His green gaze remained intense, focused on her face. “Join me.”
Her eyes locked on his, she released her lip and shook her head, saying in a throaty voice, “I’ve already showered.”
He laughed and bent to whisper on her lips, “Liar.” He took her left hand and made her stand up. He placed her hand on his chest, running it down and stopped at the band of his shorts. “You know you wouldn’t resist me.”
She tried to free her hand from his. He hesitated for a split second, before putting the tip of her index finger in his mouth and slowly, so very slowly drew it out. “I see you’re still using our commitment ring.”
Her fingers closed in a fist and she looked down at the Cartier ring on her right hand. He had branded her as his. “Oh, yes, force of habit,” she murmured. Damn, caught red handed.
As if you’d forgotten you were wearing the ring, Sophia. “You will not take it off,” he ordered.
Lord Tyrant. “Oh. No?” Sophia looked into his narrowed eyes, then mimicking his move, she narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m not yours to be ordered.”
Not yet, you mean. “You will be,” he stated, frowning down at her. “Come with me. I have to grab a towel. I’m all wet.” I want you wet with me.
She shot him a resigned glance. Immediately, his arm went around her back and his hand possessively gripped her waist. Even though his touch had not been rough, she flinched.
“I’m sorry. Are you still sore?” He scanned her face. “How are the stitches? I’m taking you to a doctor. Immediately.”
Change the subject. Quickly. “I cannot marry you, Alistair Connor.”
Spare me stubborn wee lasses. He frowned, forgetting her pain as a more pressing matter presented itself. “Why not?”
Distractedly, she twirled her raven hair around her right hand. “We are too different.”
Really? What excuse are you concocting now? His frown turned dark. He’d started walking inside, and without thinking, Sophia followed. Differences are good. “Would you care to point out our unresolved differences, please?” He paused to pick up a towel to put around his neck and one around his waist.
Sophia didn’t pay attention as she was trying to think of an answer and continued walking. Okay. Let’s try another approach. “You’re a despot, an unmitigated tyrant, utterly used to having your own-”
“Jesus. Christ.” His shocked and outraged gasp interrupted her.
She halted and looked over her shoulder. When she noticed that she’d turned her back to him and that it wasn’t covered by her long hair, it was too late.
Of course, he would see the marks under this sheer caftan. Of course, he would know instantly how I got them. She spun around, facing him, pushing her hair to cover her back. “It’s not what-”
“Fucking lie.” His muttered curse stopped whatever lame excuse she was planning on saying.
“My. Room. Now!” Alistair hissed at her and gripped Sophia’s hand, dragging her through the hotel corridor.
She didn’t try to stop him. His jaw was set and it made him look like a gargoyle, albeit a sexy one.
She sighed as she tried to keep up with his large strides. Oh. How am I going to explain this?
Alistair’s senior suite.
5.48 p.m.
He shut the door quietly behind him, but the soft click on the lock made Sophia tremble. “In the bedroom,” he directed her.
Oh my God. Where should I begin? She walked into the bedroom and turned her back to the balcony doors, avoiding his look.
Alistair stood frozen by the large door of the room, looking at her retreating back. He knew those marks. He wish he didn’t, but he could recognize welts like that instantly. He had seen them on Heather’s body more than once when they were joined by Emma, who liked to push the limits. Who did this to her? What the fuck is going on? He closed the double doors, which separated the bedroom from the rest of the suite.
Alistair’s glorious shoulders and pectorals were still glistening from the pool and the drops of water that fell from his long wet bangs.
Her mouth went dry at his sight and she immediately forgot why she was in his suite. She licked her lips and fisted her hands to prevent them from seeking his smooth and hard chest.
She made an effort to look away. If she kept staring at him, she would jump his bones then and there.
He glanced down and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Undress,” he ordered harshly. She looked at him with a scared look on her face, and he added with a softer voice, “Please.”
“Let me expla-”
“I won’t ask again, Sophia. If you don’t undress, I’ll do it for you.”
Oh? Damn you, Alistair Connor. Sophia stood, raising her chin. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“Sophia.” He stepped closer, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. “I will rip this transparent thing off your body-”
“Very well.” She drew in a fortifying breath and undid the ties on her caftan, pushing it off her shoulders. It fell to the ground in a pool of sheer silk, leaving her wearing only a red and white strapless swimsuit.
Alistair’s mind was bubbling with many emotions, questions and doubts. “Turn,” he ordered.
“Alistair Co-”
“TURN!”
She turned, facing the glass doors.
He cautiously pushed her hair away and lowered the swimsuit, baring her to the waist. He hissed through clench teeth in horror.
Sophia’s back was marked with yellowing welts. One of the longer ones crossed from her left side just above her waist to below her right shoulder blade.
“Sophia...” he whispered, astounded by the savagery apparent in the marks. “Who did this to you?”
“I-I did,” she answered so softly that he thought he’d misheard. “I bought a... A strange whip. A cat-something. And tried it... I mean, on myself. I needed to know if I could handle it. The pain, I-I mean.”
She was stammering. She was trembling. She knew. But she couldn’t stop herself.
He didn’t say a word, his eyes fixed on her bruised back.
She rambled on, “I thought of how strong you are. And I-I hit myself as yo-you would.”