Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He crooks his finger at me. “Come here.”
I scoff. “So you can dunk me under the water? No!”
I’m already slowly swimming away from him, curving along the cliff’s edge to make it to the sandy beach.
Cristiano’s expression turns mischievous. “I wouldn’t dare. Come here, Isabel.”
Lust and exhilaration spark inside me. He looks far too tempting.
“Una…”
As soon as he starts to count, I panic. We’re alone out here in the water. The young boys are up on the beach.
“Dos…”
“Cristiano,” I warn, trying to sound severe even though my smile gives me away.
He looks dangerous, prepared for the attack, and that’s before he counts down the final number. “¡y tres!”
“No!” I shout with alarm, just before I turn and start swimming toward the beach as fast as I can.
The sandy shore is not as close as it looks, and though I’m a great swimmer, Cristiano’s size means he’ll easily be able to catch me. My heart pounds frantically as my arms churn through the water. I feel like I’m swimming away from a predatory great white shark, and I don’t dare look back as I try to pick up my pace even more. Terror creeps in from all sides.
Already my lungs are burning with the exertion. Salt water stings my eyes; my legs start to ache. As I near the shore, a primal scream of determination rips from my throat, propelling me the final few yards until the water is shallow enough that I can easily touch down and start to run.
I only make it a few steps before Cristiano’s arms band around my stomach and he whirls me around in the surf. I laugh and try to wiggle free, but he slows to a stop and holds me pressed against him. His warm, hard chest rises and falls quickly, in sync with mine.
“Surrender,” he teases against the shell of my ear.
“No.”
“Isabel,” he insists, his hand flattening against my quaking stomach.
I’m no match for him, not in this. He cradles my face and drops his mouth to mine. It’s likely the easiest battle he’s ever won. I surrender so easily.
His kiss consumes me. Nerves from the chase tingle along with my growing desire. I reach up to hold his wrists because I feel so unsteady on my feet.
I’ve never…
I feel like my chest is being split open.
Salt water drips into our mouths as Cristiano slides his tongue over mine, deepening our kiss.
Oh my god.
Burning need warms every limb; hunger pools in my low belly. I know for certain if we were here alone, he’d haul me back up onto the shore and press me into the sand. He’d slip his hands inside my bikini and make me his, as many times as he wanted.
I come up on my toes and crush my body against him just as loud whistles and raucous laughter from shore force us to break apart. The young boys are huddled together at the water’s edge, joking and teasing in Spanish, making kissing noises at us.
It’s harmless and silly. Still, I pinch my eyes closed and let my head drop against Cristiano’s chest. I feel his heart beating as erratically as mine.
“Well, we gave them quite a show.”
Cristiano chuckles and presses a kiss to my hair. “Come on. Let’s jump again.”
“Again?”
His hand is already closed over mine as he tugs me out of the water. “Sí. It’s easier the second time.”
Chapter Seventeen
Isabel
Cristiano takes me for a late lunch at a seaside café after we finish swimming. We sit outside on the patio beneath colorful umbrellas with damp hair and sandy feet, sharing a pitcher of ice-cold sangría. Our glasses overflow with freshly cut oranges and pineapple as Cristiano offers a smile.
“Salud.”
He tips his glass my way and I follow suit with a “Salud” of my own, not missing his playful wink. I didn’t pronounce it nearly as well as he did. Spanish rolls off his tongue so beautifully. I’m all too happy to sit and listen to him chat with our waiter for a few minutes before he orders our tapas. His features come alive when he speaks Spanish. It’s obviously in his blood. I suppose it’s in mine, too, but I’m a Cali girl at heart. Cristiano spent his youth traveling for school, but Ibiza is undoubtedly where he belongs.
“Have you ever considered living anywhere else?” I ask once the waiter walks away to put in our order.
He shakes his head. “Never. My home is on the island. I feel a sense of responsibility to the people here, my staff, my customers. I don’t see myself ever leaving.”
“You’re lucky. It’s a beautiful place to live.”
“California isn’t so bad, either,” he notes, studying me.
I swipe my thumb across the condensation on the side of my glass, pinning my focus there instead of considering his comment.
“Do your parents miss you?”
I look up and frown. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ve been avoiding them since I arrived. They don’t know I’m here.”