Page 23 of Mysterious Mate

“You can’t go near those rocks,” he snarled. “There’s a whirlpool beneath the overhang. It’ll suck you in. You would’ve drowned.”

Willow’s eyes widened in shock as she looked back at the innocent-seeming rocks. The thought of the hidden danger sent a shiver down her spine. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, clinging to Weston.

“No. Instead you just blithely swam towards danger, hoping someone might save you.”

Willow pushed away from him. “You’re a jerk, Weston.”

The push was ineffective at best. Was it just her imagination or did he tighten his hold on her when she tried to push away?

The current shifted, pushing them closer together. Their bodies were pushed together both by the unrelenting, incoming tide and the strength of Weston’s grip. Suddenly, their bodies were pressed tightly against each other, the soft mounds of her breasts flattened—or at least as flat as they could be—against the hard, muscular planes of his chest. Willow's breath caught in her throat, the unexpected intimacy sending a surge of arousal through her.

Instinctively, she wanted to wrap her legs around him, to close the final gap between them, but just as she was about to, Weston pulled away, his movements swift and fluid as he dragged her behind him. He released her as he removed them from the deeper, more dangerous water in the shadows back to the brightly lit, shallower water.

She pouted with a playful expression that he didn't see. Her heart was racing, a mix of frustration and desire churning within her. Determined not to let him get away so easily, she followed him, her strokes quick and determined.

When she reached the shore, Weston was already standing on the sand, the last remnants of the waves lapping at his feet, his back to her. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed as he ran a hand through his wet hair. Willow waded out of the water, the sun warming her skin as she approached him.

"Running away from me, Weston?" she teased, her voice light but laced with the undercurrent of a challenge.

He turned to face her, failing to suppress the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just needed a head start," he replied, his eyes dark and intense as they met hers.

Willow's playful frown melted into a soft smile, her heart pounding in her chest. This was just further proof or actually proof positive that Weston was one of the good guys. If he’d been sent there to kill her, why hadn’t he done it before now? And it would have been easy enough to let her keep swimming and explain away her death as an accidental drowning. He was something else entirely, something that made her pulse race and her thoughts blur.

"You're not going to get away that easily," she said, stepping closer to him, the water lapping at her ankles. The heat between them was palpable, a magnetism that drew them together despite the cool water.

Weston took a step forward, his hands reaching out to grasp her hips. He pulled her against him, the wet fabric of her swimsuit clinging to his all but naked body. Willow's breath hitched as their skin touched, the sensation electric. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of anticipation and need.

"You think I'm trying to get away?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced a path along her spine, sending shivers down her back.

"I don’t understand you at all. I’m beginning to wonder if you just like the chase," she whispered back, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "Maybe I do," he admitted, his breath hot against her skin.

Willow's hands moved to his neck, pulling him down to her. Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, an escalation of the tension that had been building between them. She felt his arms tighten around her, pulling her even closer. Her body responded instinctively, pressing against him, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing together in a rhythm that held unspoken desires and promises. Willow's hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear. But he was solid and real, his presence grounding her even as it set her heart and mind ablaze.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own private universe.

"I knew you weren't an assassin," Willow whispered, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

Weston chuckled softly, his hands still cradling her face. "You’re just now figuring that out? Good lord woman, given the shows you’ve put on—was that something you’d do for someone you thought wanted you dead?" He shook his head. “So, what made you come to that stunning conclusion?”

She smiled, ignoring his taunt. "Because if you were, you'd have let me keep swimming."

His laughter was warm and genuine. "Maybe I just wanted another show. Maybe one where I had an unobstructed view and could choose to participate," he said, his voice tender yet mocking.

Willow refused to be embarrassed. Her smile widened, her eyes shining with happiness. "That sounds like a much better idea. You should have mentioned it before.”

“Maybe I should have,” he said nodding.

“Weston,” called a man running toward them.

Cage turned away as he walked back to his own neat pile of clothes, reaching down to pick up the coverup she had carelessly tossed onto the sand. He pitched it back to her. “Put it on.”

She caught it. “And if I don’t?”

“Your ass might have an encounter with the flat of my hand it won’t enjoy.”

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