Page 41 of Covert Desires

For the next hour, we work in silence, covering the common spaces in disgustingly festive decorations until my cotton shirt is soaked through with sweat.

The suffocating tropical air clings to my skin, even with the ceiling fans lazily circling above us. It’s not raining but the air is thick with moisture. My hair sticks to my forehead as I try to brush it away.

Nico doesn’t look any less sweaty either, despite his usual lack of clothes. We’ll have to do something about that habit when the staff arrive next week.

I’m trying very hard not to think about the future.

I know I’m running out of time to make a decision.

But that’s next week’s problem.

“Enough for now; I need a swim,” I declare, the ocean calling me. Anything to shut up this gnawing doubt in my head.

“Yeah, right,” Nico scoffs, gesturing at his collar. “I doubt your technology is waterproof.”

“You make a good point. I guess you can just watch me swim then. Thekeysare 100% waterproof.”

Nico whines for dramatic effect but follows me outside, nevertheless.

I chuck a towel at him, and he wraps it around his waist to cover himself.

The collar, I’m not worried about. It looks like any collar a sub would wear. Sure, it will probably be embarrassing for him should anyone see us, but that’s his problem, not mine.

Besides, if I’ve learned anything about this psycho, it’s that he seems to get off on humiliation. Which is great for me because I find humiliating him cathartic. It’s nice having the power, for once, to not be the victim but rather the one dolling out the flushed cheeks.

The beach should be mostly deserted either way. Unlike the buzzing main beach that’s lit up like a carnival at night, this little slice of paradise is a private one, shared by only three of the inns. It’s just us and the soft lull of the waves out there.

I’ve taken Nico outside a few times. The poor boy can’t stay inside forever. But he seemed indifferent to nature.

Even the nearly full moon blossoming in the sky doesn’t impress him, and he just grunts something unintelligible as he follows me to the beach.

It’s a beautifully clear night, the first one in ages, and it revitalizes me despite the sticky heat plugging up my pores.

In silence, we follow the wooden walkway to the sand, where I spread one of the towels for us.

“Sit,” I command, and Nico does so without resistance.

I give him the usual speech, just to make sure he doesn’t take any chances. “You can run all you want, boy. But you’ll always be within range of the detonator. So, I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”

“I’m not going to run, Kiah.” Nico sighs, running his hand through his sweaty hair.

He doesn’t often use my name. But every time he does, I freeze. There is something in the way he says it, something that makes my heart skip its usual pattern.

Usually, I cringe when men say my name, but not Nico. I’m overly aware of this seemingly useless fact.

"Good," I say, just to say something.

I turn my back on Nico, my hand hovering at the hem of my shorts. A familiar wave of shame washes over me. The scar on my stomach feels like a brand, a constant reminder of my past failures.

But then I catch a glimpse of the moonlit waves, and something stirs inside me. I remember the woman I used to be, unapologetic and free. The woman who reveled in skinny-dipping, before the world tried to break her.

I take a deep breath.

Maybe that woman isn't gone after all.

With a surge of defiance, I wiggle out of my sticky shorts. The relief is instant, both physical and emotional. I haven't felt this alive in years.

I pause, my heart racing. Nico's presence behind me is palpable, but strangely, it doesn't feel judgmental. Like I could turn around right now, battle scars and all, and he'd still look at me the same way.

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