Page 49 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

He watches me. Quiet. Impossibly still. And when he finally speaks, his voice is low and precise. Like every word is weighed before it's allowed to exist.

"If you want me to be in charge…" He steps forward. Slow. Controlled. His breath brushes my cheek. "To really be in charge…" He leans close, lips at my ear, tone like a blade sliding between ribs. "Then this is our punishment."

A pause. A beat.

"Our punishment?" My breath catches.

Chapter 11

Hot Whisks and Cold Showers

"We moved too fast."Lucas murmurs. "We let the storm do the deciding. If you want a man who takes control then you need one who doesn't let his darkness swallow you with him."

He leans forward, his presence overwhelming even as he remains impossibly composed. His breath is warm against my ear as he whispers, "Until the wedding is done—until every detail is locked down—we focus on work. Consider this our punishment. A reminder that, despite everything, I have to hold the line. No distractions. No more."

His words sink deep. Heavy. Final.

And just like that, the storm shifts.

Not the one outside—but the one inside me. The one I've been feeding with heat, hope, and the desperate need to close the distance between us.

He doesn't leave me room to argue. Doesn't offer softness or apology. Just cold clarity and consequence.

I say nothing.

Not because I agree.

Because I understand.

This is what it means to want a man like Lucas:

You don't just get the fire.

You get the restraint. The rules. The sharp edge of discipline when you push too far.

He watches me a beat longer, making sure I've absorbed it all.

Then—calmly, like nothing just fractured between us—he speaks.

"Now." He says, his voice smooth as steel. "If you're done…"

A pause. Just enough for the words to land.

"I suggest we focus on the emergency of the hour…" He turns toward the prep station, rolling up his sleeves like this is any other day. "Let's whip up a soufflé."

I grab a whisk and mutter just loud enough for him to hear, "Well if that doesn't get a girl all hot and bothered…"

Lucas laughs. A deep, low sound that skates across my skin like warm breath on bare thighs.

"Careful." He says without looking up. "Say things like that, and I'll have to add another day to your sentence."

I choke on my own breath. "My sentence?"

"Punishment. Sentence. Call it what you want." He shrugs, all casual menace, as he unpacks a tin of imported cocoa.

"You're unbelievable."

"That's not what you were calling me two nights ago."

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