Page 9 of Etched In Stone
The sound of distant laughter had me looking up. Far down the beach, but close enough to be heard, a couple with a small child entered the water.
Fuck.
Krystina and I were both panting and breathless, needing release. Reluctantly, I pulled away.
“There are people down the shore,” I pointed out. “Let’s go dry off. We can finish what we started here back at the villa.”
Krystina removed her hand from my shorts and followed my gaze.
“Damn,” she quietly hissed, that single word expressing a need that matched my own. Then suddenly, her expression shifted to something mischievous, and she grinned. “Race you back.”
“You’re on,” I replied, not needing an excuse to hurry back to the villa.
We both struck out with strong, steady strokes. She was a better swimmer than I’d realized, her form efficient and graceful as she cut through the water. I could have easily outpaced her, but I found myself holding back, content to swim alongside her and watch the concentration on her face as she pushed herself to keep up. When we reached shore, we took off running back to the secluded area where we’d left our towels and chair.
I let her win.
Both breathing hard but exhilarated, Krystina turned to me with triumph shining in her eyes. “I think I won.”
“I suppose you did. What’s my penalty for losing?”
“Hmm,” she said, placing a finger on her chin contemplatively. “You have to tell me one thing about yourself that I don’t know. Something real.”
The request caught me off guard. I was a private person by nature, someone who revealed information strategically and sparingly.
“There’s unfinished business to attend to back at the villa. I’m pretty sure your wet pussy would agree. Can this wait until after?”
“Nope,” she stated, planting her feet firmly in the sand.
Something about the way she looked at me, hopeful and open and completely without guile, made me want to give her what she asked for. It was either that or I was just desperate for the release I’d been denied just moments before.
“When I was eight,” I heard myself saying, “I wanted to run away and join a sailing crew.”
“Like a pirate,” she teased.
“Yeah, a lot like a pirate. I’d read about these expeditions that went around the world, and I was convinced that was the life for me—away from the hell I was living in. I even packed a bag and made it to the marina before my grandfather found me.”
Krystina’s eyes widened with surprise. “And then what happened?”
“He didn’t lecture me or punish me,” I continued, surprised by how vivid the memory still was. I’d forgotten about it up until that moment. “He just sat down on the dock next to me and asked what I was running from. And when I told him I just wanted to get away from everything, he said he understood. But then he reminded me that I wouldn’t be able to look out for Justine if I did that. His reminder about my sister was all I needed to go back. He told me that someday, when I was older, we’d take a boat trip together. Just the two of us. But then he died before that happened and…”
The memory brought with it a familiar ache of loss and a promise of another thing that was robbed from my childhood.
“That’s why you bought The Lucy,” Krystina said softly, understanding flickering in her eyes.
“Perhaps,” I admitted. “I never really thought of it like that, but maybe it had been a subconscious decision.”
She moved closer to me, close enough that I could see tiny flecks of deep gold in her brown eyes. “Thank you for telling me that. Now, I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me that no matter how crazy things get when we go back to New York, you’ll remember that you’re not just Alexander Stone, CEO. You’re also my husband, the man who chased me into the ocean and told me stories about running away to be a pirate.”
“I promise,” I said, and meant it with every fiber of my being. “Come on, angel. Let’s get back to the villa.”
As we crossed the sand, Krystina walked slightly ahead of me. Still wet from our dip in the ocean, I enjoyed watching the water cascade down her curves—and so did the male jogger headed our way. My eyes narrowed at how he looked at her—my wife.
My gaze shifted back to Krystina. Her bikini clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination, and I felt a primal surge of possessiveness. Jealousy crashed over me, and an overwhelming need to protect my wife.
