Page 38 of The Truth About Myths
She lifted her brows. "I don't think your conceit will teach me."
He laughed. "You will push with your legs and paddle with your feet."
Determinedly, she gazed at the water. Everything she had attempted, she had succeeded. The ocean would be no different. Isabel mimicked his instructions and relinquished the safety of the bottom. The sea buoyed her.
"There you go. Now work those arms and legs!" he shouted.
She gritted her teeth at his military tone but sprang into motion, whipping her limbs. Up. Down. Up. Down. Her muscles protested the sudden sprint, and every time she lifted her head to breathe, the water tried to find its way into her tiring lungs.
"Come on. You can do better."
Isabel redoubled her efforts, battling the water with all her might. She gained traction and speed, her movements more coordinated. That would show him!
"Enough there. You can stop now." His voice came from far behind her.
But she was making progress. Ignoring his command, she trudged on. A wave hit her in the chest, lifting her high. Hazily, she fought the surf, but it crashed down on her, a waterfall of foam. She tried to kick the bottom, her lungs burning for air, but the wave twisted her, pulling her down.
Something gripped the loose folds of her gown, dragging her up, blessedly up, until she broke the surface, gasping for air. Henrique stared at her. Through her watery vision, the white of his eyes gleamed against his tanned skin.
"What were you thinking? Why didn't you stop when I asked you to?" he yelled, hauling her to the shallow.
"What? I didn't… The wave pulled me down."
He halted and whirled her to face him, clasping her shoulders. "This was a lousy idea if ever you had one."
She dared a step closer, inhaling the salty, sunny scent of his skin. "You, sir… are a terrible teacher."
He raked his fingers through her hair, forcing her face up. The heat of his stare sizzled her. "You, Princess, are no mermaid."
The sun cooked her back and the top of her head. His nearness dissolved her will. Those invisible bonds shimmered into life, drawing her near. Light-headed, she clung to him, waiting, wishing, craving, her fingers digging into the sinewy strength of his arms. A compelling force took control of her. The lack of air, the water—later, she could blame them. Now she only wanted.
"This is wrong. Tell me this is wrong, siren princess." His voice lowered to a husky whisper, his breath tickling her eyelashes.
Was it? He was too close. She couldn't think, much less form words.
"Wrong—right." Isabel went on her tiptoes, her hands clutching his shoulders.
Waves sluiced around them, bonding them.
He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. "You madden me."
"I…"
He kissed her eyelid, her temple, the hollow of her cheek, and then her chin. His mouth was half open, painting her skin in salty water. Her heartbeats matched his too-slow explorations, pounding in her neck. When Henrique arrived on her lips, she was breathless, seeking his attention.
He stopped.
She inhaled to protest.
A rough exhale, a groan, and he meshed their lips, invading her mouth with his tongue. He tasted like the sea, forbidden and hypnotic. How could she have lived this far without knowing this flavor? He loosened his hold on her face and circled her spine, bringing her chest into contact with his. The heat of his skin seeped into the flannel of her dress, pouring into her nerve endings until her legs turned liquid.
Too soon, he pulled away from her, holding her at arm's length. Water dripped from his eyelashes, and she followed the tiny drops until they pooled near the corner of his lip.
He leaned forward until his forehead rested on hers. "I've told you we are ruled by animal instincts."
Isabel broke his hold and stepped back. The muscles of his neck and shoulders rivaled a marble statue for stiffness. He ran a hand through his face, his jaw locked. As an expert in expressions, she read the frustration in the tightness around his mouth and there, by the corner of his eyes, regret.
The mist clouding her thoughts dissipated. What she felt for this brute of a man didn't spring from her gut, as he implied.
