“Come on, live a little,” he goaded her, and she bit down on her lip, still hesitating. Only the sun was so warm and the water so beautifully inviting and clear.
She looked back to him. “No sharks?”
“Just me.”
She laughed softly. “You, I think, I can manage.”
“We’ll see.”
A blade of anticipation sliced through her, but before she could give in to her doubts, she pointed her arms over her head and dove into the water, swimming away from the yacht first, then treading water a moment, turning back to face him. It was the loveliest sensation—the water was warm, and the sun glinted off its surface.
“Making a break for it?”
“Prisoners are hard wired to attempt escape,” she said with a grin, moving her arms so she put even more distance between them.
“This prisoner will have her freedom soon enough. Come, enjoy your last little bit of captivity.”
She dove under water to hide the sobering effect his words had on her. Shewantedto get back to London, and her bedsit, and her job, and the mountain of debt that was waiting for her. She wanted to get away from Anastasios and his accusations and smouldering eyes. Didn’t she?
A lump formed in her throat. It was no good. She kicked under water a bit longer, until the gleaming belly of the jet ski was close enough to touch, then emerged, long hair shimmering down her back, reminding Anastasios of a mermaid.
His eyes bore into hers as, wordlessly, he extended a hand to her, urging her up. She stared at it for several beats before acquiescing, putting hers in it and being pulled higher, her pulse racing so fast she was sure he must feel it through her wrist.
Without his help, she would have managed, but with it, she moved with ease from the water, onto the jet ski, her body brushing his as she lifted one leg over the seat and settled against him. His back was warm and smooth, and shockwaves of awareness overtook her.
Pleasure danced on her skin.
“Ready?”
He asked over his shoulder.
He was asking about the jet ski ride, but the question took on a new meaning to Phoebe, who felt as though she were on the precipice of something new and dangerous, something inevitable.
“Yes,” she said against the crook of his neck, where her head was resting. “Let’s do this.”
There was silence, save for the squawking of a bird overhead, and the words settled amongst them, to Phoebe’s mind almost seeming like an unspoken pact. A moment later, his hand reached down and squeezed hers, dragging one further across his chest.
“Hold on tight.” His voice was gruff, her pulse spiked.
The engine revved, powerful and intent, and then, they were off, so his final words took on renewed importance. She clung to him, not because she thought she might fall from the jet ski but because it was an illicit pleasure that she’d been denying herself since meeting him, and finally being able to touch him like this was sheer, blissful relief. A present, on her birthday.
He drove expertly, cruising up the coastline for twenty minutes, so her eyes feasted on the little Italian towns as her fingers traced lines over his bare chest without her realization, drawing patterns because they were so hungry to touch and feel him.
The vegetation of the coastline gave way to more homes and then, a sight that had Phoebe holding her breath. Perhaps he sensed the change in her, because he slowed down then began to idle.
“What is it?”
She asked, unable to look away from the coastal town with its arched bridges forming a barrier that almost seemed to hold back the village, preventing it from toppling into the sea. Buildings of soft pastel colours rose from the bridge, including a very old church, proud in the center of the headland, with a terracotta roof and a bell tolling to mark the hour.
“The town is called Atrani.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s not particularly famous, though it deserves to be.” He shifted a little in his seat, making her intimately aware of how close they were. Her hands clung to him. “Want to take a closer look?”
Her heart stammered and she answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
His laugh was low and throaty and set her heart tumbling wildly through her chest. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.” The approval was like the lighting of a flame. Before she could respond, he started the engine again, driving slowly this time, in deference to their proximity to the shoreline. Choosing a secluded spot, away from the few people who were dotted in the water, he eased them up to the sand, cutting the engine and removing the key.