I grab her Kindle, then limp forward, then break into a run. I jog slowly around the perimeter of the island. If she thinks she can evade me, she is so wrong. I know every inch of this island like the back of my hand. I’m going to track her down if it’s the last thing I do.
"LadyBird," I call out, "where are you?" The wind blows through the trees. The long grass ripples. I circle the island once, then head toward the house. Once inside, I shut the door and lock it. I prowl through the living room, the hallway, the kitchen, then the bedroom, before I reach my study. I walk in, shut the door behind me and lock it. The scent of books is as pervasive here as the smell of the sea air outside. The windows are closed, and the only other furniture is a deep settee in front of the now dark fireplace. I run my fingers down the spines of the books—classics I grew up reading, others I picked up along the way. The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, The Odyssey by Homer, The Complete Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle, the entire series of Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling, King Solomon's Mines by H. Rider Haggard, The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper, Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi. When I reach my vinyls, I pause. One shelf holds my collection of opera, and above it is a row of classical music greats.
I hear a sound behind me; turn to see her dash toward the exit. She reaches the doorway and tries to twist open the handle, but it doesn’t give. She tugs on it, shakes it, but the door won’t open.
"Looking for this?"
She turns, spots the key I pull out from my pocket, and scowls. "Give it to me," she holds out her hand.
"Come and get it, baby."
Her chest rises and falls. "Don’t call me baby."
I take in her flushed features, the pulse that beats at the base of her throat. "Thought you liked it when I called you baby, baby?"
She sniffs. “That’s beside the point.”
“The point is that there’s no way out. I have you where I want you,baby.”
She draws in a sharp breath, and her pupils dilate. "You haven’t caught me yet.”
"That’s easily remedied."
I lunge toward her. She screams, evades me and runs past me and into the room. I turn, stretch out my fingers, then close them again. "I’m gonna get you, LadyBird."
I walk toward her, and she races around the sofa. I reverse my route and she runs the other way. We keep this going for a few seconds more. Her chest rises and falls. Her breath comes in pants. I reach across the settee, and she yells and backs away. I prowl around the couch and head toward her. She skitters back until she hits the shelf behind her, then gasps and comes to a stop. She glances toward the door, then back at me.
I click my tongue. "Don’t even think about it."
I take a step toward her, and she flattens herself against the shelf. I move forward another step, and she darts past me, or tries to. I grab her arm. She screams. I haul her to me, and this time, I shove her into the shelf, leaning some of my lower weight into her so she can’t knee me again. One of the books on the far side of the shelf falls off the far end with a crash.
She jumps. "Let me go," she says in a breathless voice.
"Remember what I said. Once I catch you, you’ll do everything I say."
"And I said I had a condition."
"Which I’m not agreeing to."
She wriggles against me and the blood drains to my groin. She freezes. "You... you—"
"Am aroused. And if you keep that up I’m going to have to throw you down and take you right here."
Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate. A trembling grips her, and I swear, I can smell the sweet scent of her arousal.
"Liam, please," she gasps.
"Please what?"
"Liam, I—" She shakes her head.
"What is it you want? Tell me, LadyBird."
She bites down on her lower lip.
I stare at her mouth. "No one is allowed to bite you there except me."
She blinks. "You’re crazy."