After three days on his private island, she felt deliciously good all over. It was the longest vacation
either of them had ever had. With their phones turned off and the company’s decisions temporarily delegated to the COO, there had been nothing for them to do but enjoy each other.
Instead of thinking about work, they’d spent their days making love. Staying in a luxurious, sprawling villa, cared for by a live-in staff of ten, they’d laughed, splashing on the beach, kissing in the shallow blue water, drinking virgin piña coladas and eating seafood brought fresh from the sea.
“You look tense,” her husband informed her now with a wicked smile. “Let me give you a massage.”
Hana shivered as he slowly ran his hands down the length of her bare legs. As she felt his fingers caress and stroke the hollows of her feet, her gaze traced dreamily over the satin smoothness of her husband’s powerful body. His muscular thighs, his flat belly. His thick forearms, laced with dark hair. The hard line of his cheekbones and jaw, shadowed with bristle. His cruelly sensual lips.
Dappled sunlight flashed through the slatted roof of the cabana. A warm fragrant breeze, scented of sea salt and lush tropical flowers, caressed her skin, blowing against the gauzy white curtains that protected them from the eyes of the villa’s well-trained, discreet staff.
This cabana had become one of her favorite places on the private island, on the edge of the pink sand beach, with a breathtaking view of the Caribbean, separated from the bright blue horizon only by the sweep of green palm trees across the cove. And she’d never loved it more than now, on their last precious day before they returned to Madrid.
Antonio’s hands stopped, and his dark eyes seared hers.
“I want you, querida,” he growled.
She caught her breath. In spite of the hours he’d spent making love to her day and night since they’d arrived at this island, she wanted him as badly as if they’d never even kissed, as if she weren’t already carrying his baby inside her.
How was it possible that each time they made love, instead of satiating their desire, it only caused their fire to burn hotter?
Sitting up in the lounge chair, she reached out to stroke his rough cheek. His dark hair, still wet and plastered back, revealed the scar on his left temple where the awful boys at a Spanish orphanage had once beaten a six-year-old boy for crying. Gently, deliberately, she ran her fingertips over the raised scar.
With an intake of breath, he caught her wrist.
“Kintsugi,” she whispered.
His eyes widened. “What?”
Pulling her wrist from his grasp, she explained, “It’s a Japanese art, when broken pottery is rejoined by molten gold. But it’s more than that. It means something broken and repaired is more precious and beautiful than something unused and whole.” Her eyes met his. “It shows history. It shows life.”
He gave a low, rueful laugh. “Oh, Hana,” he said softly. “You make the world new. I wish you could always look at me the way you are now.”
“I will.” She ran her hand slowly down his bare, warm chest, still traced with droplets of water from his dripping wet hair, feeling the softness of his skin over his hard muscles.
Tensing, Antonio looked toward the sea. “Tanaka—”
Her hand froze. “What did Ren say to you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He looked back at her. “I don’t want you to see him again.”
“How can you say that? He’s my friend.”
“And you’re my wife.”
She drew away, the good feelings lost. “You’re being ridiculous.”
But as she started to rise to her feet, he pulled her back. “Fine. We won’t waste our honeymoon talking about Tanaka.” Running his hand down her naked belly, he slowly lowered his lips to hers. “I have something more fun in mind, anyway...”
Any further discussion was impossible as he kissed her. But his lips were barely on hers before there was a wrench below them, as the lounge chair cracked under their mutual weight. At lightning speed, Antonio was on his feet, catching her in his arms.
Held protectively against his bare chest, she looked at him in amazement. “How did you do that?”
“I’ll never let you fall.” He gently lowered her to her feet in front of him, their skin touching, his arms still around her waist.
Behind his handsome face, edged with wild dark hair, she saw the bright blue Caribbean. She felt the warm breezes off the sea.
And she felt it again, her heart swelling inside her as she’d never felt before, rising until she felt like she was nothing but heart, through muscle and bone, to the very edge of her skin. It terrified her.