Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

She relaxes a little again and says with a huff, “Fine.”

Hooking a hand behind her nape, I drag her closer. “Was that so hard?”

She draws back when I lower my head, escaping my lips. “When did you get back?”

“Just now.”

Her delicate throat bobs as she swallows. “How did it go?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I was worried.”

The knowledge both warms my heart and pains me. I love her concern, but I don’t like making her worry. I give her the truth. “Me too, but I was happy finding you like a scarecrow in the middle of the cabbage field.”

She swats my arm. “That’s not nice.”

“Prettiest scarecrow I’ve ever seen,” I say, cupping her ass.

She gasps as I jerk her against me, bending my knees to show her what her absence and presence do to me. I’m always hard for her.

“I want you,” I say against her lips, the hoarseness of my voice betraying the urgency of my need.

She fists the lapels of my jacket. “Me too.”

When I finally catch her lips in a searing hot kiss, my world turns right for once. It doesn’t mean I trust her yet, but I hope to God she’ll give me the reason I crave.

With enormous effort, I tear my mouth from hers, because I’m not done with my lecture yet. Taking her hand, I lead her back to the Hummer. She doesn’t argue or ask where we’re going as I drive down the dirt track that runs parallel to the river in the opposite direction of the lodge. We pass the fenced area with its vegetable crops and carry on for another few kilometers to the far eastern border of the property. The river flows faster here. The tumbling of the water is more turbulent around the rocks and over the rapids. The noise is much louder.

I park, take the rifle, and come around to help her out. I walk ahead, scanning the footpath for reptiles. After a short hike, we stop on a rock ledge. The drop is spectacular. The cliff forms a semi-circle, and the broad river crashes over the edge in a curtain of water. It’s not as high as the Vic Falls, only about fifty meters, but it’s no less violent. White foam thrashes at the bottom. The mass of churning water swallows the rocks before gushing ahead, carving a canyon through the bedrock in its path to the sea.

Next to me, Cas sucks in a breath. The breeze carries the spray up, misting our faces. The tendrils of hair around her face curls prettily.

“This is the eastern border of the property,” I say above the noise of the water.

She looks at me, her gaze wary. “Why are you showing me this?”

I curl my fingers around her neck and drag her to me. “To show you escaping either by road or water isn’t an option.”

The news doesn’t sit well with her. Under the cloudless sky, a shadow creeps over her face. We’re a long way from trust, but one step closer to her happiness. As I grip the hem of the tank top and lift it over her head, my happiness is complete.

Chapter 11

Cas

With the scary backdrop of the waterfall, Ian strips us naked. He spreads his T-shirt over the rock and sits down, pulling me into his lap so that I’m straddling him. Right there on the edge of the cliff, in broad daylight, he pounds into me. His actions are raw and rough, but the look in his eyes is soft. His energy is spent on driving hard and fast into me, but his focus is on my face.

He studies what he does to me, how every thrust and roll of his hips make my back arch and my vision go out of focus. I come for him with the mist from the waterfall cooling my heated skin. He lets me ride out the aftershocks until I have nothing left to give before fitting a condom and giving up his own release. Our lovemaking is like the river—a frantic rush that tumbles over the edge in a chaotic explosion before easing into a gentle flow again.

He lies down on his back and drapes me over his chest. The sun bakes down on my back, but the fine mist continues to cool me. Before long, my eyes are drifting closed.

“Come on, baby doll.” He cups my ass and nips my ear. “Got to go.”

I groan. “Already?”

“You’ll burn.”

He pulls out of my body, leaving me empty too soon, and grabs my hips to lift me to my feet. Standing over him, I get a good view of his hard, naked flesh. He’s packed with muscle, lean and strong. The dusting of hair on his chest makes me long to drag my fingers over that manliness. I want to trace his tattoos with a fingertip and write the words over my heart again and again. I really want to be happy, not only for him, but also for myself. I want to make it out here and gain my freedom by winning his trust. I imagine us together with no secrets or locks, no permission needed for keys, and for the first time in my life I see forever as a possibility with a man.