Uncovering You 5: Confessions (16 page)

Especially since his personal life revolves around me.

But I can’t allow myself to feel sympathy for him. He chose his own poison. But still, seeing him like this… it adds an unexpected touch of humanity to him.

A warm feeling starts to rise in my heart. I want to force it down, but the surrounding laughter, the pristine, palm-lined coast, the beautiful villa in front of us… won’t let me. I can’t help but feel, well,
happy
.

“They think you’re a hero,” I say to Stonehart when we’re finally alone inside. The air conditioning provides a welcome relief from the heat.

Stonehart smiles. He sits on the bed, then, without warning, falls back in a great heap. I gasp—then laugh. That is so…unexpected.

“They used to live on one of the neighboring islands,” Stonehart explains. “They were terrified when they found out that somebody—a foreigner—bought their land. When I came here, and decided not to develop, they were beyond thrilled. Manuela begged me to let her work for me. She wouldn’t take any money. She just wanted to show how much she appreciated the change of heart.”

He rolls over and pops his head up to look at me. He seems almost a boy, carefree and unhurried. “Of course, I arranged things with Jose to make sure the family gets paid. We set up a trust for the kids. That’s where the money goes. They don’t need it for anything here. The islanders know how to get by. They fish and hunt for food, and have their own place a few miles inland. Jose
has a kayak that connects him to the main island. Any time they need supplies—medicine, toiletries—that’s where they go.

“It’s a simple life. They thrive on it. If I had gone through with development, they would have lost it all. So yes, in that sense, Lilly…” a mischievous grin plays on his lips, “…they do see me as a hero. But—”

His gaze pierces me, sending a flush of arousal through my body.

“—I like it so much better when the words come from your lips.”

***

“You can go anywhere your heart desires,” Stonehart tells me some hours later, twining a finger through my hair.

In spite of the AC, we’ve both worked up quite a sweat. I feel a little tired, but content. Happy. Languid.

“Huh?” I say, barely following along. “What do you mean?”

“On the island, Lilly,” Stonehart says. “Your collar is deactivated. You don’t have to wear the brooch. You can go explore as much as you want…” He trails a slow series of kisses down the side of my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm. “So long as you don’t try to escape.”

An alarm goes off in my head. In an instant, all the comfort that I’ve been feeling is gone.

“Why would I try to escape?” I ask, trying to brush the suggestion off.

Stonehart gives a lazy smile. “Why, indeed. I trust that you won’t. Besides, we’re surrounded by the ocean. You wouldn’t get far.”

“Jeremy.” I push myself up and look him deep in the eyes. “I am
not
going to make a runaway attempt.”

A brief flash of surprise shows behind those pupils. It’s quickly covered up.

“Good,” he says. He sits up, swings his legs out of bed, stretches widely, and stands. On their own accord, my eyes travel to his firm butt. As Stonehart walks across the room to the bamboo cabinet, the muscles of his legs and back work in their full glory. He slips on a thin, blue robe.

A bit of disappointment bubbles up inside me. He really does have a fantastic body.

He turns to face me again while he works on the sash. “There are some things you want to watch out for,” he warns. “Most of the wildlife is harmless. But there are some species of frogs that are poisonous. If you see any with yellow stripes on their backs, stay away. They won’t attack, but if spooked, they might act in self-defense.”

“I think I can handle a few wayward toads,” I say. “I’ve dealt with more impressive predators in the past.” I pause, trying to decide whether to voice the rest of my thoughts, and then just go for it. “Like you, for one.”

“Like me?” Stonehart asks. “Why, Lily, that might just be the most flattering thing you’ve ever called me. It beats all those descriptions you dreamt up in the limo.”

I cringe. “Please, can we not talk about that?” I ask. I get up, strut to him, and run a finger down his exposed chest. “I like it so much better when we’re both here… in the moment… together…”

My hand keeps moving down his body. It glides over the tight grooves of his abs, then continues lower, and lower, and lower.

I bite my lip as I begin to stroke him. His sex starts to swell immediately in my palm.

“And I thought you’d had enough,” he murmurs in a low, raspy voice.

I shake my head. A diabolical excitement grows within me. “Nope.”

“Woman, you keep acting like this—” I yelp as Stonehart sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the bed, “and I might never want to leave this island.

So much the better,
I think slyly.

And I grab his hair and kiss him.

The next few days pass like a dream. Stonehart wasn’t kidding when he said his time here would be dedicated fully to me.

We go swimming. We sunbathe. We explore the wilderness in the back. I haven’t encountered any yellow-stripped frogs—either figuratively or literally.

Stonehart is… well, the best way I can describe it is that he is finally
Jeremy
. Not Stonehart, but Jeremy. Not cold and calculating but deep, thoughtful, and kind.

If only things were always this way.

The children leave us alone the first day, probably on request of their parents. But, they reappear on the second, and every day thereafter.

Before setting foot on this island, I’d have expected Stonehart to be against such intrusions on our time together. But Jeremy, the new man I see who’s evidence of yet another layer to his psyche, takes it all in stride. More than that. He loves it. He runs around on the beach with the boys, sits down and chats with the girl, helps her set out food, or drinks, or whatever other small errand her mother has delegated to her.

I learn their names. The boys are Aldo, Diego, and Matias. The girl is Luciana. I even pick up a few words of Hispanic: concha da mar, which means seashell, like the one I keep treasured as a gift, and muchacha bonita, which means something along the lines of “the most beautiful woman to walk the face of the earth.”

Jeremy taught me that one.

Two days in, I go on an adventure in the wilds with two of the boys. They have a great time laughing at me when an enormous, red
something
bursts up from the ground and makes me shriek and drop down. Diego grabs my hand and points up, showing me the magnificent red parrot that’s taken residence on one of the higher branches.

The kids, even though they’re close to each other in age, are as different as can be. Matias, the youngest, is by far the biggest troublemaker. Diego, the one in the middle, is reserved and thoughtful… until something new and shiny grabs his attention, and then he’s as spontaneous as can be. Aldo, who gave me the shell, is actually the quietest of the bunch. I can see how he takes care of his brothers and sister, as the oldest.

They’re all best friends. I guess they have to be, with no other kids anywhere, but their affection for each other is contagious. I could tell, even if I never met Manuela or Jose, that they have great parents.

Taking a few hours each day to horse around with the kids is fun. It’s also something I never, ever expected a chance to do—not while serving Stonehart’s five years. But on this island, I’m learning how different things could be.

Could
. That’s the most important, operative distinction. Time here shows me how things
could be
, in a different life, in a different world, in a different existence.

It is not how things
are
. It’s not going to fool me into wavering and forgetting my purpose when we return to America. That will never happen again.

That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself for now. And I do. Immensely. Whether it’s with Jeremy or with the kids, everything that happens feels like it’s bathed in a soft, ethereal glow.

And speaking of Jeremy… well, like I said before, if we were in any other circumstance, the things he’s been doing would be enough to make me start falling in love. He’s sweet and compassionate. He places my needs and desires above his own.

Actually, that’s not exactly true. Probably it’s more that, so often,
his
desires line up quite well with mine.

He and I discover a hidden waterfall together, nestled deep in a lush, green forest glade. We climb to the top and look out, and then he surprises me—and makes my heart leap to my throat—when, laughing, he rips his shirt off and dives into the sparkling water below.

I rush to the edge and look down. All I can see is a small disturbance in the water where he dove in, quickly being obscured by the rushing stream from the waterfall.

“Are you insane?” I scream at him when he surfaces. “You could have gotten yourself killed! How’d you know the water wasn’t shallow?”

He laughs and sweeps his wet hair back. “Don’t act like that’d be such a great loss for you.”

“It would!” I yell, trying hard to make my voice carry over the sound of the falling water. “If you die, I’d be stranded here!”

“Manuela and Jose would take care of you,” he smirks. “Not that bad.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be stranded on a remote Caribbean island forever!”

“You know what I think?” Jeremy asks.

“What?” I shoot back.

“I think that your concern for my well-being might actually be genuine.”

“No shit it’s genuine!” I yell, immensely annoyed with his casual nonchalance. I creep closer to the edge. “It—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence. My foot slips on a wet rock and slides out from under me.

I fall hard on my butt. The air leaves my lungs in a grunt. Overpowering terror fills me as I start to slide forward on the down-slope. Before I can so much as scream, I’m hurtling off the ledge, falling through the air, reaching, grabbing, grasping for anything to stop my fall.

There’s nothing. Cold air rushes over my face. The drop feels endless. My side collides with the hard surface of the water, at an impossibly awkward angle. Pain shoots through me, followed by an immediate numbness that encompasses the left half of my body. On instinct, I try to draw breath, but find nothing but water filling my mouth and nostrils .

I kick with all the strength in my legs, desperate for the surface. I spin too far and lose my orientation. I cannot tell up from down.

Panic overtakes me. I fight the water, clawing and kicking and twisting. But, the suffocating liquid surrounds me. My lungs cry out for air. The convulsive reflex makes me cough. More water rushes in.

I know, in the most pivotal place of my heart, that I am drowning.

Two strong hands grip me under the arms. A moment later—though it seems like a lifetime to my terror-stricken psyche—I break the surface.

I don’t know what happens next. I have only a moment before my oxygen-starved brain blacks out.

I open my eyes slowly. It’s dark. There’s a harsh stinging in the back of my throat.

I hear the rustle of running feet, then a door open and closes. A moment later, a dim overhead light comes on.

“Lilly.” It’s Stonehart. His voice comes from behind me. I crane my neck to look back, but he’s at my side in an instant.

He takes my hand and grips it tight. I can feel the stress pulsing through him. I look at him, then past him. It takes me a long time to recognize the space we’re in as the bedroom.

“How did I get here?” I ask weakly.

“I carried you,” he says. “I was so worried.”

“About little old me?” I give a strained smile. I feel weak, probably from a mixture of dehydration, lack of food, and my most recent misadventure. “Hey, I’m tougher than you think.”

“You’ve been out for two days,” he tells me.

That’s when I see his red-rimmed eyes. His untrimmed facial hair. His crumpled shirt.

He looks awful. Worse than I’ve ever seen him. Here is a man who looks like he has been to the precipice of hell and back.

“Lilly… what happened…. was my fault.” His hand tightens around mine. “I was careless, and you got hurt. I can’t forgive myself for that.”

Of all the things he can be repentant about, he chooses
this
?

“I haven’t left your side once,” he tells me. “Manuela and the others are in the adjacent room. They’ve been worried sick.”

“Tell them… that I’m fine.” I start to push myself up. “Just a little hungry.”

“No.” Stonehart’s hands grip my shoulders. He eases me down. “Stay there. Don’t move. Whatever you need, I’ll get for you.”

He’s caring for me.
Again
. Somewhere deep inside, a tiny grain of hope emerges and tells me that maybe, this side of Stonehart is candid. Or at least, that it comes from an honest place of concern.