Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter 47Liana

Twenty-four hours had gone by since that searing, unforgettable kiss.

To my dismay, once we got back to the island, Kingston didn’t scoop me off my feet and ravish me. In fact, he acted as if nothing had happened. It left me no other choice but to behave the same.

I’d rather die than beg a man—even one as hot as Kingston Ashford—for attention.

And then there was the guilt that gnawed at me. Kingston was Lou’s love, not mine. So why did it feel so right? I pulled at my hair and groaned. It might be for the best that we didn’t stoke the fire.

Although, it didn’t stop me from lounging here on the beach, gawking at Kingston’s muscled forearms, unable to tear my gaze away. If he’d only discard his swimming shorts, he’d be gloriously naked and my eyes could have their fill.

My thighs tightened and my skin flushed. It wasn’t a hard fantasy to come up with—even to someone as inexperienced as me. His muscular body would cover mine, giving me toe-curling pleasure as he fucked me… if that kiss and our hook-up in his penthouse were any preview.

Good Lord in heaven. I should have looked away, but I physically couldn’t. His tanned, olive skin rippled. He had not an ounce of fat on him. His broad chest was inked with tattoos that begged to be explored. And then those six-pack abs…

But it was the ink on his strong forearms that always held my interest—almost like an angel wing wrapping its feathers around his forearm protectively.

My breath caught, and every part of me was suddenly in flames. My mouth parted and I discreetly checked to ensure I wasn’t drooling. Thankfully, I wasn’t that far gone. Yet.

It should be forbidden for someone that good-looking to walk around in swim shorts. He should be made to wear a full bodysuit to ensure every woman’s safety.

You’re the only woman here, dork, I reminded myself. I dropped my head, hoping he didn’t see me staring. He shook his head, droplets from his hair sprinkling my skin and doing nothing to cool me off.

“I don’t remember you having a staring problem.”

“I don’t,” I snapped, my voice too breathy. “Maybe I’m not the only one with a memory problem.”

“Uh-huh.”

My gaze shifted back to him without my permission and my belly pooled with warmth, catching his eyes exploring my nearly naked body. I exhaled a shuddering breath and looked away again, but not before seeing the flash of a smirk on Kingston’s face.

He was an enigma, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was this gaping hole in my memory, or maybe it was something else.

He sat beside me, not even bothering with a towel, and I couldn’t resist. “The sand is going to be up your ass.”

He flashed me a smile, taking my breath away, before he lay down and tipped his face up to the sun. His face, stoic even when sunbathing, tugged at my heartstrings. I stared at him, deciding whether to bring up our kiss and short conversation about not turning back.

“Still not done staring?”

I swallowed, my need to lash out and raise my walls insistent. It was a necessity around my mother and her associates, but around Kingston, I didn’t want to be like that. Some habits were hard to break though.

“Why do you have so many tattoos?”

He didn’t move, but his body stiffened. He didn’t open his eyes. “They invoke fear. Scars draw pity.”

I froze, unable to even breathe.

“Did my mother and Ivan…”

My voice cracked. The words were lost. My thoughts scattered in the wake of the violent hatred that flowed through my veins like lava. For a long moment, we remained quiet, our bodies almost touching.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I swallowed the lump in my throat, too much of a coward to turn and look at him. “When I lost my…” My fists clenched and unclenched next to my otherwise still-as-death body. “Losing my sister killed me. Her screams have never left me.” My jaw clenched as my voice broke.

“Me neither,” he admitted quietly.

For a moment, there was nothing but our breaths, the sound of the waves against the shoreline and the sun against our skin.

“Mother…” My palms started sweating, the noises in my head louder with every uttered word. “She held me responsible.”

“She’s responsible.” The wind swept through, touching my burning skin. “If she needed anyone to blame, she should start with the bitch in the mirror. You’re a victim too.”

I swallowed, needing to hear those words for so long, yet relief didn’t come. Instead, my chest grew heavy and my heart pounded to the rhythm of a drum.

“It doesn’t make it any better,” I whispered. “The scars… I had them too.” It was the first time I had admitted that to anyone. “Cosmetic surgery can do wonders,” I finally said, clearing my throat.

“Is that the reason you don’t like to be touched?”

“Yes.”

My body started trembling. Memories, moments—history, written and unwritten—stuck between us, and I wasn’t sure where it’d take us. All I knew was that I was coming undone, every fragile thread of me ripping apart, bit by bit, losing myself and my twin.

Silence.

The air shifted and a soft breeze caressed me. His cologne wrapped around me, sending a shiver down my spine. His warm, strong arms scooped me up, and it felt like my heart stopped.

“It’s not your fault.”

I brought my palms to his hard chest, his body hot like the sun. I didn’t dare open my eyes. Not when his soft lips brushed against my cheek. Not when they met my own. My fingers curled into his chest, as if I could claw my way through him and bury myself deep inside.

I parted my lips and he captured my bottom one, sucking it lightly. Savoring my mouth as if memorizing every dip and curve.

Before he bit me.

My eyes snapped open to find his brimming with an inferno. The air between us crackled, electricity sending my heart into overdrive. At this rate, I’d end up with a heart attack at the tender age of twenty-six.

“I thought you didn’t like to be touched?” I rasped.

The fire faded from his eyes, turning into sharp black diamonds. His grip tightened on my hips, and then he dropped me, my butt hitting the soft sand.

He left me without another glance, and as he disappeared from view, I couldn’t help but note the irony.

I was the one left with sand wedged in my ass.