- Chapter Ten -

Georgia Mary King

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Paralyzing cold swept over my body.

Bubbles flirted with my cheeks and hair, rushing over my eyelids. I'd scrunched them shut to brace for the impact, but the chilly ocean made them impossible to open now. I couldn't see to navigate. The single breath I'd taken into my lungs burst out of me—I had no control.

What the hell had I been thinking?

I'm going to drown.

Something grabbed my arm. It dug in, locking into place, challenging Poseidon himself to try and rip me away. My face broke the surface of the waves; I swallowed more water, choking as I was thrown limply over Conway's shoulder.

He swam hard, avoiding every obstacle that tried to smash us into pieces. We made it to a stretch of rocky beach. Twisting, he curled me in his arms, lowering me to the sand. Large hands cradled my face, turning me sideways so I could spit out a mouthful of briny water.

“Are you crazy?” he snarled, giving me no space. “Did you hope you could kill yourself right in fucking front of me?”

I couldn't talk.  I just hacked wetly. Water had soaked into my sweater, my flesh, my hair. I weighed so much I couldn't even crawl. Then I looked up at Conway, and I became light as a dandelion seed.

His features were knotted into a wretched mess. His hair streamed water constantly into his eyes, yet he didn't blink. He'd warned me that the rocks would slice me to the bone... but it was him who'd been flayed. Each level ripped clean away, one above the other.

Anger.

Hatred.

Disgust.

Beneath it all I saw what he really was.

Afraid for me.

Too late, he understood his mask had slipped. Shaking from the cold—from painful hope—I lifted my hand to his cheek. “I knew you cared.”

Snatching my wrist, he didn't force me away. Conway held me there, the two of us facing each other on our knees. “How could you have been sure?”

“Because you can't trick me. I know who you are, Conway.” Inch by inch, I drew closer to him. As cold as I was, being near him burned. “You'll always be the boy who saved me. Time can't change that.”

He focused on my eyes, his gaze drifting down to my mouth. “Not time. Actions. Georgia, the things I've done—the things I will do...”

“Forget about them. Stop thinking in regrets.”

His lips curved into a hollow smile. “You think we can hide from the world on this beach?”

“We can try.”

His forehead furrowed. “The world won't stop moving just because we don't. You know that.”

The moment was fading, but I wouldn't let it go. There'd never be another chance like this. “Do you remember how you used to help me pretend I wasn't trapped in a basement?”

The rush of pain in his eyes stopped me in my tracks. He shuddered, pulling me even closer. Nothing bigger than a quarter could have passed between us. “Georgia, there's been so many nights where all I thought about was your hand on top of mine in the dark. Your scent, your heartbeat, how smooth your virgin lips were when they touched mine.” Rapid, hot air pushed in and out of my chest as I listened. “It's terribly greedy, but if I could pick then over now... I'd do it.”

His lashes were thick, hiding some of the lust in his stare-but only some. I drew in a sharp breath. His proximity was making me lose control.  My upper hand at proving he cared about me was transforming into something sinful.

Reaching out, he slid his fingertips through my soaked hair. He came around to rub the back of my ear, a touch so intimate I whimpered. That sound was the last straw for him.

Gripping the nape of my neck, Conway kissed me the way dying men kiss their wives... or the way long lost lovers reunite. This was how I'd imagined our destined meeting. In my head, it always began with a kiss.

I folded into him eagerly. He was all hands, all teeth; this wasn't a hesitant boy's kiss. His masculine nose ground along mine, the way wolves greeted each other in the wild. Biting my bottom lip he tugged. “Oh,” I sighed, closing my eyes.

Exploring his neck, then his wide shoulders, I dragged my nails down his soaked shirt. His muscles flexed through the material; I could see every perfect line. Nothing was more tempting than getting lost in this moment.

Conway fisted my wrists, holding me steady. I stared at him with my mouth half-open. “What's wrong?” I asked.

I spotted the last flicker of his passion as it died. “We have to go back inside,” he said. The steel was back, masking his emotions away, hiding the soft part of him that wanted me so badly.

My fingers fell, drifting through the muddy sand by my knees. Gentle waves erased all the proof that he'd dragged me here and rescued me. “How can you go back to being so cruel?”

“Nothing changes just because we kissed, Georgia.”

I didn't respond.

Clasping my face tightly, he bared his teeth like he wanted to terrify me into compliance. “Nothing changes! Nothing can change. Do you get that?”

Looking him in the eye, I smiled sympathetically. “It's too late.”

Because it didn't matter what he wanted.

After our kiss, everything had changed.

****

“What happened to you two?” Lonnie asked.

Conway ignored him, pushing me through the backdoor. We were both dripping water all over the floor. He opened a cupboard, passing me a towel. I clutched it while eyeing Lonnie—had he been watching us from a window, waiting in the house for us to return?

Had he seen us kiss?

No. He couldn't have, the beach was below the cliff. The same rocks meant to break me in two had sheltered me from Lonnie's prying gaze. But here, the closest thing I had to keep him at a distance was Conway.

He'll protect me. He has to. The man had dove into the raging ocean to rescue me. He cared too much to let his awful brother harm me.

I had to believe that.

Crossing his arms, Lonnie wandered closer. “I guess it was a passing storm cloud that drenched you.” His shadow filled the tight hallway; I coiled myself in the towel. “Or did you two take a dip in the ocean for fun?”

Conway put another towel around me, then he dried himself off. “I was showing her that she can't escape.”

Lonnie nodded appreciatively. “Alright, that's a good call. Dad would approve.”

I swallowed down a wave of nausea. I hated hearing that Facile would be happy about anything Conway did.

Lonnie said, “He's expecting you to begin day one of surrogacy.”

I tuned in; this was new information. “I know,” Conway said, his hands digging into my shoulders.

“I'm still wondering if you'll be able to do this.” The younger brother didn't come closer, but his next words punched me in the gut. “If you don't, the job of breaking her becomes mine.”

Imagining Lonnie touching me... doing whatever the fuck breaking me meant... had me swaying in place. Conway steadied me; I leaned into his touch eagerly. “I know what I need to do, Lonnie.”

“You know, sure, but will you actually go through with it?”

Conway's tone dropped to a rasp. “If you doubt me one more time, I'm going to smash all the fingers on your right hand.”

Lonnie's eyebrows went up. “Why that hand?”

“It's the one you jerk off with. And if you can't do that, you'll be so miserable you'll kill yourself, saving me the trouble.”

Listening to Conway threaten his brother brought me back to an old memory of them facing off. Conway had defended me then, like he was now—and that was comforting.

Lonnie was glaring at me. I erased my smile, but it was too late. He'd seen.

With a hand on the small of my back, Conway guided me towards my room. I didn't fight him; I was happy to get away from his brother. He let me inside, backing out quickly. “Stay, I need to get some things.”

Blinking, I nodded. Alone with my thoughts, I ruffled my hair and body with the towels, still shivering. I hoped what he'd gone to get was dry clothes. These were too wet to be cured by a towel.

When he returned, he didn't bring me a new outfit. Conway stepped inside, and right away, his energy was different. Colder... sadder. Regret was written all over his face. He was holding a canvas bag—I snapped my attention to it, then back to his tight frown. “You're going to do something horrible now.”

His eyebrows knotted further. “Yes.”

My feet were stuck to the floor. I let the towels fall, knowing they weren't armor. Nothing could protect me from whatever was motivating Conway to act in his father's stead. His surrogate, Lonnie called him. “I want you to know that I'm sure you have a reason for doing this. Even if you keep trying to convince me otherwise, I know someone is forcing your hand. Your dad... your brother... you don't need to confirm anything. I just know.”

He looked at me with an awful expression; some mixed up combination of being thankful, while also hating himself. He dropped the bag. It landed with a heavy thud.

“It's time to begin.”