I love you.

Price’s words echoed in my mind as I hurtled toward another orgasm. He’d never been quite so rough with me, but I understood his need and his passion. I shared them. I felt every thrust, every convulsion as he emptied into me. The metal railing gnawed into my waist, but I didn’t care. He could have me. All of me. I was his.

“Mine,” he said against my neck as if reading my thoughts. “Mine. My Kate.”

As I fluttered downward, back into my mind, still he held me, his hands squeezing my flesh. We stayed still for a few moments, until finally I could go no longer without looking into his eyes. I tried to nudge him away.

“Price.”

“Mmm.” His groan vibrated against my neck.

“I… I need to…move.”

He released me, and I turned, looking down. My skin was red and swollen where he’d gripped me as he pounded into me. Our passion had always been off the charts, but never before had he left a mark on my body.

Before he could notice and say anything, I gazed into his dark eyes. Something new was there. Something I’d never seen before.

“Price. What is it?”

His gaze fell to my hips. “Oh, God. Baby, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Did I hurt you?” He gently caressed the red bar across my waist.

“That? No. That was just the railing.”

“Here?” He fingered the slightly raised welts on my hips.

I cupped his stubbled cheek. “It’s okay. I’m fine. But what’s going on? Something happened. Something made you go all…feral.”

I put my bikini back on while he secured his trunks around his hips and then threaded his fingers through his dark hair, closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, his eyes were glassy. I’d never seen Price cry. He got misty every once in a while, but never had I witnessed an actual tear river down his cheek. Until now. It threatened to cut my heart into pieces.

I thumbed it away. “What is it, babe? It’s okay. I promise.”

He shook his head. “I have no right to ask you this.”

“You’re my husband. You can ask me anything.”

“No. Not this. I gave up my rights a year ago. I couldn’t expect you to…”

“To what?”

He rubbed at his temples. “I just can’t stand the thought of it. Makes me want to—” He brought his fist down on the metal railing. “Damn!”

My pulse quickened. Price was fairly even-tempered. At least he had been. God only knew what he’d been through this past year. Maybe he was ready to tell me some of it.

“The thought of what?” I reached toward him and glided my fingers up his forearm. “You can tell me. You can tell me anything. Maybe it’s time. Tell me what happened.”

He let out a haunted laugh. “You have no idea.”

“I’m sure I don’t. But I will after you tell me.”

“I mean, you have no idea what’s bothering me. And I have no right to let it bother me.”

I entwined my fingers with his. “You’re talking in riddles, Price. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He led me to a padded bench on deck and we sat down. He played with my wedding ring on my left hand, turning it around on my finger. “You’re still wearing this.”

I smiled. “We’re still married, aren’t we?”

“I’m glad we got platinum instead of yellow gold. It’s perfect against your fair skin. And it lasts forever.”

A lump lodged in my throat. I’d put the ring on my left hand for this vacation, but what Price didn’t know was that I wore it on my right hand when I went to Spain. Oddly, it had been Michelle’s idea. She’d convinced me it was time, that it was the first step in getting on with my life. Of course, that was before she knew Price was alive.

I cleared my throat and said simply, “It’s always been a beautiful ring.”

“Not as beautiful as the woman who wears it.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. “There’s something I need to know.”

“Of course. What?”

“I was gone a year, baby.”

“Believe me. I’m well aware of that. The worst year of my life.”

“I know. I mean, I hope it was.” He shook his head. “Shit. That sounds all wrong. The last thing I ever wanted was for you to hurt.”

“I understand.” I wasn’t sure I did, since he hadn’t told me the whole story yet, but he looked so tormented I had to appease him. I couldn’t stand that he was hurting.

“Like I said, I have no right to ask you this, but I have to. Call it a shortcoming of mine. Kate…was there anyone else?”

A rock landed in my stomach. How could I have had no idea that was coming? There hadn’t been—not really. How honest could I be? Would my little flirtation in Spain matter to him? For that was all it had been—a few laughs and a few kisses—and Price had never left my mind. I’d learned the hard way that I wasn’t ready yet to move on, that I was still very much in love with my dead husband.

Who wasn’t dead after all.

He looked into my eyes. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“I can still read you. Tell me. Please.” He closed his eyes. “Rip the bandage off.”

“Has there been anyone else for you?” I asked.

“Of course not!” He stood, his cheeks reddening even in the dusk. “I’ve been running and hiding, trying to keep from getting killed, trying to set up what could be a life for us. When the hell would I have had time to fuck someone else?”

I straightened my spine but didn’t stand. Jealousy. That’s what I’d seen in his eyes that had never been there in the past. We’d never been jealous of each other. We’d always been secure in our commitment. In our love.

I heaved a sigh. If I expected him to be honest with me, I would have to offer him the same courtesy. I secured my bikini, walked toward him, and caressed his shoulder.

“Come back and sit with me,” I said.

He gazed out to sea. “Do I want to hear this?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” I squeezed his upper arm, which was tense and rigid. “I promised you today would be just for us. I agreed not to pester you with questions, and I haven’t. Do you still want me to answer your question?”

“Damn. Yes. I need to know.”

He followed me back to the bench where we both sat down again. I took his hand.

“First, I promise, I haven’t been with anyone else. Not intimately.”

He barely concealed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“But there was someone who pursued me. It happened during the trip to Spain.”

He nodded tersely, his countenance still rigid.

I swallowed, gathering my courage. “His name was Alejandro Dominguez.”

Price winced.

I covered our joined hands with my remaining hand. “He was…” I closed my eyes. The truth was, he’d reminded me much of Price—the same size, same coloring, same dark and smoky eyes. “A lot like you, actually. In looks and in personality. He was a reporter covering the protests, so that’s how we met.” I paused, giving him a moment to adjust.

“Go on,” he said through gritted teeth.

“He asked me to go for a drink, and I said yes, just because I thought I could get him to share some sources with me. His English was excellent, which was good, because as you know, my Spanish is a little rusty.”

He nodded, still tense.

“Still, I hesitated, but when he called me Catalina—Spanish for Katherine—I decided to go. The name made me feel like someone else, and someone else might go, right?” I gave a nervous laugh. “That probably sounds like nonsense, but being Kate had brought me nothing but sorrow for so long. It seemed like a good idea to be someone else. Anyway, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get to know him. We talked a lot about the story, but we also talked about other things. He was recently divorced, and I told him I was widowed. We shared a bottle of Rioja and ate seafood paella at this little dive he called a ‘hidden gem.’”

I left out that I’d tasted food for the first time in months that evening. The crispy edges of the paella, the succulent scallops and clams, the sticky rice flavored with saffron—all had been heaven for my taste buds. The wine had been full-bodied yet fruity, perfect with the spicy dish.

I sighed. “He made me laugh, Price. And I hadn’t laughed in so long. So when he…”

“When he what?”

“When he”—I winced—“invited me to his place—”

Price squeezed my hand hard.

I drew in a deep breath. “Remember, I thought you were dead.”

He loosened his grip a bit. But only a bit.

“I considered it. He seemed like a nice guy, and I liked him. But I decided it wasn’t good judgment to go to a stranger’s home in a foreign country. So he walked me to my hotel, and he”—just say it, Kate—“kissed me.”

Price’s vise grip clamped my hand once more.

“I tried to respond…”

I paused, remembering. Alejandro’s kiss had been nothing like Price’s. And suddenly I realized why the paella and Rioja had tasted so good. I’d been fantasizing that Alejandro was Price. I’d focused on his dark beauty, and I had gotten past his Spanish accent, his designer clothes that Price would never be caught dead in. But the kiss. I couldn’t get past the kiss. While there’d been nothing inherently wrong with Alejandro’s kiss, and I might have found it pleasant under different circumstances, it was completely different from Price’s kisses. Most importantly, despite my physical attraction to him, I hadn’t felt anything—no passion, no desire, not even a spark of lust.

I wasn’t Catalina. I was Kate, and Kate was in love with Price.

“But I couldn’t, Price. It felt all kinds of wrong. So I apologized, thanked him for the dinner, and went to my room alone.”

Alejandro had tried to change my mind, indeed had gotten quite persistent. My husband didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t important, anyway. The other man had eventually taken no for an answer and gone on his way. I returned to my room and placed my wedding ring back on my left hand where it belonged.

Though we’d exchanged email addresses, I hadn’t heard from Alejandro since.

Gradually, Price loosened his grip on my hand. “Is that it?” he asked gruffly.

I nodded. “That’s it.”

“Good. Never again, okay?” His eyes were still dark with jealousy, still glassy with unshed tears.

I touched his cheek, reveling in his warm, scratchy stubble. This was a promise I could easily make. “Never again.”

He stood, scooped me into his arms, and traipsed down the stairs to the master bedroom, where he laid me gently on the queen-size bed. “No one else,” he said, more gently than I expected. “No one but me touches this beautiful body of yours.” He traced my lips with his index finger. “No one but me kisses these lips.”

“No one but you.” I closed my eyes as his mouth came down upon mine.

The kiss was passionate and sweet at the same time—the cementing of two bodies and two souls who had been lost without one another. He slid his hands downward and removed my bikini top while I wriggled out of the bottoms. His cock pressed against me through his trunks, and I smoothed my fingers over his hips, pushing the garment down, lingering my touch on his warm skin. When we were both naked, he entered me gently, no foreplay other than our kiss.

Sweet, smooth perfection. I was always ready for him. Would always be ready for him. My body would forever be home for his.

I could have climaxed quickly, but I held off, as did he. We had transcended beyond simple need, lust, desire. This was only love. Pure love. Together we savored it as he slid in and out of me, letting the intensity build gradually. Our gazes never strayed from each other’s, and in Price’s I saw—not just with my eyes but with my very soul—all the love I felt for him mirrored back at me.

When our climaxes emerged in tandem, our lips met as we erupted together.

We stayed joined afterward, turned on our sides, our slick bodies melded together. Price breathed heavily against my neck, and I inhaled his spicy fragrance. All island, sea, and man.

“I love you so much, Kate.”

“I love you so much too. Only you, Price. Forever.”

He pressed his lips to my cheek, and I closed my eyes. This would be our bed. We’d always had a king-size, but there was limited room on the boat. Queen-size would keep me closer to Price, which was fine, because I was never letting him out of my sight again.

If I stayed, that was.

If I stayed…

If…

Who was I kidding? I could never leave—

A vibrating buzz interrupted my thoughts. Price kissed me quickly and then rolled to the nightstand to retrieve his cell phone.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw the screen, but he didn’t take the call. Instead, he stood and pulled his trunks back on. He went to the small closet, took out a cotton shirt, and covered his bronze chest. Then he turned to me.

“We have to go. I have to dock the boat for the night.”

“Who was that on the phone?” I asked.

But he’d already left the room.