Page 50

Three Months Later

R olling onto my back, I let the sun’s warmth soak into my skin, the soft cushions of the lounge chair molding perfectly to my body. A gentle breeze plays with my hair. Utter bliss washes over me as I listen to the waves, their soft hiss and powerful roar weaving a symphony along the sandy shore.

A shadow falls across me, and I squint up to see Eli’s silhouette against the bright light. Saltwater drips from his hair, trailing down his tanned chest and defined abs. My gaze traces the sharp v-line that vanishes beneath his swim trunks.

Eli smirks, a self-satisfied glint in his eyes as I lick my lips nervously. “See something you like, baby?”

“Maybe.”

He feigns a wounded look before a wicked grin stretches across his face. In the next instant, he hauls me up and over his shoulders.

Squealing as he tilted me upside down, I gasp, “Eli!” I playfully punch his ribs as he strides toward the water, undeterred, and then—without warning—tosses me in. I sputter as I surface, cool water dripping from my soaked hair .

Laughing, he pulls me close and presses his lips to mine before moving to nip at my earlobe. “Have I told you how amazing you look in this bikini?”

“No, I don’t think you have,” I tease, slipping from his grasp. “Race you to the sandbar!”

Before he can respond, I dive into the waves. With strong, smooth strokes, I swim as fast as I can, but I sense Eli gaining on me—then, effortlessly, he slips past.

Emerging from the water, I shoot him a glare, and he just grins. I’m competitive, and I hate losing.

Moving closer, he murmurs, “Don’t pout, baby. It’s okay for me to be better than you at something.”

Nestling into him, I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. “I know a lot of things you excel at.”

I lean in, tracing the outline of his lower lip before biting down gently. His tongue flicks out to meet mine, and they tangle together in a slow, intoxicating dance until we’re both gasping for air.

“We’d better stop,” he says, voice husky, “or I’m going to take you right here, right now, in front of all these guests.”

His expression burns with longing, a deeper emotion flickering beneath it. I feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me, and though I ache to let him make good on his promise, I’d rather not traumatize the other patrons scattered along the pristine white sand.

Surveying our surroundings, I sigh. “I suppose you’re right.” I rest my forehead against his, willing my racing heart—and the insistent throbbing in my core—to settle .

He rubs slow circles over the small of my back, then meets my gaze with intensity. “I love you, Tessa. Forever and always.”

“I love you, too, Eli.” And I do. More than I ever thought I could love someone. He is a part of my soul now. Without him, I’d be a broken mess.

We head back to shore, and once the water becomes shallow enough, I reach for his hand. Fingers intertwined, we make our way to the lounge chairs.

Settling back, I catch sight of a young family nearby. A little girl and her toddler brother are playing in the sand, giggling as they build a lopsided castle.

“Mommy, look!” the girl calls as their mother, watching with a soft smile, praises their work.

The boy squeals with excitement. “Daddy, Daddy!” He is covered in sand from head to toe as he runs to his father, who is glued to his phone. The child launches himself into the man’s lap.

“John! Look what you did,” the man barks, roughly shoving the boy into his wife’s arms as he scrambles to save his phone, cursing like a sailor. The child’s eyes well with tears as he clings to his mother.

“Henry, you scared him,” she says, her voice wavering. “He’s just a child.”

The man’s face twists with anger and disgust as he leans in close to her. “I’ve told you to handle the kids. Now look at me. I’m covered in sand, and so is my phone. Fuck. I’m going back to the room. Be ready for dinner in an hour. I have a client to meet.”

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammers out. “Of course. We’ll be up soon.” She quickly averts her gaze as he stomps away, heading toward the hotel .

A slow rage boils inside me, and I’m halfway out of the lounger when Eli’s hand clamps around my arm, pulling me back. I shoot him an exasperated look, but he leans in, whispering, “We don’t know the full situation yet. Don’t jump to conclusions, Tess. There are witnesses.”

Fuck. He’s right. But after everything with Allie, I’m a little more easily triggered. Drawing in a deep breath, I give a reluctant nod.

Glancing back at the family, I see the woman usher her children toward the water, gently rinsing the sand from the toddler’s limbs while the girl splashes nearby.

Her things are left unattended on the beach, and when my eyes meet Eli’s, we exchange a silent conversation. I rise from the lounger and walk toward them, stepping into the shallows, letting the waves swirl around my ankles.

“Oh my gosh,” I say, beaming. “Your son is adorable.”

The woman startles slightly before offering me a weary but polite smile. “Thank you.”

I wave at the little boy. “Hi.”

He hides behind his mother’s leg before offering me a shy grin.

That’s when I see it—the dark purple bruise beneath her right eye. She’d tried to cover it with makeup, but the heat and saltwater betrayed her.

That bastard.

I’ve seen all I need to see. I’ll make him pay.

Pasting on a bright smile, I bid farewell and stroll back to where Eli’s packing up our things. Leaning down to grab my beach bag, I whisper, “Did you get it? ”

A smug smile spreads across his face as he flashes the key card at me. “Did you doubt me?”

“Never, Stalker.”

An hour later, we sit on the patio of the resort’s restaurant and bar. I take a slow sip of wine, eyes locked on my prey.

Henry and his family are at a nearby table. The kids color while their parents entertain an older couple. The men laugh loudly, drinking as though the island might run dry.

Any moment now, Henry is going to have a very bad time.

It wasn’t hard to find out his food preferences—he ordered the same meal every night. The resort had to special-order his favorite brand of caviar. It hadn’t been difficult to spike it with a potent laxative.

I savor my filet, cooked medium, with a twice-baked potato, while Eli polishes off his shrimp and grits. The food here is excellent—my compliments to the chef.

Eli takes a sip of his beer, watching as their food arrives. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

Grinning, I sit back, waiting for the show.

Within minutes, Henry’s face turns green. He clutches his stomach, looking around desperately. Mumbling something about being right back, he bolts toward the hotel. His tablemates watch him go with mild concern before shrugging and returning to their conversation .

Finishing my wine, I place the glass down as Eli drops several bills on the table. As we leave, we follow Henry’s staggering retreat toward the resort.

“Are you ready to play, Little Killer?” Eli asks.

A wicked grin spreads across my face. “It’s game time, motherfucker.”