Page 5 of The Billionaire's Baby

"I have to get back."

"Too late."

"You don’t understand," she snarls. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"So do I." I scratch my chest and her gaze drops there. She swallows. I drag my hand down to my waist and her breathing grows shallow. Hmm, interesting. Apparently, little Miss Perfect here is not as impervious to my presence as she’d like me to believe.

"Don’t do that," she mutters.

"What?"

"That entire showing-off-your-torso thing."

"Was I?"

"You were, and you know it." She tips her chin up. "I demand that you get back to land right now."

"It's that important, huh?" I frown at her.

She tosses her hair back from her face. "Of course, it is. That's what I've been trying to tell you all this while."

"Why don't you tell me what made you get that tattoo, first?"

She scowls, "What tattoo?"

"How many tattoos do you have?" I smirk.

She opens her mouth, and I raise my hand. "Yes, I saw it, when I took off your underwear. Deal with it."

Color smears her cheeks.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?"

I chuckle, "That's not the answer to my question."

She tugs up the sheet then, purses her lips. I wait as she seems to consider her options. "So, if I tell you the rationale behind the tattoo, you'll take me back to land?"

I shrug.

She glowers at me, then snaps back her shoulders. "The line you saw that I had tattooed... It's from my favorite poet."

If you but knew the flames that burn in me which I attempt to beat down with my reason.

I recite it at the same time as her.

"You know the poem?" She frowns.

"Pushkin." I nod. "I know who wrote it. I want to know why you have it tattooed on your back." I hadn't missed the cursive written on one side of her spine; it was beautiful, evocative and unexpected... And yet, exactly the kind of verse I'd expect her to love. Deep, intense, yet fiery and passionate. It is so much Karina, that I have to find out more about it. "Well?" I lift one eyebrow. "Why did you get it?"

She draws in a breath, then glances away. "Because I was so rebellious as a kid and it got me into so much trouble. I got it to remind myself that it’s okay to pick my battles. I don't have to win everything. Just the important ones, you know?"

I stare at her. "You don't like to lose," I mutter, and she tips up her chin.

"Neither do you," she states.

"Which leaves us at a stalemate."

"Which leaves you on the yacht, and me back on land," she insists.