Page 81 of The Billionaire's Baby

"Careful," I caution, "don’t hurt yourself, babe."

My heart begins to thud and my throat closes. I tie the end of the rope to the other hank of rope I brought. Then I wind it around my middle, fasten it with enough knots. There, that should hold now. I lower myself to the ground and stretch-out with my head hanging over the edge.

I peer through the pouring rain. Where the hell is she?

"Can you see the edge of the cliff?"

"Not yet."

"Stretch out your hand, slowly… Tell me when you can feel the edge."

The rope vibrates as she moves forward. "Oh, I am there now."

"Okay, wind the rope around your middle. Let me know when you have secured it."

There’s silence, except for the wind and the pelting rain, as she does so. The rope dances as some of the slack is taken up, then the length tautens again. "I’m ready."

"I’m going to haul you up."

"Okay."

"Are you able to use your good leg to balance against the wall, if needed?"

"Yes," she calls back, "I… I think so. I’ll try."

"Good girl."

I begin to haul her up. My biceps feel it, my shoulders protest, I’m pulled forward by the weight of her body, and she screams out, "Ari!"

"It’s fine." I blow out a breath. Still stretched out on my front I dig my toes into the ground for purchase. I tighten my muscles, wind the rope around my palms and haul.

My entire body tenses and my shoulders feel like they are being pulled out their sockets. Pain grips my chest and my back. I grit my teeth, continue to pull her up, slowly, slowly. "You… okay?" I huff out.

"Yes…" her voice is closer. She sounds weak, but at least, she is not panicking.

"You’re doing so well, darling. I swear, it will all be over before you know it. Just a few more seconds, baby. That’s all; hold on…" I continue to haul her up toward me. The rope abrades my skin, the rain drips down my forehead and I blink it out of my eyes.

The wind blows and the rope sways.

"Ari," she screams, and she’s so close now.

"I have you, babe." I firm my lips, draw in another breath and yank upward; her head appears above the edge of the precipice. Finally. Fuck. It’s as if I am seeing a newborn enter the world for a first time.

Warmth flushes my chest. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and I draw on every single reserve of strength left inside of me. I flex my muscles, then dig my feet into the ground and heave. Her entire body slides up and over the precipice. I wrap my arms about her, haul her close, and collapse with her on top of me.

30

Karina

Heat cocoons me, his arms shelter me, the scent of his maleness—the essence of pheromones and dark edginess that is so Arpad—envelops me. The breath rushes out of me, and only then, do I realize how tense I’ve been all along. My legs tremble, I raise my arm—or at least try to, for I find I can’t move. My fingers tremble, my muscles turn to jelly. A shudder wracks me, and another. Pressure builds behind my eyes, moisture clings to my cheeks, and it’s not just from the rain. My shoulders heave and I press my face into his hard chest and allow the tears to flow.

"Shh." He rocks me, runs his fingers down my hair, winds his arm around me, holds me close. "I got you, babe. I got you, and I’m never letting you go again."

I only cry harder, the pent-up pressure from finding myself on his boat, and then trying to resist him and failing, wanting to be tied up by him and not wanting him to know, the sheer intense connection between us, which had made the times we’d come together so much more potent; all of it seems to come to a head, there in his arms, on the top of a peak, on an island in the middle of the English Channel.

"Jesus, Sparks, you’re breaking my heart," his voice whispers in my ear.

I lean back, tilt my chin up. "Kiss me," I sob. "Please Ari, kiss m—"