The Ceo's Reluctant Wife

Chapter 8: Heat of the Night

The second day on the island felt like walking on a live wire. Ella spent the morning alone by the pool, legs dangling in the cool water, trying to pretend she was on vacation. The sun was merciless, hot, unrelenting, the kind that made sweat bead between her shoulder blades and her bikini top feel too tight. She'd chosen the simplest one she owned; black, modest, nothing flashy. Still she felt exposed.

Alex had disappeared early. She heard the car leave around 7 a.m. probably some business call he couldn't do from the villa. Good. Distance was safer.

But he came back just after lunch. She was reading on a lounger when she heard the gate click. He stepped onto the terrace shirtless, swim trunks slung low on his hips, towel slung over one shoulder.

His skin was already bronzed from the short time in the sun, muscles shifting under it as he moved. Water droplets clung to his chest from wherever he'd been swimming.

He looked dangerous. Like always predator who'd decided to play nice for a minute. He stopped when he saw her. For a long second, neither spoke.

Then he walked over, slow and deliberate. Dropped the towel on the chair next go hers. Sat on the edge of her lounger without asking.

"You're burning," he said, voice low.

She glanced down. Her shoulders were pink. "I put sunscreen on."

"Not enough." He reached over, picked up the bottle she'd left on the side table. Squeezed some into his palm.

Ella's breath caught. "I can..."

"Turn over." It wasn't a request.

She hesitated. Then, slowly, she rolled onto her stomach, heart hammering against the cushion.

He didn't touch her right away. She felt the heat of him first, his body close, blocking the sun. Then his hands. Warm. He started at her shoulders, fingers spreading the cream in slow, firm strokes. Down the curve of her spine. Alonf the dip of her lower back.

She tried to breathe normally. Failed. His thumbs pressed into the small of her back, right above the bikini, and she felt the pressure all the way through her body. A low, involuntary sound escaped her throat.

He paused. "You okay?" His voice was rougher now.

"Fine," she lied.

He continued. Slower. More deliberate. Fingers sliding under the thin strap across her back, tracing the line where fabric met skin. Not crossing it. Just... lingering.

Her skin felt too tight. Every stroke sent sparks down her spine, pooling low in her belly. She pressed her tighs together without thinking.

He noticed.

His hands stilled for a second. Then one slid higher, thum brushing the side if her breast—accidental, maybe. But the way he let it linger said it wasn't. Ella's breath hitched.

He leaned down, mouth close to her ear. His voice was dark. "You're shaking."

"I'm not." She managed to say.

"Liar." His hand moved again down her side, fingers grazing the curve of her waist, then lower, skimming the edge of her bikini. Not inside. Just close enough she felt the heat of his palm through the fabric.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

He spoke again, voice like gravel. "I could make you come right here. Just like this. Without even taking anything off."

Her whole body clenched at the words. "But I won't." His fingers pressed once, hard. then lifted away completely. "Not until you beg."

He stood up. She heard the rustle of his towel, the soft thud of his footsteps as he walked back inside. Ella stayed there, face buried in her arms, breathing hard. She didn't move for a long time.

Later that afternoon, they had to do the 'couple photos' Rebecca had demanded. Sunset on the beach. Handholding. Smiling. Kissing.

The photographer was a local guy, friendly, oblivious to the tension. "Closer tighter," he called. "Like you can't keep your hands off each other."

Alex slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side. His hand rested low, too low, fingers splayed across her hip bone. She felt every inch of contact through the thin sundress she'd put on. She forced a smile for the camera.

Alex leaned in, lips brushing her temple.

"Relax," he murmured. "You're stiff as hell."

"I'm trying," she replied.

His hand slid up her side, thumb grazing the underside of her breast. She gasped softly. He smiled against her skin. "Better."

The photographer snapped away. When the shoot ended, they walked back to the villa in silence. Inside, he stopped her in the hallway.

She turned. "What?"

He stepped too close. Backed her against the wall without touching her. Just his body heat, his scent, something darker.

"You're going to drive me f*****g crazy this week," he said quietly.

She lifted her chin. "Good."

His eyes darkened. "Careful what you wish for." He pushed off the wall and walked away.

That night she lay in bed, body still buzzing from his touch earlier. She could hear him in the next room pacing, then the shower turning on.

She closed her eyes, tried to sleep. Couldn't.

The tension was suffocating. And it was only day two. She didn't know how they were going to survive the rest of the week.

But one thing was clear, Alex wasn't the only one with dark desires anymore. And hers were starting to scare her.