“Please,” I begged, my fingers slowly undoing the first two buttons of my top. I slipped a hand inside and fondled my left breast.

“You’re fucking pushing it, Alex.” He sauntered closer, his fingers flexing around the metal shackles. He wanted my wrists locked in them badly—I could tell by the twitch in his jaw and the heat in his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Answers,” I said.

He tilted his head. “Answers?”

“Yeah.” I withdrew my hand from my shirt and gestured between us. “You know, where you actually talk to me?”

He rounded the sofa, careful to keep his steps light and easy, preying on me as if I were a skittish animal.

“I’ll give you two questions after you’re done taking your punishment.”

“Two questions?” I raised an indignant brow. “Is that all my surrender is worth to you?”

“Three questions,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“Four.” I retreated a couple of inches.

“Three. That’s my final offer.”

There was no offer. If I said yes, if I said no…he’d still have my hands in those cuffs and my ass in his truck headed back to the boat. I could fight him. I could run.

But I didn’t want to. Running from Rafe Mason seemed counter-intuitive.

The heavy weight of reality pressed on my chest, leaving no space for light-hearted fun. Not when my insanity held me captive. Rafe would let me go if I put up a good enough fight. I knew he would. For all the black desires and demons he battled, his conscience ruled the better part of him, or he wouldn’t have left me six months ago.

My eyes burned with helplessness, and I turned my face away, hating how he witnessed my weakness. His soft footfalls grew closer, and warm fingertips slid along my arms, over my hideous scars. With no effort at all, he turned me and locked my wrists in place at the small of my back. Whirling me around again, he tried to get my attention, but I refused to look at him. The brush of his fingers on my chin demanded I meet his gaze.

“Are you scared of the water? Do you need me to drug you?”

It wasn’t a threat. He was asking out of genuine concern, and in some fucked-up way, that only made me love him more. I was a prisoner of my traitorous heart. The damn bloody organ didn’t know what was good for me. “I’ll manage.”

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” He grabbed me by the shoulder and ushered me into the morning chill.