Page 47 of Captive Rival: Armani
“It should keep you dry enough,” he says.
And I laugh, because it’s perfect, and because I’m completely stunned that Armani planned our trip to the waterfall right down to waterproofing my injured foot. I can’t believe it was only days ago that I feared for my life. My husband has surprised me yet again with this thoughtful, gentler side of himself.
We carefully make our way down to the base of the waterfall, where a pool of crystal-clear blue water spreads out before us. At the far end of the pool, the water spills over the edge and pounds onto more rocks below. It then creates a river which runs out into the ocean.
Armani sets the basket on the ground, pulls out a woven blanket to spread over the damp earth, and then goes over to the water to test the temperature with a swipe of his hand.
“How is it?” I ask.
“Warm, like bath water.”
“You think it’s deep?”
He grins. “Only one way to find out.”
With that, he stands and pulls his shirt off. I get instant butterflies at the sight of his bare torso, his tattoos, his tight abs. My mouth is watering. He notices my ogling and saunters over to me.
“Why don’t you take a seat on that rock,” he says, “and I’ll take care of your foot first.”
He makes quick work of wrapping the plastic around my foot and ankle and then securing it with duct tape to make it watertight. I slip out of my sundress, glad I wore one of my new matching bra and panty sets today, which Armani seems to appreciate.
“I like you in blue,” he says.
“I like you in nothing,” I shoot back.
Instead of smart-assing me in response, he unceremoniously drops his shorts and steps out of them. He’s not wearing underwear, either. He’s completely naked. My pulse instantly picks up.
Turning his back to me, he walks over to the pool and steps right in. It’s shallow initially, but quickly deepens, the water climbing to his mid-thigh. I find myself licking my lips at the sight of his firm ass, daydreaming about gripping him tight as he pumps into me, urging him on, faster, harder—
“Look at all the fish,” he says, interrupting my reverie.
“Fish?”
He looks over his shoulder and motions for me to join him.
I enter the warm water and gingerly make my way over to Armani. When I reach him, he positions me so I’m standing in front of him and then wraps his arms around my waist.
“Look,” he whispers.
Peering down into the crystalline depths, I can’t miss them. Small fish, hundreds of them, not more than a few inches long. They’re beautiful, swimming in tightly packed schools, their scales flashing bright colors. Some are a silvery blue, some are turquoise, some are a bright, almost fluorescent green. All of them have patterns of bright red stripes or speckles along their flanks.
The water is so clear, I can see all the way to the rocky bottom of the pool, which is made up of smooth rocks, each carpeted in delicate green moss and leafy, undulating plants. Some of the fish swim around our legs, brushing against us without a care.
“This is amazing!” I whisper excitedly. “They’re fearless.”
Armani leads me closer to the waterfall until we’re standing right next to it. The gentle force of the spray drenches us in no time. He laughs as I shake the water out of my hair, right into his face. I look up at him and have a sudden rush of breath. He looks like a fantasy come to life, standing here naked beside this magical tropical waterfall. We’re truly in paradise. I don’t want it to end.
He grows serious as he pulls me close, cupping my face and leaning in for a kiss. It’s so perfect that I can almost forget that this whole thing—the honeymoon, the marriage, the relationship—is all a ruse. But either way, I see no reason not to enjoy myself.
Feeling him stiffen against my thigh, I reach down and give him a squeeze.
“Is it later yet?” I tease, stroking him gently in the warm water.
Instead of answering, he lifts me in his arms and carries me out of the water and over to the picnic blanket. After gently laying me on my back, he slowly peels off my soaked underwear and unclasps my bra, leaving me all but trembling for him. I reach to put my arms around his neck, but he crawls over to the basket and digs around until he finds what he’s looking for.
“A plum?” I ask.
He nods, then straddles me and holds the fruit in front of my mouth.
