CHAPTER SIX
For nearly a week after arriving on the island, Naruto gave her the space she craved, as well as endless hours of time alone.
They didn't take meals together. They didn't sit down together for drinks or conversation. If they met, it was only in passing, and even then Hinata felt tense, awkward.
She wasn't just uncomfortable about what had happened between them. She was ashamed. The only comfort she found was the knowledge that what happened wasn't going to happen again. And the distance between then and now had helped her understand that the explosive chemistry between them had been a result of fear, fatigue, adrenaline. It wasn't normal, or natural, and the same situation wouldn't arise here on the Rock.
But still, she regretted her loss of control. She'd let someone in too close. She'd let Naruto see—know—far too much of her life and it was dangerous. Dropping her boundaries for even a moment was dangerous.
A week after arriving on the Rock, Hinata left her bedroom and was heading downstairs when Naruto appeared in the hall, dressed in faded black sweatpants and an old black T-shirt.
"I'd heard you were going for a walk," he said, standing at the bottom stair, waiting for her.
She froze half way down the staircase. They hadn't spoken in a couple of days and his sudden appearance, his very male appearance unsettled her. He looked far too physical in the faded cotton sweats and T-shirt, the soft fabric clinging to the rugged planes of his chest, his biceps bare, his sweatpants sitting low on his hips, the sturdy cotton outlining the lean line of his thighs.
She knew what he looked like without the clothes, knew the golden skin underneath, knew the curve and knot of muscle. He'd feel warm. He'd feel hard.
He'd feel too good.
It'd been a week since their night on Sao Tome and yet suddenly it felt like yesterday. "Yes," she answered, her breath strangled, and she smoothed her short green skirt flat against her thighs, wishing now it was a longer length. It looked crisp and fresh this morning in her closet but somehow Naruto always made her feel exposed.
The nervous kneading of her hands drew his attention and he glanced at her thighs, noting the shortness of her dark green skirt and the length of bare, tan leg revealed.
"So you're feeling better?"
"Yes."
"Ribs not as sore?"
"Haven't had pain in a day or so."
He nodded, pleased. "Good. We'll get started then. You might want to change." Her eyes narrowed and she eyed him warily. "Change for what?"
"Self-defense classes. It's essential. You have to know how to protect yourself."
Naruto gestured at her slim olive skirt. "So if you're going to change—"
"I'm not." she answered firmly, defiantly. She wasn't going to slip back into a submissive role. He was not in charge. He was not in control. "I'm quite comfortable as I am. Besides, this shouldn't take long."
He shrugged. "Fine. You're the princess."
He led her downstairs, to the bottom floor of the villa. She'd only been to the lower level once, and that was on her second day here. It was Naruto's floor.
She knew his office suite was downstairs, along with a spare bedroom, but she hadn't known about the gym.
The work out room was huge and surprisingly airy. The room accommodated all forms of exercise, from a wall of racked weights and benches to a state of the art treadmill and high tech exercise bike. In one corner a red punching bag hung from the ceiling, while bright blue mats covered nearly half the large hardwood floor.
"Come." he said, kicking off his running shoes at the door. "Join me on the mat."
Hinata removed her leather sandals and cautiously walked to where Naruto waited lor her on the bright blue rubber mat facing the mirror.
"First thing," he said, moving to stand behind her. "'Is that you must be aware of your surroundings at all times. You must be conscious of where you are and what's happening around you."
She nodded, skin tingling, acutely aware of him behind her. Sensitive to everything about him. His size. His strength. The hard angle of his jaw.
"You have security detail. Bodyguards. Police escorts." he continued, stepping closer so that his breath brushed across the back of her neck, below her high ponytail. His breath was so warm on her skin and she balled her hands, willing herself not to shiver.
But when his arms encircled her. His hands resting on her hips she jerked violently.
"It's not enough to rely on others to protect you," he continued, his voice in her ear. His hands holding her hips securely. He'd always known how to hold her. Firmly.
Calmly. With all the confidence in the world.
"Someone could get distracted," he was saying, even as her pulse raced, her head spinning with sensation.
He was relentless, she thought, his voice assaulting her. His body so warm behind hers.
"There could be another threat requiring immediate attention, your security might need to clear an obstacle, tackle an intruder, jump to protect Kaori. And in those moments you could be left completely exposed." His breath was caressing her neck, her skin, her body growing hotter by the second, her body betraying her yet again.
She burned at the feel of his hands, shuddered when his body came into contact with hers. She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror. Naruto so large, towering over her, his big arms around her. His legs planted wide.
He was gorgeous and terrifying.
She could see his blonde head tip as he spoke to her. Saw the intensity in his expression, as well as the urgency.
Her mouth dried. She stared at them, the reflection of the two of them. She looked so small next to him, and it looked natural, too, as if they'd been carved from the same piece of stone, he on the outside, her on the inside, nestled against his chest.
"You need to know what you're going to do before it happens." he said, sliding his hands up her rib cage, wrapping his arms around her chest. "You need to know how you'll handle an attack, know the best way to break a hold. Like this." he said, his arms locked around her chest, his hands practically molding her breasts.
She tingled at the warmth of his hands against her breasts. It was like she had a million nerve endings, and they were all screaming, especially when he shifted and his hips brushed hers, his thighs nudging the back of hers.
"Feel this?" he asked.
She met his eyes in the mirror, mutely nodded. How could she not feel it? She was burning up. Her bare legs no match for the heat emanating from him.
"By the time someone has you trapped like this, it's over."
It was already over, she thought dizzily, heart racing, body trembling from head to toe. She might get off the island, return to royal life, but she'd never get over him.
He tightened his arms a fraction. "I've got your arms pinned to your side. My stance is too wide for you to kick backward, or connect with a knee."
For a moment they stood there, locked together, and again she met his gaze in the mirror and saw something so fierce, so intense in his expression that she wondered how she could have possibly thought that she could manage to control this... that she'd be able to indulge in a physical relationship with Naruto and not be destroyed.
He wasn't going to let her go. She realized, panic rising. Not now. Not ever. He must have felt her panic because his arms abruptly fell away, and she was free.
Free, but not free. Safe, but not safe. She'd jumped from the fire into the frying pan. Hinata drew a quick breath, glanced at Naruto.
His dark eyes rested on her. "I'm going to grab for you again." he said calmly.
"When I make a grab for you this time. Put your arms up, like this." He pulled his arms close to his chest, elbows in. "Then as I bring my arms around, use your arms to break free. Push up and out."
She did as he said, but she couldn't break free at all.
"Try it again."
"I can't."
"You can. Be aggressive. Hinata. You have to power up. Shoot your arms out. Think explosive."
Explosive. That's exactly what she was thinking, but not the way he meant. Each time he touched her she shivered. Every time he spoke, his voice burrowed deep inside her, a honeyed heat that she found impossible to resist. She knew how it was in his arms, in his bed. She knew how his body moved against her... in her... she knew too well what he felt like, and how desperately she wanted to feel that passion and pleasure again and again.
I'm lost, she thought, dizily. I've never been in so much trouble in all my life.
They practiced the move until he was satisfied barely and then it was another position, him wrapping his arms around her, lifting her bodily off the ground. "Kick out. Aim for my kneecap." he said.
His chest was so hard against her back, his arms like steel bands.
"I don't want to hurt you," she panted.
"I'll take that chance."
She felt like she was flailing in his arms, uncoordinated, gawky, weak. Her legs swung, trying to connect with him but unable to find a knee. "This is ridiculous," she said, fushing, her breath coming hard. She didn't want to be fighting him. She didn't want to be in this horrid tug of war in the first place: and it was a war. This was passion versus reason.
She knew her desire for him was illogical. It was pure animal instinct, carnal and physical, and so unlike her real self she knew it'd never last.
"You're not trying." he charged.
"I am!"
He put her down, swung her around to face him. His hands resting on her shoulders.
"This isn't a game, Princess."
She reached up knocked his hands off her shoulders. "Don't you think I know that?" She shot back, humiliated. She couldn't understand what was happening inside of her. Couldn't understand this crazy love-hate swamping her. "I'm trying. But this isn't natural for me. This isn't like anything I've ever done before."
"Yet another disservice at the hands of your family." His tone was harsh, cutting. "They did nothing to prepare you for reality. Did they?"
"You know nothing about my life."
His eyes sparked. "I know all about powerful families, families where duty comes first; families where loyalty and obligation is everything."
"My grandparents did everything they could, and I'm very grateful to them—"
"For selling you off to their wealthy neighbor?"
"It was what was best—"
"For your family. For your country," he interrupted yet again, his voice grating across her nerves, his jaw tight. "Tell me. Was saving everyone else worth it?"
"Yes." Her chin lifted. Her eyes met his, clashed, challenging him to contradict her again. "Yes. And I'd do it all over again if asked."
"You're kidding yourself."
And if she was? It was no business of his. He was her bodyguard, dammit. Not her partner. And most certainly not her husband. "Why do you even care?"
"Why don't you care more?"
She shook her head, momentarily speechless. "You have more opinions than any man I've ever met."
He was breathing hard now. "I might have a lot of opinions, but I back up my talk with action."
Her hands balled at her sides. "Unfortunately for you, Naruto, there doesn't seem to be anyone you can beat up right now."
"Maybe it's you that needs a good swat on your pretty, little behind."
"Oh!" She seethed with indignation. "I think I need some different company."
Marching to the door, she jammed her right foot into one sandal and then the left.
"I'm going for a walk." she said in a strangled voice. "And don't follow me. If this is really your island, your Rock, then I ought to be perfectly safe getting some fresh air!"
Hinata swiftly climbed the stairs back to the main level, exited the villa through the front door, and crossed the driveway, walking down the long winding driveway.
Her eyes were tilling with wretched tears and she silently cursed herself, cursed Naruto, cursed the fact that she, who never used to cry had become one massive tear duct.
She hated him.
Absolutely positively hated him.
No one else had ever gotten under her skin this way. No one else had ever made her feel so helpless... so confused... so completely off balance. It only took a couple words from him, one long searing glance, and she felt apart, dissolving into a tearful, jagged mass of emotion.
The fact that he had such power over her scared her. Made her furious. Made her want to scream.
Hinata stumbled on a rock and righting herself, laughed at her stupidity. Of course Naruto was right. Of course it horrifed her that she'd married only to lose herself, married only to be destroyed. But it wasn't supposed to have happened that way. It was supposed to be a real marriage. A good marriage. A good life.
She shook her head, haling these thoughts, unable to remember the past, unable to look too far into the future. She never used to dwell on her life this way. She never thought about herself at all. But something had happened the night the plane veered off course, shuddering, shimmying. It was as if the plane on breaking apart had broken something loose inside of her.
The plane was wrecked.
Her world was shattered.
And who was going to fix her? The plane could be replaced. But what about her?
What about this wanting? How in God's name would she ever stop feeling now that she'd started?
Naruto swore beneath his breath, standing on the terrace on the main level watching his princess strut down the driveway, her slender legs bare to mid thigh, her skin the color of sun kissed wheat, her long dark hair swept up in a ponytail high at the back of her head.
He'd never met a more sassy thing. He swore bitterly again. She was making him crazy. She was making him burn. She was nothing like Chieko. Chieko was blonde, dark olive skin, shy. Sweet.
Hinata might long to be reserved, and she played the ice queen well, but she wasn't sweet.
No, she wasn't sweet. She was hot, she was intense, she was smart.
And he wanted her like he'd never wanted anyone. He'd tried to stay away from her. He'd tried to keep his distance, but his self-control was wearing thin.
Very, very thin.
Hinata left the road where it merged onto a smaller path, the grass trampled flat, and followed the dirt path as it began to slope downhill.
She'd had it with men. She didn't want them. Didn't need them. Didn't want anything but to be free. And alone.
She tramped on. Arms swinging, temper surging, the warm sun overhead making her thirsty.
If she'd been a real woman, she told herself, she would have told Hiro to get lost. If she'd been a real woman, she would have set him straight. She would have left him the first time he raised a hand against her. Instead she tried to reason with him. And then before she knew it, she was pregnant, and the baby changed everything.
Because the baby trapped her in The Tea Country. Even if she left The Tea Country, the baby would be Hiro's heir. She should have left him the first time he lost his temper like that, should have packed her bags and headed home and never looked back.
Why did she wait? Why did she hesitate? Love. She'd once loved him enough to imagine a happy life with him. And then when the love was dashed by misery, she still found hope, and hope made her believe that something good could come of her pain. That something good might still happen for her one day. Hinata shook her head slowly, overwhelmed by the endless memories, the mountain of regrets.
The path continued to drop, descend, and rounding the side of the hill Hinata glimpsed the sea again, and then a cluster of houses and whitewashed buildings along a narrow road.
Small red and blue boats were tethered to a low stone wall. Goats grazed in a pasture behind several of the houses. A little tavern with blue painted tables and chairs overlooked the water, hugging rocky land between the road and sea. It was a real Greek village, a charming little town with a shop and tavern and dark-haired children playing football in the street.
She'd been here a week and hadn't even known it existed. Pausing at the edge of the village. Hinata watched the boys. Life in Konoha was like this. Little boys teasing girls in the street, little girls sticking out their tongues. Little boys growing up into teenagers with crushes on the teenage girls.
One of the boys spotted Hinata and picked up the black and while ball, holding it against his hip. The other boys turned and stared at her.
She felt a funny flutter in the middle of her chest. She was obviously a stranger here, and for a moment she was tempted to turn back around and climb up the hill again, but on the top of the hill was Naruto and his big whitewashed house that perched above the sea like a predatory bird about to take flight.
No. She wasn't going to go back to the house. She'd walked all the way here. She was going to go on into the village and get some air. And some much needed space. Space away from Naruto Uzumaki. Because somehow he'd taken over her life, taken over her thoughts, her heart, her body, too. She felt the eyes on her as she crossed the dusty road, stepping onto a cobbled sidewalk that must have been part of the island for hundreds of years.
Ducking beneath a canvas awning, she entered the taverna's patio and took a seat at one of the empty tables close to the ocean.
There were four or five older men seated at a table close to the bar. They all stopped talking to look at her. A long measured glance that took in her short linen skirt the color of olives, her fitted white T-shirt, her hair caught up in a high ponytail with wisps now sliding down her neck.
She mustered a smile as she pulled a chair out, but they didn't smile back. Their weathered faces remained perfectly blank. Fine. Be that way . Ignoring them she sat down. Leaned on the table. Looked around. Waited. And waited. And waited some more.
Minutes passed, a good five, ten minutes, and yet no one approached her. No one appeared from the kitchen. The young man behind the long bar never made eye contact.
Hinata felt her temper rise. It was hot. Flushed and sticky from the walk, she really craved a cold drink and some service please. Standing, she crossed the floor, walked to the bar. "I'd like to see a menu, please."
The bartender had been washing out coffee cups and reluctantly he turned the water off. "A menu?"
She hid her impatience. She spoke French, Spanish, English, German and Italian.
Surely he understood the word menu. "I'd like to order something to eat."
The young Greek bartender had thick wavy black hair that fell across his forehead, long dark lashes, and he stared at her as if she were an alien being, then he looked at the group of older men sitting at the table in the shade. One of the older men said something to the bartender and the bartender shrugged.
Suddenly another voice spoke sharply in Greek and everyone shifted into action. Naruto.
The bartender flushed, the old men at the table, shifted their feet, murmured apologetic words in Greek, and Naruto moved toward her. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have been treated like that."
He'd drawn her chair out for her and reluctantly she sat back down. If it'd been tense in the taverna before, it was doubly nerve-racking now. "They don't like me?"
He shrugged. "It was a misunderstanding. That's all." But that wasn't all, she thought. The energy in the tavern, at their table, had changed, become charged, electric.
"He wasn't going to serve me," she added, trying to understand the undercurrents.
"No." Naruto leaned on the table, looked at her. His gaze hard, heated. "They know you're off-limits."
"Off-limits?"
He leaned even closer so they were just inches apart, his blue eyes burning into her. Telling her with his eyes what he hadn't yet said with his lips. "They know, pedhaki mou, you're mine."
Her heart hammered wildly. He was so close. She could see each dense black eyelash, the tiny bits of copper reflecting in his dark brown eyes. "But I'm not yours." Her voice came out faint.
He simply stared at her. His upper lip barely curving. It was the coolest, most sardonic smile she'd seen in her life, a smile so cool, so sardonic she was forced to look away, hands clasped beneath her chin to keep her wildly beating heart in control.
"You're here." he said softly. "Actions, not words."
Still looking away. Hinata swallowed hard, stared at the line of sand and sea. If she were completely honest she'd admit that the danger waiting for her in the Tea Country seemed far more manageable than the danger sitting across the table.
Cold drinks arrival. Then a basket of breads and crackers appeared, soon followed by goat cheese, olives, and marinated vegetables.
Life here was like a medieval village. She reached for a hunk of the crusty bread, tore off a piece and dipped it in the fragrant olive oil.
They ate an early lunch, and after they were finished Naruto leaned back, and watched Hinata. She'd relaxed, he thought, studying her. She'd dropped her guard long enough to enjoy the village, and he could see her take in everything, from the two fishermen down at the water to the group of men at the table next to them.
One of the men nearby laughed, a deep hearty laugh and Hinata looked at Naruto.
"Zeno," he said. "Our resident Papa."
Hinata smiled at his explanation, a tiny dimple flashing at the corner of her mouth and his gut tightened.
He wasn't going to let this get out of control again. Not even when she looked at him like that, with a shy glance so full of need and want from beneath her thick dark lashes, her eyes half-smiling up at him. Her eyes a warm pale lavender. She was beautiful, elegant, refined, sophisticated. And yet when he looked into her eyes he saw a world of sadness she prayed no one would see. And most people wouldn't see it. Most men wouldn't know what it was. But he recognized the starkness of the pain that made her eyes an even more startling purple.
She'd had her heart crushed, and like the young woman she'd been, she hadn't even seen it coining. Women, he'd learned, were nothing like men. Women looked forward to love and marriage because it was going to be cozy... warm... happy. They were going to be beautiful brides and beloved young wives and then the first of the cherished babies would come along.
Naruto turned his head away, looked out at the dark blue water and the sailboat sailing across the sparkling waves.
Chieko had been like that, too. She'd been so happy to be with him, so happy to be married to him. They didn't have long together, just two and a half years. She was pregnant when she died.
Seven and a half months.
His mouth filled with bitterness, the acid of old. There had never been an hour where he could forget. He'd been raised to be a man and men wanted to protect those more vulnerable. They were driven to protect their women, their children...
Hinata's hand touched his arm. "Naruto."
The red glaze that filmed his eyes faded away. He turned to look at Hinata. She barely came to his shoulder and her thick glossy navy blue hair gathered in that high ponytail made her look young, far younger than her thirty years.
She was still so innocent, he thought, still so naive. Without thinking he reached out, combed a stray tendril of hair from her dusty rose cheek.
She blushed, her gaze dropping. He couldn't imagine how anyone could raise a hand against her. Couldn't imagine how Hiro could do anything but protect her.
Her lashes lifted and she looked back up at him, an uncertain smile curving her lips.
"Have you ever been married?"
"Once." His features looked closed, unreadable.
"Why didn't you ever marry again?"
"Not interested."
"Was your marriage that bad?"
"No. It was that good."
"Oh." She ducked her head again, and she looked so wistful, so much like a kid outside a candy store.
"Would you marry again?" he asked, watching her eyes widen, his sapphire blue so much like the sea.
Her expression immediately shuttered, the veil dropping back over her eyes, hiding thought, emotion, turning her back into the remote ice princess. "No."
"Why not?" he persisted.
Color darkened her cheeks but she looked agonized. "The whole princess thing scares people."
That wasn't it at all, he thought, feeling something inside him wrench. She was lying to him. Lying to herself, deliberately twisting the truth. Her marriage had been horrible. Marriage had scarred her. Scared her.
Aware of a new tension within him. Naruto leaned forward, rested his weight on the table, moving closer to Hinata, close enough to see all the skin her small Tshirt hadn't covered, the shadow between her breasts and the small golden brown freckle on her collarbone.
He'd never tell her that her vulnerability moved him. That her isolation profoundly touched him. A princess with her wealth, and her beauty, could have been cold, and yet Hinata was the opposite.
Her softness was everywhere in her eyes, her lips, in the yearning in her expression. She reminded him of a girl who jumped from childhood to adulthood without a parachute, or the necessary years between.
"I'm not scared," he said quietly, feeling her body hum. Watching her face, her emotions barely veiled. "You're a woman. Not a machine."
Hinata's mask suddenly dropped and for a split-second she looked at him with outright longing. The loneliness in her eyes cut him. She'd been abandoned too many years ago. Adrift too long.
His body burned. His fingers itched. He wanted to take her face between his hands and kiss her. Kiss her until she melted into him. Until those high walls around her fell, kiss her until she warmed, her body and heart as hot as his.
"We've company, boss." The young bartender's voice rang out, breaking the tense silence.
Looking up. Naruto saw the bartender had binoculars fixed on a point out at sea.
"What do you see?" Naruto demanded, attention abruptly shifted.
"A boat. And it's heading our way."