Chapter 20

He laughed harder this time. “Don’t worry. I’m not taking you there.”

“I—I didn’t even know these places existed!”

He grinned. “You’re adorable.”

She kept staring outside, then blinked rapidly. “Wait… are those men?”

“Yes.”

“But… they look…”

She squinted. Her brows furrowed.

“Their… um…”

Nash raised a brow. “Their what?”

“Their dicks,” she whispered, blushing furiously. “They look so small. Are you sure they’re men?”

Nash nearly swerved off the road.

He clutched the wheel, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “Oh my—Liana!”

“I mean,” she mumbled, covering her face. “I’ve only seen yours… and compared to that… those just look…”

“Like peanuts?” Nash choked out between laughter.

“I didn’t say that!”

“You thought it!”

Liana laughed too, finally letting her head drop against the seat.

It was the kind of laughter that shook her chest, that made her stomach ache. The kind of laughter she hadn’t felt in years.

She looked at Nash, still laughing with tears in his eyes, and her heart swelled. She had never seen him like that. Unburdened. Free.

It was beautiful.

⸻

The car turned off the main road a few minutes later.

Through a private gate. Down a shaded path lined with trees. The sound of the sea grew louder.

And then — it opened.

A private beach.

Vast. Empty. Untouched.

The sand stretched for miles. The waves rolled in calmly. And there was no one in sight.

Just them.

Nash parked the car and turned to her.

“You ready?”

Liana smiled. “For what?”

“To be mine. Out here. Where no one can hear you scream.”

Her breath caught.

She was very ready.

The car door creaked softly as Liana stepped out, the thick tires crunching over white sand beneath her bare feet. The air hit her like a whisper from the past—salty, wild, and filled with the endless echo of crashing waves. The sea breeze wrapped around her body like silk, tousling her long hair, brushing across her face, tugging at the thin fabric of her blouse.

She closed her eyes.

It had been years since she’d heard the sea.

Not through a screen. Not from a distance. But like this—loud, alive, unfiltered. Its scent washed through her lungs, and for the first time in so long, she didn’t feel like she was drowning in silence. She felt the sun kiss her skin, the wind teasing the edge of her blouse, and the ocean’s roar thundering inside her chest like a long-forgotten lullaby.

And she laughed.

It started softly, like a ripple in still water. But it grew—rising from the very center of her being, unfiltered, untamed. She tilted her head back, arms stretched wide like she was embracing the entire world.

Nash had never seen her like this.

Leaning against the hood of the car, a cold can of beer in his hand, he just watched. Quietly. Intently. His eyes tracked every little movement — the way the sunlight danced on her skin, the way her laughter poured out of her like music. She looked wild. Free.

And utterly breathtaking.

There was something different about Liana today. She wasn’t the girl who was always calculating her words, always shrinking into the corner. She wasn’t the girl who flinched at every sharp tone, or hesitated to smile like she needed permission.

She was just… herself.

Nash took a sip from the can but couldn’t look away.

This woman—this fragile, stubborn, beautiful storm of a woman—was pulling him in deeper every day.

Liana twirled barefoot across the sand, laughing into the wind like she was exhaling years of pain.

Years…

Two years of suffocating pain in that cold mansion. Two years of being treated like property. Of silent dinners, harsh glares, and bruises she wasn’t allowed to talk about. Her in-laws had chained her spirit so tight she’d nearly forgotten what joy felt like.

But here she was.

Alive.

And somehow, Nash was part of this freedom.

She turned to look at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Nash?”

He raised his brow, taking another sip. “Yeah?”

“Can I… go in?” She gestured toward the sea, biting her lip in excitement.

He blinked at her. “You wanna swim?”

She nodded. “It’s been so long. I just want to feel the water again.”

There was something so innocent in her tone. So childlike.

He smirked. “You don’t need my permission, Liana.”

“But I want it,” she whispered, more serious now. “From you.”

His smirk softened.

“Go ahead,” he said, lowering the can and pointing toward the waves. “But don’t go too far. The tides can get strong.”

Liana’s smile bloomed like spring.

She kicked off her pants, stripped down to her blouse and panties—too lost in her joy to care about modesty—and ran.

Her laughter trailed behind her like music on the wind.

Nash watched, still leaning against the car. His eyes followed her, the way her legs moved, the wet fabric clinging to her body as she splashed into the surf. He took another slow sip.

God, she was beautiful.

The waves kissed her thighs, then her hips. She giggled, turning to look at him over her shoulder, water swirling around her.

But then—

A wave hit.

Bigger than before.

She disappeared.

Nash didn’t react at first. He’d seen her duck under the water before.

But seconds passed.

Then another wave rolled in. And this time—he saw her hand break the surface, flailing.

His beer dropped from his hand.

“Liana?”

Her head bobbed up again. She was struggling. Her hands slapping the water, her face twisted in panic. Her mouth opened—but no sound reached him over the roar of the sea.

And then she went under again.

Nash was already moving.

He ran, tearing off his shirt mid-sprint. The sand burned under his feet, but he didn’t care. The waves surged forward as if trying to claim her again. The cold hit him like a slap when he dove in, cutting through the tide like a blade.

He spotted her—arms limp, hair swirling like seaweed around her.

“Liana!”

He reached her in seconds, grabbed her waist, and pulled her up. Her body was dead weight. She didn’t respond. Her lips were pale. Eyes shut.

“No. No—Liana, stay with me!”

He dragged her through the water, arms straining, the shore feeling miles away. Every step burned through his muscles, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

When they reached the sand, he laid her down and collapsed to his knees beside her.

Her chest wasn’t moving.

“Shit—”

He tilted her head, pinched her nose, and gave her breath.

Once. Twice.

Then chest compressions. His hands moved hard and fast.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t do this to me.”

Nothing.

“Breathe—Liana, goddammit, breathe!”

Then—she coughed.

Salt water spewed from her lips. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the sun.

And she saw him.

Nash—panting, soaked, hovering over her with fear etched across every line of his face.

Her hand moved—slowly, shakily—and touched his cheek.

Her voice was hoarse. Fragile.

“You saved me… again.”

Nash closed his eyes.

And let out a breath like the whole world had been lifted from his shoulders.

⸻

They sat on the sand for a long time.

Liana leaned against his chest, wrapped in a towel from the car. Her hair was damp, her body trembling, but she was alive. And Nash didn’t stop holding her. Not for a second.

He stared out at the waves as if they were a monster he’d barely defeated.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t swim,” he said quietly.

“I forgot,” she whispered. “I got so excited… I forgot.”

He looked down at her. “You could’ve died.”

“I know.”

He shook his head. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared the hell out of me.”

She smiled, soft and tired. “But you were there.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is to me,” she said, touching his chest. “Because I know now. No matter how deep I go, you’ll dive in after me.”

Nash didn’t respond right away.

He just held her tighter.

The sea still crashed behind them, relentless and beautiful. But the fear was gone now—washed away like everything else between them.