Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“Because I’ll be kicking you out of your own bed tonight. That seems so much worse than being banished from a random hotel bed to me.”
“You think you’re kicking me out of my own bed?” The thoughts that flash behind my eyes aren’t exactly PG. Just a husk of a man, discarded after she’s had her wicked way with me.
A man can hope. And this man hopes for a lot of things.
“The good news is you have a lot of other beds to choose from.”
“How do you mean?” Is she needling me? Fucking Oliver.
“Well, you do own the place,” she says, glancing behind us.
“But I only have one bed of my own.”
“Pity.”
“That didn’t sound pitying.” I begin to swing her hand, when she slows and turns to me with a small but wicked grin.
“Oh. I do pity you, and I feel bad now, because I’ve just realized you can’t really sleep in another room. Not unless you want to run the risk of ruining Evie and Oliver’s actual honeymoon.”
“And that would happen how?”
“You don’t want to be responsible for a rumor suggesting their marriage is already in trouble, do you?” She cups a thoughtful hand to her chin. “Though I suppose you could get Sarai to dress up as housekeeping and she could roll you out in one of those industrial laundry hampers.”
“I see you’ve put some thought into this.”
Her dark eyes wide, she gives a pleased nod.
“But if we’re gonna sneak anyone out, why not you?” My eyes slide over her form. “You’d fit into a hamper much easier than I would.”
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” she says, cocking her hip and pressing her fist to it.
“I figure I’d better do it now while I’m still cute. In another few years I’ll just be labeled a lecherous old goat.”
Her laughter echoes inside me. “Oh, I think you’ll get away with it for a few more years yet.”
“You mean I might grow into my handsomeness?”
“No, your big head. Anyway, I’m not being smuggled out in a laundry hamper, because I’m far too conscientious to risk my client’s future happiness. If you say I can’t sleep in the bed, then I’ll just woman up and sleep on the sofa.” She gives a flick of one shoulder.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t sleep in the bed. You can. With me.”
“Sofa it is, then,” she adds with a martyrish sniff.
“Want to step this relationship up a notch?”
“Are your ears pinned on? I’m not sleeping with you!”
“I meant we could have an iconic frolic in the waves,” I say. “Fool around in the surf for the benefit of our potential audience, kind of From Here to Eternity style.”
Her mouth flattens, but her eyes dance.
“Not for the media, the ’Gram, or the grope,” she retorts, watching as I pull the ridiculous pink hat from my head. “What are you doing?” Suddenly, she’s disconcerted, her attention moving to the ocean and the boats on the horizon.
“Going for a dip.” I drop the hat and reach back to the neck of my T-shirt.
“But . . . but the journalists might see.”
“Oliver got a haircut, remember?” I rub my palm over the bristles. “And Evie’s hair goes really dark when it’s wet,” I say, whipping the straw monstrosity from her head.
“Hey!” She makes a grab for it. Too late, as I throw it into the air and it’s carried from her reach by a sudden breeze.
“Last one in gets the couch!” Sand fills the spaces between my spread toes as I pivot.
“What? No!” she yells. “Fin DeWitt, you are a cheating shithead!”
Chapter 12
Mila
I decide not to chase Fin for the sake of my dignity. Same goes for my hat, and I drop down to the sand and fold my legs to my chest.
He can have the bed. It doesn’t matter where I sleep. I probably won’t get a wink anyway. Not when he’s sleeping just one wall away.
I watch the water splash and glisten as he jogs out, then wades deeper and deeper before diving under the surface with the grace of a selkie.
Mila, mate. You may as well face facts: you are going to fuck him.
“No. No, I’m not,” I mutter, arguing with the voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Ronny’s again.
I’m not sure if it’s better or worse that I don’t remember the first time, though it does seem telling how I almost orgasmed when he placed his hand on my thigh. A slight exaggeration, but it did feel nice. It made me all fluttery. I hate to admit it, but it was as though my body recognized his touch.
I’m so relieved he agreed to keep this whole thing between us, though I felt a twinge of guilt when he said his friends would blame him if they got wind of things. And my heart gave a little pinch when he said I could blame him too.