Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“I'm glad you remembered the melatonin gummies,” I say after we've settled in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few minutes. “I don't think I've ever slept that great on a plane before, and while I can feel the lag a little bit, it's definitely not as much as it could be.”
“Right?” she asks after taking another sip of water. “It's a total game changer. That and altering your clock the minute you get on the plane. Trust me, I don't expect I'll ever get to come back here, so I want to make the most out of every single day. Jet lag isn’t an option.”
I smile at her. “You look like you're feeling pretty refreshed,” I say, unable to not admire how damn gorgeous she is.
She wears a simple white tank top and a flowy turquoise skirt with sandals. The perfect beach attire, she’d said when she boarded the plane yesterday. And she was right, she looked delectable, her full lips shaping an easy smile now.
“I feel pretty good,” she says. “And I'm glad you do too. That means we get to go straight to the fun.”
My chest loosens another fraction, hope spreading wider and soothing my tense muscles. I know we need to talk about what happened last night, but I want to do it on her terms. I want a clear if not silent signal that that door is open to speak about it, and until then, I'm fine living in denial land.
Our orders are delivered, and we dig into some of the best seafood I've ever tasted. Monroe agrees, damn near moaning after every bite of fish she takes, the sounds doing unspeakable things to the desire I can barely hold down now that I've gotten a taste of her. We talk small talk, history of the island and the resort in between bites, and when we're finished, the server comes to get our plates.
“Do you think your wife wants dessert?” The server smiles down at me with the empty plates in his hand.
“She does,” Monroe says before I can correct the server. “As long as that's all right with you, my darling husband?” Her smile is wide and breathtaking, and I can't deny how right those fictitious titles feel sliding over me.
“Of course, honey,” I say, playing into the bit. “Only the best for my wife,” I say to the server, who nods and gives us promises of a dessert menu.
“What are you in the mood for, Mrs. Ritchford?” I ask as she looks over the menu.
“Oh, you know me,” she says. “I'm always in the mood for something fruity. But I can't make up my mind between these two,” she continues, pointing to two selections on the menu.
“Get both,” I say with a shrug.
“Really?”
I nod, smiling at her. “Definitely.”
She smiles back, ordering the two desserts. I add my preference and the server hurries off to put in the order.
“I think I like being Mrs. Ritchford,” she says in a singsong voice. “Does that title mean I get whatever I want?”
I cock an eyebrow at her, adrenaline storming my veins at the game we're playing. “Since when have you ever needed my last name for me to give you what you want?”
Her eyebrows raise, the teasing smile shifting to something more serious, and suddenly, I'm not sure if we're playing a game anymore. I can almost feel the words building in my throat, ready to ask her about last night, when the server brings back our desserts, breaking the tense bubble we're in.
Dessert is met with more moans of delight, and we share, slipping further into vacation mode as we get the check and then head toward our bungalow.
“Wait,” I say with the key in my hand. “Shouldn’t I carry my wife over the threshold?” I ask as we linger outside the door.
“Oh, you most certainly should,” she says, extending her arms.
We’re both laughing, finally feeling somewhat back to normal as I unlock the door and swing it open before scooping her into my arms. I cradle her to my chest, stepping over the threshold and kicking the door closed behind us.
“Wow,” she says, her arms looped around my neck, but her eyes focused on the bungalow. “This is stunning.”
She gazes at the open floorplan with smooth wooden floors, light lush furniture, and doors that allow the elements inside. The exterior, which we get a tease of from where we stand in the living room, shows off the wraparound deck and infinity pool that stretches right into the ocean the bungalow is perched atop.
“The most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, my eyes on her as she drinks in the space.
She turns her head, visibly swallowing as she looks at me, our faces only a breath away from the way I’m still holding her. Her eyes flutter from my lips to my eyes and back again, and every muscle in my body clenches with need.