Chapter 13
Rowan
March - Bahamas
The Bahamas resort for Andi’s wedding is, undoubtedly, the nicest I’ve ever set foot in.
It’s still no match for Italy in May with Maggie in my arms, but still a really nice resort.
I don’t take very many vacations, choosing to visit my friends and family in Charleston instead when I have the time, and exploring cities with Maggie when we’re traveling for tournaments.
But an actual, proper vacation? I take in all the palm trees and the fancy drinks, smiling and nodding at the people milling around the beach in their floral dresses and shirts.
My plain green polo shirt seems boring in comparison and I make a mental note to check out the store in the lobby and upgrade my wardrobe.
Maggie walks ahead of me and takes a seat at the bar, looking over her shoulder at me in an invitation to join her.
Her tanned skin is highlighted even more so by the cream colored dress she’s wearing, one that stops at the middle of her thigh.
I swallow hard and try not to think about how she would look in a wedding dress.
I take in the carefree look on her face, her long blonde hair falling down her back and I smile, knowing I won’t be able to hold back long until I’m begging to take her to the room we’re sharing so I can put my mouth all over her.
In one swift move, I take the sunglasses off my face and prop them atop my head, leaning my forearms on the bar and whispering in her ear, “That dress looks gorgeous on you, but it would look even better on the bedroom floor.”
Her laugh is bright and pure sunshine as she shakes her head at me. “Really? You think pick-up lines work on me?”
“Ouch. Do I need to try harder? I can do this all night,” I say and give her a wink.
“We need to amend the agreement and add ‘No pick up lines’ to the list.” She rolls her eyes but I can see my charm is winning her over as she bites her lower lip and drags her eyes all over my body. “I know something else you could be doing all night though.” She smirks, leaning in.
“What can I get you two?” the bartender asks, ruining the moment. Maggie visibly sits back, her smirk dropping down into a polite smile. Here we go again, pretending like there’s nothing going on between us when we’re in public.
“Margaritas. Two, please,” she says and the guy rushes over to make them.
I sigh, knowing our flirty banter has come to an end.
Maggie is way too adamant about our rules, especially those still left on our list. I sneak in some light PDA every now and then, but this setting is too public for me to get away with it.
My mood darkens, even though the margarita is delicious, and I listen to Maggie ramble about how she can’t believe her sister is getting married and having a baby.
“I mean, don’t you think we’re a bit young still?”
“Mags, we’re in our early thirties. It’s perfectly normal for people to want to settle down,” I say, chest tightening. The truth is, the ring I got for is metaphorically burning a hole through my pocket, even though it’s physically back in Palm Beach, still hidden amongst my cleaning supplies.
I need her to see the potential of this, and most of all I need her to admit her feelings for me. But something is still holding her back and I’ve always been too afraid to push. But maybe I’m at the end of the rope—maybe this is my last chance to make her mine. Permanently.
“Do you know that nearly 50 percent of marriages end in divorce? And second marriages are even closer to 70 percent. I mean, just look at my mom and—”
“Okay, but Andi is not your mom. And neither are you,” I say quietly, my hope plummeting. Is that really what she thinks about marriage? That they all end in divorce?
“You don’t know that,” she says under her breath, so softly I almost don’t hear her.
“Are you really against marriage? Having a family, settling down?” I ask, trying to push down the sinking feeling in my stomach.
Maggie blinks her blue eyes at me in surprise. “Where is this coming from?” she asks slowly, as if I’m a spooked animal.
“I think I want that,” I mumble, taking a sip of my drink.
“Okay. I’m sure someday you’ll—”
“No, Mags. I want it sooner than someday. I’ve been so caught up in my career that I’ve lost track of the other things that matter to me.
I want a family. I want more than a few weeks a year to visit my mom.
I just—” I say, my bottom lip wobbling. I implore her to read between the lines with a look alone. “I want more,” I finally whisper.
Maggie swallows, her eyes wide and staring at me. Shit, this was not a good way to go about having this conversation. By the way her shoulders lift to her ears and her eyes look around the bar, like she’s ready to bolt—it’s clear that I’m scaring her away.
“Sorry, I think the margarita is getting to my head,” I try to laugh it off.
“Ro, I—” she says but doesn’t get to finish her thought as the bride, groom, and their friends join us.
The next thing I know, we’re four shots in and the sky is dark, the twinkling lights the only thing illuminating our path back to our shared room. Maggie sways a little on her feet and my arm automatically goes around her shoulder to steady her.
I expect her to push me away since we’re still technically in public, but instead, she leans further into me.
As I fumble with my keys, her mouth finds a sensitive spot on my neck and leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses.
My focus is jumbled but I eventually fit the key inside and turn the lock to open the door.
The keychain rattles against the side table as I throw it, freeing up my hands to grab Maggie.
I kick the door shut with my leg and spin us around.
With her back to the door and my mouth inches from hers, I cage her in, resting my sweaty forearms above her head.
The movement brings our chests flush together.
Maggie moans, pulling me closer by my collar.
I know we should probably have a serious conversation about where this is all going, but the way her chest heaves and the tops of her breasts poke out of that tight white dress is clouding all judgment. I run my finger over the seam of the dress but they refuse to spill out, taunting me.
Maggie smirks and closes the final distance between our lips.
She tastes sweet, like pineapple with a hint of margarita and I let my worries go for now, matching her enthusiasm.
My hands drop to her thighs and I drag them up and down on her silky skin, inching higher and higher under her dress until I find her lacy underwear.
My thoughts are spiraling, stuck between our unfinished conversation from earlier and scrambled by the drinks we’ve both consumed tonight.
The right choice would be to go to sleep, forget this night happened.
And yet, I can’t deny her anything. If all she wants is to put the conversation on pause and have sex, then that’s what we’ll do for now.
I groan in her mouth and her tongue mingles with mine, soothing me, telling me that everything will be just fine. Her fists grip my collar so tight that I think she might tear this damn polo off me. I think I want her to.
My knuckles brush over her barely covered pussy and come away damp. My grin turns wicked as I kiss the side of her neck, continuing to run my knuckles over the flimsy material, but not touching her where she wants me most. “Always so wet for me, Mags.”
Her moan turns into a low whimper and she fists my hair just as I find the spot behind her ear that makes her crazy with want.
I love how well we know each other and how I could make her come on the spot with just my fingers.
I love how she feels in my arms and how she’s the best part of my day. I love her.
Maggie finds my mouth again, nibbling and tugging at my bottom lip, one of her hands trailing down to my cock and palming me through my khaki shorts. She pulls at my collar again with one hand and one of the buttons pops off. It clatters to the floor and we burst into laughter.
Her blue eyes turn a darker shade and she walks me backward to the bed, pushing me down. “How much do you care about this polo?” she asks, voice sultry and sexy as hell as she climbs over me.
“I was thinking I could get one of those floral shirts from the hotel lobby,” I say with a smile. She plays with the collar of my shirt, running it between her thumbs.
“Hmm, good,” she mumbles, curling her fingers through the material and pulling hard.
At first, nothing happens. She pulls harder once, twice, straddling me and lifting me off the mattress an inch.
I laugh at our ridiculous situation, resting my arms behind my head but Maggie’s got her determined expression on.
Her eyebrows are furrowed and her pink lips are pursed and when she pulls again with all her strength, my shirt tears open to my sternum.
She grins wickedly and rips it the rest of the way, exposing my chest and torso.
Holy shit, why was that so hot? Maggie’s blunt fingernails rake over my abs and my cock twitches at the sight of her above me, using me for her pleasure.
She must feel me twitch because she gives me one tortuous grind before lowering herself to kiss me again, from my mouth, down my jaw and chest, all the way down my happy trail.
I groan once more and fist the sheets as she places a kiss to my cock through the material of my pants.
Her deft fingers waste no time undoing the button and the zipper, curling inside the waistband of my pants and underwear, and pulling them both down.
I sit up to take whatever is left of my polo off me and Maggie smirks down at me with pride.