Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
LAUREL
The private island where we’re staying has a stunning stretch of beach just beyond the glass sliding door. An orange and pink sunrise gives way to a bright morning that diffuses through the sheers and lights the open-plan living room.
I open the glass door and inhale the fresh sea air.
Scott’s sleeping in, which both surprises and pleases me.
Before this, when we were in bed together, he never slept through the night, even though he says he always sleeps better when I’m next to him.
There’s something immensely satisfying about being a source of calm comfort when it’s finally time to sleep.
I drink a glass of almond milk and read for almost an hour before I hear him moving around.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I turn and smile at him as he emerges from the bedroom. He walks over and I give him a kiss when he leans in for one. In his left hand, he’s got his tablet. The night before the wi-fi signal was too spotty for him to stay online for more than a few minutes at a time.
“My mom and Ash went with Kathleen and the Irish relatives to Ireland. Impromptu trip. So now all the Patricks are on vacation,” he says.
“Do you feel like you’re missing out?”
“Nah, but they could’ve waited to go until we got back so we could go with them.”
I chuckle and ask skeptically, “You’re ready to do back-to-back out-of-town trips?”
“Probably not.”
He confided that he’s never been on this kind of vacation.
As a kid, the Patricks apparently took a few short road trips and went to Ireland a couple times.
All the vacations were full of activities, including family parties.
He’s never been alone and off-grid with anyone, and I can tell it feels strange to him.
“Hey, what do you think about going to Venice for a few days?” he asks.
We’ve been in such a good place since the wedding that I don’t mind the question.
He’s started asking my opinion on things, which was something he rarely did at first. Trick is used to calling the shots and likes it that way.
That’s why it’s extra sweet when he tries to include me in any decision-making.
He waits for me to answer.
There’s no way I can deny him a change of scenery if he’s getting too restless for the beach, even though he’s admitted he’s sleeping better than he ever has, which I know is good for him.
“Venice seems like a beautiful, sexy place, so I’m sure it would be a great honeymoon destination, too.”
He smiles. “Would you mind the change?”
I slide my arms around his neck. “Nope. We can go or not go anywhere you want. As long as we’ll be together and I can sleep late when I want to, it’s all good.”
Trick exhales. “You’re such the right wife for me.”
That makes me chuckle. “Why? Because I let you do whatever you want?”
“That, too,” he says with a guilty smile. “But more because you’ve been so flexible and sweet no matter how often I switch things up.”
“I’m having a great time.” I give him a soft kiss and then rise. “If we’re gonna leave here, I’m gonna get in plenty of time on the beach today, okay?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll come with you.”
“Sure. Or hang out here to do battle with the wifi and make travel arrangements. Whatever makes you happy.”
“No, no.” He sets the tablet down and slides it away from him. “How about I make us some breakfast tacos, and we’ll eat them by the water?”
“Sounds great.”
I head into the bedroom and change into bikini bottoms, putting my rings on a gold chain around my neck. They hang between my breasts as I reach for the bikini top. Then I think better of it and drop the top on the dresser.
At his place, Trick often tries to persuade me to stay topless for a while after taking a shower. Whenever I do, there is nothing else that interests him. If we’re leaving this stunning and isolated beach retreat, I’m going to make the most of our last day.
I grab my wicker tote, which has the novel I’m reading, my sunglasses and a beach towel. Snagging the sunscreen on my way out of the bedroom, I glance at the pretty seashell bedspread. It’s so sweet that I almost feel guilty for all the wild sex it’s seen the past couple nights.
My new husband has been very sweet by day, but his dark desires still come out at night. Which, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m enjoying way too much. I think it might be the pregnancy hormones or something. My appetite for sex is ravenous.
I return to the living room, and when Scott sees me, he stops moving. I grab a container of fresh pineapple rings from the fridge and add them to my bag along with a fork.
“You can meet me out there, okay?”
The corners of his mouth curve up. “Laurelyn?”
“Yes?” I ask innocently.
He turns off the burners. “I’ve decided I’m not ready for breakfast yet.”
“You’re gonna have coffee though, right?” I ask, walking backward toward the glass door to the beach.
Trick reaches over and turns off the coffee machine. “No, I’m coming with you right now.” He rounds the counter and joins me.
My mouth curves into a satisfied smile. “Oh good. You can put lotion on my back. I’ll get another towel for you.”
“You do that,” he says, his dark blue eyes intent. “Is this a game to see whether you can get me to chill at the beach an extra couple days?”
“Maybe,” I tease, though that had not even occurred to me.
His gaze goes from my breasts to the baby bump and back. “Well-played, babe.”
“I’m sure we’ll have a great time in Venice, too,” I say amiably as I grab another towel. “I’ve never been. It looks stunning in pictures.”
He holds the sheer curtain aside so I can step out onto the sand. “But in Venice you won’t be topless all day,” he says, contemplating it.
“No.”
His smirk is telling.
“So what do you think?” I ask. “Leave for Venice in two days, instead of tomorrow?”
“Fuck Venice.”
“Hmm,” I say with a small smirk.
He cocks a brow, then he shakes his head. “Don’t get cocky. If I wanted to, I could make you go topless in Venice. I could rent a villa and arrange for your clothes to be unavailable.”
“You could,” I say, turning my head to look at him. “But isn’t it better if walking around topless is a little honeymoon present from your wife?”
He looks away for a second, his smile widening. “You heard me say ‘fuck Venice,’ didn’t you?”
Down by the water, I lay out the towels on the sugary sand. The fizzy sound of the surf is perfect. I squeeze sunscreen on my hands, about to put it on my chest.
“Hey, put that on my shoulders instead,” he says, moving closer. “Let’s wait a minute to put lotion on you.”
There’s an answering telltale throb between my legs at his sexy tone and clear intention to put his mouth on me. My hands rub lotion on his strong shoulders, and his head dips over me, sucking a nipple into his mouth. He pushes me back onto the towel, and a hand slides down to stroke my belly.
“Privacy has its privileges,” he murmurs as his hand moves up to cup my breast.
The warm morning sunshine and the soft sand fade into the background as what he’s doing to my body becomes the main focus.
It only takes a moment for him to rid himself of his shorts. Then he pins my hands above my head as he makes love to me. The things he whispers to me are as filthy as ever. Marriage has changed some things, but not this.
When I’ve come twice and he’s finished, he lies on his side and watches me put waterproof sunscreen on my naked curves.
“What a mistake I made,” he says.
“How’s that?” I whisper, rubbing a little sunblock on his nose and cheeks.
“I should’ve married you a long time ago. Right out of high school really.”
That makes me chuckle. “We weren’t ready.”
“I’m not sure about that.” He drops onto his back and closes his eyes. “Now that I’ve really got you, I realize you’re what’s been missing from my life.”
That line makes me smile, but also surprises me because it’s so unabashedly sweet. My fingers brush his hair back from his temple to give my lips room to kiss him there.
“Thanks. I’ll take one here, too,” he says, touching his mouth.
I lean over him and give him a lingering kiss, one where our tongues tangle together and taste each other.
Finally, I lie back and close my eyes.
“Hey, if I buy you an island for your birthday, will you promise to go topless every day when we visit it?”
I laugh. “There you go getting carried away again. Middle class kids from Coynston aren’t supposed to own private islands, are they? That seems like a Park Avenue New York kind of thing.”
“Middle class was a long time ago. I’m filthy rich now, and I’ll buy you an island if I want,” he says.
“You should save your money for the kids.”
“To hell with that. I’m not raising obnoxious trust fund kids. Our kids need jobs right from the jump. I figure we’ll put them to work on some chores when they’re about three or four. Instill a good work ethic.”
I exhale a rueful chuckle. “Chores at three years old? You think that’s a reasonable expectation?”
“All right, four or five.”
The laughter bubbles up in me and spills out. “That, my love, is why you don’t know how to be on vacation.”
“True enough.” He licks his lips and shields his eyes from the sun with a forearm. “Don’t you want our kids to be like us? We’re both hard workers.”
“One of us is a hard worker. That would be me. The other is a workaholic. You.”
“Beats being broke.”
There’s a languid pause. I love being here with him like this.
“So what about it, Laurelyn? If you had a beach resort island, topless all day? Give me your word on that.”
“I don’t think you’ve thought this through. Aren’t we still going to be married when we’re sixty? And seventy? You think you’ll want me topless then?”
“Yeah, I’m sure of it,” he says without a moment’s hesitation.
That makes us both laugh.
His hand finds mine on the sand, and he laces our fingers together.
“Tell me you love me,” he says. “Whisper it in my ear.”
“I love you.”
“Shh,” he says, exhaling a sleepy sigh. “You were supposed to whisper.”
“Why’s that?”
The corners of his mouth quirk. “I’m happy.
Too happy.” He shakes his head. “It’s got me thinking…
I got you on a technicality because I accidentally got you pregnant.
Maybe it’s not a good idea to draw too much attention to this.
Might be tempting fate.” He draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding, then he exhales.
“Let’s keep our happiness on the down-low, babe. Just in case.”
“Oh, God,” I say, laughing. “In case of what? Who are you, my great grandma Reilly who always swore the fairies were stealing her keys? How old-school Irish are you right now?”
He shrugs, eyes still closed. When he speaks, there’s a touch of an Irish brogue infused. “Did you investigate? Maybe there was an infestation of the wee folk. You don’t know.”
Still laughing, I sit up, marveling at his ability to sound so serious when he’s teasing. “I’m going for a swim. Don’t worry, I’ll watch out for mermaids.”
Scott’s fingers tighten around my wrist and pull me back down. “No, stay here with me. We’ll go swimming together when I get my second wind. No bride as beautiful as you goes anywhere alone.”
Rolling my eyes, I curl up against him, but I don’t actually mind the delay. We can afford to be lazy. The ocean will still be here in an hour and so will we.