Chapter 24
DEX
We have dinner on the terrace. The infinity pool is empty and guests are dining out by the pool, while some, like us, are dining on their terraces, enjoying the sunset.
The staff are wonderful; always there, always watching and at the ready, tending to our every need. The heady infusion of salt and jasmine fills the air, and I feel more relaxed than I have all day. It was harder forcing myself to stay inside to work, knowing that Daniela was taking it easy.
In trying not to think too much about her, I didn’t really get much work done. Now Daniela sits across from me. Her Kindle rests beside her plate, and she appears to be transfixed, her attention on the screen as she scrolls through a book.
I watch her, irritation simmering low in my gut. “That’s rude,” I say finally.
She lifts her head lazily, lips curving. “But darling , you worked all through the day, and I didn’t want to disturb you.” Her voice is sweet as honey.
“You can disturb me now. We’re having dinner. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Her smile widens. She leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “Because of our deal.”
I ground my teeth. I was hoping that after I saved her from that over-muscled action man, when she kissed me and I kissed her back, things would be different between us.
I thought we’d reached a good place. Talking, laughing, pretending, and ... kissing. I dare not hope for more, even though I can’t stop thinking about her. My cock stands to attention whenever my wife is around.
We finish the meal in silence and neither of us want dessert. I’m relieved that we can return to the villa and I’ll find a way to keep myself busy, but Daniela orders a lemon tea, which makes me irritated because now, I have to be civil and wait with her.
She continues reading, while I sit there, watching and wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. Wondering how I’ll navigate the waters back home, when we have to live together.
“I’ve had a long day. Swimming in the sea, enjoying the infinity pool…” she says, closing her eyes momentarily. She places her palm at the back of her neck and massages. “I think I’ll get a massage tomorrow. I’m so tense all over.”
I watch, knowing how easily I could relieve that tension for her. My eyes fall to her halter-neck black and green dress and her bare shoulders that are golden under the terrace lights.
She’s fucking torturing me.
It gets worse when her fingers trail absentmindedly across her collarbone, drawing my attention to her ring and the diamonds catching the light, and to her soft golden skin.
I watch mesmerized and she catches me staring when she opens her eyes. We stare in silence for a few seconds, before she abruptly gets up. “Good night.” She pushes back her chair. Her lemon tea is barely touched. I don’t intend to sit here alone, so I follow her back to the villa.
No sooner do we step inside then Daniela heads toward the main bedroom. Now we’re presented with another problem. There’s only one master bedroom, with a huge bed.
Although there’s also a guest room.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
She pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “To sleep in my bed.”
Her bed.
I arch a brow. “Ah. There’s another room, and there’s also the sofa.”
She turns around fully and faces me. Her luscious lips curve into a smile while I try to fight the thought that this woman is so tempting.
“Dexter, darling , you can sleep wherever you want.” She turns away but I grab her wrist and hear it, the soft gasp, the way her breath hitches in her throat. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers. Soft and velvety. The type of skin I want naked against me as I lie in bed. I keep my grip, for a beat too long, feeling the heat of her pulse beneath my fingertips.
“You’re being unusually cold towards me,” I murmur. “I thought we would be closer, given that I rescued you earlier.”
That was my dick talking just now. I don’t know why I said that. Daniela doesn’t flinch, nor does she pull away. She stares at me as if she’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking.
I want so badly to kiss her. Maybe just a peck on the cheek, maybe something more. Something like the melting, scorching fuck-me kiss we shared earlier. The type of kiss that moves onto something more.
“Goodnight, Dexter. Sleep wherever you want. This is your honeymoon as well.” She disappears towards the bedroom, no doubt to read on her fucking Kindle.
I let her go and head over to the bar where I pour myself a drink, and try to figure out how I’ll get through this night.
***
Daniela is cool towards me the next morning, as we’re having breakfast on the terrace.
A few guests mill about in the infinity pool, and beyond that, a few of them are swimming in the shimmering, turquoise blue ocean.
The day is bright, the sun bearable, with the threat of getting stronger. “Sleep well?” Daniela asks, a cold edge to her voice.
I sip my coffee before answering, because I quite like the idea that she might be pissed. That she might have wanted me beside her in bed last night. That she might have missed me.
I wanted to be there with her, but for the sake of my sanity, I slept alone. Butt naked, restless as hell, tossing and turning like a fish on a hook, knowing that she lay in the next room. “Like a baby. You?”
“Out like a light.” She shrugs, then stirs her coffee. “There could’ve been fireworks outside, and I wouldn’t have heard.”
I refill our glasses of fresh-squeezed juice. The day has barely started and already I feel the oppressive weight of our alliance.
“I have more work to do,” I announce, not because I want to work, hell, I’d rather do anything else but that, but because I need to. My father is still in S?o Paulo, undoubtedly sniffing around my father-in-law’s business, and I need to stay ahead of him.
Daniela lifts her glass, and eyes me casually. “I expect nothing less from you, Dexter. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean our lives have to change.” She says the words easily, but a stupid part of me wonders if she means them. Or if she also wonders if things could be different between us.
“Good to know,” I say, my voice even.
She sets her juice down and glances at me, her gaze deceptively casual. “We’ll have separate bedrooms back in New York, won’t we?”
That sounds like a plea. I lean back in my chair. “For sure. There’s no way we could…” I gesture between us. “This is … not that.”
Her lips press together, and she looks uneasy. “You don’t have to spell it out every time. I know our agreement. What this is and what it isn’t. I have no illusions.”
When she leans back, the sunlight catches the subtle bursts of gold in her green eyes. Today, she’s not in some sheer cover-up that lets me see things I shouldn’t. Instead, her outfit is soft, patterned and opaque. Still, the way it hangs loosely over her skin, makes my imagination go haywire.
I can’t seem to get a break. Will our entire year be like this? If so, I’m going to be a wreck. I push my chair back and set my napkin down. “I should get to work.”
She looks at me as if she’s about to say something and I wait expectantly.
“Have a good day at work, darling.” It’s mock exaggeration. A casual turn of phrase from a doting wife. She’s playing a role. That’s all.
“Don’t strain yourself too much on the recliner,” I quip.
I step into the cool interior of the villa’s study. The ceiling fans hum lazily above me, circulating the crisp air. The French doors open to a perfect view of the terrace.
And her.
Daniela tugs off the cover-up, letting it slip from her shoulders like silk, revealing a bikini that’s just … fucking illegal. Then she sits beneath an oversized umbrella, leisurely slathering sunscreen over her smooth skin before picking up a book.
Just like that I imagine my hands slipping and sliding over her body. My hands smoothing that lotion over her body. Spreading it out, rubbing it gently. Feeling her under my fingers, touching her, and … having an effect on her. As expected, my cock jumps to life, and I drop my head in my hands.
Wrong thought. Wrong visual.
What the hell am I doing? If this were real, we’d be in bed right now, fucking like feral animals, tearing into each other the way I know we could. I exhale sharply and pull my laptop closer. I need to focus. I need to do something.
Like cold water over my thoughts, I look through my diary and discover, with great dismay, that I have a call scheduled with my father. Knowing him, he’s probably poking his nose where it doesn’t belong.
The day passes. It’s too hot, and I don’t have lunch, but cold pressed juices. Then I have a quick call with the old man. The conversation is businesslike and formal, with him asking about some deal I inked last month. He doesn’t even ask how things are, how Daniela is. I don’t know why I thought he might.
I stop working late in the afternoon, and by the time I’ve showered and gotten changed and headed back outside, Daniela is stretched out on a four-poster cabana on the sand, near the sea. Waves lap gently along the shore. I can’t take my eyes off my wife.
She’s lying on her stomach, face down, resting on her hands. Her back bare and her skin glowing as a masseur works along her body. Wearing only her bikini bottoms, she looks too comfortable. Too at ease in this temporary paradise.
Too damn tempting.
I should walk away, but I can’t. The sand shifts under my feet as I stare down at her. “Hey, sweetheart.” My shadow looms over her and she lifts her head slightly, shielding her eyes with her hand.
I suppress a groan.
“Hey, darling .” Her eyes twinkle with amusement and I wonder if she’s having a laugh at my expense. “Hard day at work?”
I clench my jaw. Again. She seems unbothered, like this isn’t affecting her, but me? I had to jerk off before I came out just now, because after the call with my father, and the subsequent emails and pesky matters I had to deal with after, I couldn’t focus.
Couldn’t get the image of Daniela in her bikini out of my head. And now, my bottled-up frustration ratchets even higher as the man’s hands knead Daniela’s bare back.
I don’t like another man’s hands on my wife. In my head, it’s my hands that bracket her back and skim the length of her spine. My hands that knead, and slide over her bikini bottoms and move between the apex of her thighs ...
“Is that too hard, ma’am?” the masseur asks.
“No, no,” Daniela murmurs. “You could go harder still.” She lifts her face and her gaze drops to my crotch.
Jesus. My cock stiffens as she blinks.
“Would you like a massage, darling? Something to ease out the knots of tension.”
I shift, turn to the side, trying to hide the boner that’s tenting my pants. It infuriates me, how easy this is for her. How she doesn’t feel anything. How she has no clue of the effect she’s having on me. I should tell her to cover up. I should tell her she’s taking this too far. Instead, I say, “No.”
Then my mind blanks because I can’t think of anything else to say. My brain is processing images, not words, and the image I have is of Daniela sitting up, topless. Daring me to make a move.
She laughs. “Are you okay, darling? You’re not suffering from sunstroke, are you?”
“Overwork, if anything,” I manage to say, wondering how I’ve gone from being in control of my thoughts and feelings, to this. A weak man who can’t take his eyes off this woman, my gaze inching over her body. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you weren’t feeling lonely.”
Daniela hums in response, then lifts her shoulders as if she’s stretching them out. Then, to my utter delight and shock, she starts to push up on her elbows. If she lifts any higher, I’ll see everything.
“Don’t,” I caution, my erection fighting to escape my ever-tightening pants.
She halts, blinking up at me. Then, slowly, she moves up a fraction. Barely an inch. Not enough to reveal anything. But enough to remind me of the threat of what could be.
“I’ll leave you in peace,” I manage to say, before turning around to find mine.