Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
My gaze settles on the women in the pool. The couple. They surface for air and dive right back into each other, kissing and touching like no one is watching, or maybe like everyone is watching.
Somehow, both things are true. Everyone is stealing glances, and no one is staring.
If they can do it…
I wrap my fingers around Jackson's wrist and bring his hand to my chest.
His lips find my neck. He kisses me softly as he cups my breasts. One hand. Then the other.
He draws a line of kisses down my neck, then he looks around the space, checking for attention.
There's more now. Those guys in the corner are no longer hiding their interest. They're watching with wide eyes and whispers. But the guy checking tickets by the gate doesn't seem to care about our public display.
That's what it is.
A display.
Like I'm his toy. Or maybe like he's mine. I'm not sure anymore. And I don't want to think about it anymore. I want to dive in and enjoy.
I turn my neck enough to kiss him. My lips find his lips. My tongue dances with his. And all the while, he draws perfect circles around my nipples.
He teases me for ages. Forever. Until I'm too tired to kiss anymore, and I collapse in his arms, and he brings his lips to my neck, and he teases me again and again.
By the time I sit up, I'm wound so tight, I'm sure I'm going to burst. To come from the next gust of air. That's all the friction I need.
I want to take him here. And now. Or drag him to a hotel room. But I don't. I practice my patience. I play his game.
I stand up, shoot him a daring smile, and I dive into the pool.
He watches me swim for a minute, then he dives in with me, and we follow the footsteps of the other couple. We swim and kiss and touch until we're too tired to swim anymore. Until my entire body is humming with a horrible, beautiful mix of pleasure and need and anticipation.
I want to feel this forever. And I need to come immediately.
I don't dress fully. I pull on my shorts and slip his shirt over my bare torso and do only one button.
He dons his shorts.
We walk through the hotel to the car. And then I get inside, and I undo the button, and I'm on display for him again.
It's too hot to have sex here. But still, when he turns on the car, I undo the button of my shorts, and I do away with my swim bottoms.
He looks over with an approving smile. "Put your shirt over your lap."
I place my tank top over my pelvis. It's small, but it covers the necessary areas.
"And fuck yourself."
"While we drive?"
He nods yes.
I think I must be going out of my mind. Because I do. I close my eyes, I slip my hand between my legs, and I stroke myself to orgasm.
It only takes a few flicks of my fingers, and I'm there, pulsing against my hand, groaning his name, desperate to unleash hours of anticipation.
It feels good, but it's not enough. I need more. I need him.
I reach for him reflexively. My hand on his thigh. Then higher. Right over the bulge in his shorts.
He shakes his head. "I want to wait."
"You want to wait?" My eyes stay on his cock. Sure, the fabric is in the way, but I can see the outline. I can feel him. "With this situation?"
He nods yes.
"I can't wait until tonight."
"I don't remember suggesting that." He shoots me a wicked smile. "Let's go back to the hotel room."
Perfect. I nod and slip into my clothes awkwardly. The drive passes in a blink. The parking, the walk through the hotel, the elevators.
But we're not about to sail into a sea of marital bliss.
Because our families are, in fact, waiting outside our door, ready for our wedding party.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Daphne
Laurel insists on thirty minutes with me to make me over so I look like a bride. Or, as she says, "At least like someone, celebrating something."
Apparently, shorts and tank tops are not appropriate party attire.
Thankfully, Cassie comes with us. We head to Laurel's room, a small space with clothes splayed all over the king bed, and the rest of the crowd heads to the groom's rooms. They've already decorated it for a party, even though we upstaged them.
I take a quick shower, change into clean underwear, and don the fluffy hotel robe.
"I didn't get one of these." I run my fingers over the white terry cloth. "And we're in a suite."
Laurel motions for me to sit in the brown breakfast chair. She has it in front of the mirror, at a forty-five-degree angle, so I'm right in the sun.
I take the seat.