“I’ve never been in first class,” I muttered, “and I’m going to get thrown out before I even hit the plane.”
Frowning I waited what felt like a millennium but was only a few seconds and wandered over to the restroom door. Feeling like a total idiot I knocked on it and asked, “Baby, you feeling okay?”
When no answer came, I slipped inside like I was a concerned spouse and nothing more.
We so couldn’t be fooling anyone with that crap.
Once inside I discovered there were separate doors for men and women.
I knocked on the men’s, and my knuckles had barely left the door before it opened wide enough for Braden to haul me inside, slam it shut, lock it, and press my back against it.
I slid my arms around his shoulders as he pressed his hard body against mine. “We’re so getting kicked out of first class.”
His hand caressed my ass before coasting down my thigh and then back up under my dress. His talented fingers slipped beneath my panties and he whispered hoarsely, “Then let’s make it worth it.”
Chapter 5
The Honeymoon—Part 2
From the moment we stepped into our plantation-style villa in the luxury resort Braden had booked for our honeymoon in the Pacific, I didn’t want to go home.
A few minutes’ walk from the main resort, up a landscaped, lamp-lit path, sat our villa. A huge deck with a plunge pool and a cabana overlooked the ocean. Inside was a huge airy, beautiful living room with white furniture I was almost afraid to touch and a gorgeous bedroom with a four-poster bed draped in white voile and a walk-in-closet. The final touch of beauty was the marble bathroom, which must have been bigger than Olivia’s entire flat.
Braden and I had been there for three days. We’d spent our days lazing by our private pool, enjoying spectacular views that filled you with the kind of contentment I wished every day would bring. At night we’d choose from one of the three amazing restaurants, head off to one of the bars to have a few drinks, and then we’d head back to the villa where we made love for hours.
Best. Honeymoon. Ever.
For a change of scenery, we’d left the villa on the third day and grabbed a couple of sun loungers under a cabana on the beach. Every now and then a courteous member of staff would approach us and ask us if we wanted anything to eat or drink while we both lay there, reading on our e-readers and soaking up the sun.
Just an hour before Braden had finally managed to coax me into the sea. I hadn’t been too keen on entering the water, but it was so beautiful its tranquility and Braden’s persistence finally got to me and I decided to wade in.
Lulled by Braden’s patience, I was completely taken off guard when he dunked me.
You did not dunk Jocelyn Butler Carmichael and get away with it.
Thus commenced a water wrestling match that had children swimming out of the way to avoid us while their parents shot us dirty looks. Braden was cracking up. He would be. He was winning. It was only after he lifted me and cannonballed me into the water so hard that I almost lost my bikini top in front of the entire resort that he decided the game had hit its peak. I spluttered and coughed as he swam up to me and retied the strings of the bikini around my neck.
“Happy now?” I’d slapped water at him, throwing him a mock-dirty look.
He’d kissed my neck and wrapped his arms around my waist under the water. “Always.”
There really was no way to be crabby at an answer like that, so I’d let him off the hook, letting him lead me back to our loungers where we were currently drying out. Braden was lying on his stomach, his tall body too big for the lounger, but he seemed comfortable enough. I had turned onto my side, watching him doze in the afternoon sun. Everything about the moment was perfect. From the sound of the water lapping gently to shore, the cries of happy kids, the soft chatter of couples, the smell of suntan lotion and seawater, the tiny flutter of my husband’s lashes as he dreamed beside me . . .
I should be terrified.
It was a lot to lose.
That fear niggled at me and I determinedly pushed it back out.
“Why are you staring at me?” Braden asked quietly, eyes still closed against the sun.
“I’ve never seen you relax for this long. It’s nice.”
“It’s actually nice to be relaxing.”
Raising an eyebrow, I teased, “You’re telling me you’re not missing keeping busy?”
His eyes opened slowly, blinking in the sunlight. He shifted up onto his elbows. “I have uninterrupted access to my wife for the next two weeks. Believe me, I’m not missing a thing.”