Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,5
glistened against the cobalt blue sky. More evidence of his recent swim coated his defined abs and his wet swim trunks clung to his thick thighs…
Everything about this man screamed confidence. Not the cocky kind I’d seen in Max. No, this man wasn’t a college kid who specialized in picking up girls. This man dominated every situation. He was a man who knew what he wanted and took it.
Moving my gaze back upward, I sucked in a deep breath at the most stunning light blue eyes I’d ever seen. As if summoned by my gasp, those eyes moved from Max and unashamedly scanned me from my auburn hair and floppy hat to my brightly painted toes. The sear of his gaze peppered my skin with goose bumps and pebbled my nipples as it lingered on everything in between.
Noticing my visible reaction, the side of his scowl moved upward to a lopsided grin. And then he once again turned back to Max and his threatening yet protective tone returned.
“I’m her husband.”
Though I should have argued, I was too intrigued to interrupt.
“That person you mentioned…” he paused for effect and then went on, “is me and I’m not somewhere else. I’m here. Leave my wife alone or I’ll have you thrown out.”
Words came to my mind, ones that could both confirm or negate the charade he was playing, but something in this man’s demeanor held me mute on my chaise while simultaneously lifting me above the clouds. He obviously didn’t need my help to be convincing. Besides, this week was supposed to be about exploring life and the real me. In that instant, I knew that I didn’t want to do that with Max, but if given the opportunity to live out my fantasies, I was confident that the man eclipsing the sun would be perfect for the job.
Shaking his head and lifting his hands in surrender, Max stood. His silhouette dwarfed by that of my husband’s. My insides tingled, wondering what else about this mystery man would outshine the retreating frat boy.
“Bye, Charli with an i,” Max said, adding, “Maybe you should wear your rings?”
“Yes, Charli,” the deep voice scolded, “don’t tell me you’ve misplaced them again.”
“No,” I replied with a smirk, making my decision to play out this game. “I’m most certain they’re right where I left them.”
“SHALL WE GO check the room?” the mystery man asked, his deep voice sending more chills to my sun-kissed skin as he extended his hand.
Although the desire to take his hand and look for my nonexistent rings was growing, the part of me that I was trying to suppress came to the surface, and I shook my head. When I looked up to the way his gaze narrowed at my refusal, my heart clenched. “Why don’t you have a seat…?” I pointed to the chair Chelsea and Max had both vacated. “…dear? I’m sure they’re in the safe. I put them there last night.” My witty response floated away with the rush of the nearby surf.
What is he thinking? Is he questioning me or admonishing me with those eyes?
Holding my breath, I hid behind my painted smile and shifted slightly in my chair, suddenly very aware of the coarseness of the beach towel below the thin material of my bathing suit. His silent glare continued as I caught the back of Max’s blond head in my peripheral vision. I watched as Max approached a buxom blonde. Within seconds he was seated beside her in the pool bar. I shook my head slightly, thinking how he obviously wasn’t plagued by second-grade insecurities.
Before I could divert my gaze, Mr. Deep Voice followed my line of sight. “If you’d rather be graced with his presence, I could go tell him that we have an open marriage.”
“What?” I asked, turning back toward him, my mouth agape.
“My only condition,” he added with a grin, “is that I get to watch.”
Crossing my arms over my too-exposed breasts, I said, “Excuse me? Who the hell—?”
The vein in his neck jumped to life as he leaned closer. “No. The appropriate reply to what I just did would be to thank me for saving you from that leech.”
I opened my eyes wide before moving my sunglasses back up and laying my head upon the chair. “Thank you,” I mimicked in my most snobbishly dismissive voice.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
His shoulders stiffened. “No, Charli, with an i. Apparently I mistook you for someone who wouldn’t