Melody & Styx - Anne Mercier Page 0,4
"You're making a mistake."
Meggie sneers. "You're the one who made the mistake. Tell the others. See how well it sits with them. You all just ruined the perfect family. Now move."
He looks to Cage who gives him a nod. Prick.
We walk out into the cooling southern California night air and take a deep breath. I pull Meggie into my arms, ignoring the flashes from the cameras for a few seconds. Then we walk right through them, hand-in-hand.
"What now?" I ask.
"I want to be anywhere but here," she replies.
"Then let's go anywhere."
3
Meggie
We don't talk about it when we pack our stuff. We don't talk about it as we board a plane we chartered. We don't talk about it the whole way there, in fact, we don't talk much at all. Both Trace and I are very much in our heads right now, so much so neither of us sleep on the lengthy flight to Bora Bora.
"I'm so tired," I mutter, and I don't mean just from the lack of sleep.
Trace nods. "It's been nothing but drama, death, and constant worry since we joined up."
"Yeah," I sigh. We disembark the plane and get into the car that's waiting for us. The Russo's aren't the only ones with connections.
Trace takes my hand as we sit in the back seat. I rest my head back, but then turn to look at him. He does the same, looking at me.
"I know," he tells me, seeing the hurt in my eyes. He always knows.
"I don't get it, I whisper.
He closes his eyes then takes a deep breath. When he opens those gorgeous green eyes, they're a deep mossy green rather than the usual sparking emeralds. "Me neither."
We arrive at the resort and make our way to our own little bungalow/hut. No one here recognizes us or if they do, they don't make a big deal about it like everyone does in the States. It's a refreshing change.
Trace arranged for vodka, soda, and rum in abundance as well as fruit and snacks. We'll order our meals in or go out if we can muster up the energy.
It's humid and a little hotter than is comfortable, but with the ceiling fans as well as the ones stationed around the bungalow, it's tolerable. After Trace tips the dude who brought our bags for us, I strip out of my clothes and boots, down to just my panties and cami then fall face-first onto the massive bed.
"Drink?" Trace offers, bringing vodka in a glass.
"A man after my own heart."
He winks. As he removes his clothes, I sit back and sip the vodka, enjoying the tiny burn I get in my throat. When it's gone, Trace pours me more without even asking. He knows me so well.
"Just enough to help us sleep," he says between drinks from his own glass.
"I hope this will shut my mind off. I don't know if I'm pissed off, disappointed, or hurt," I admit.
"All three." Trace sits on the bed next to me.
I sigh. "Yeah. I just never thought—"
He places a finger over my lips. "No more thinking. We're running on no sleep for two days. Let's worry about it when we wake up tomorrow."
I nod and finish my drink, setting the glass on the bedside table. I roll and face the middle of the bed and Trace. He does the same. We just stare at one another for a while, until our eyes start to get heavy.
"I love you, Meg," Trace tells me softly.
"I love you, too." Then we both drift off to sleep.
I wake up to the feel of Trace's wicked tongue sliding up and into my pussy. I wonder how long he's been doing this? I can't imagine sleeping through the mastery of Trace's tongue. My hands move to his head and he looks up at me.
"About time you woke up."
"How long have you been down there?"
He shrugs. "Not long. But I'm not done so don't rush me."
"Have at it." Far be it for me to rush him. He's so damn good at this. Sometimes I hate every woman that came before me, but right now I'm thankful because he's using that magic on me. I get to enjoy it, and I plan on keeping him.
He slides a finger inside me.
"Nice and wet," he purrs. "Just how I like you."
"Uh-huh," I mutter, not paying attention to what he said. Just so long as he doesn't stop.
Another finger joins the first and when my body starts shaking, he flicks his tongue against my clit.