by Dee Garcia
Only so much fucking more.
The tropical palace that awaited us after the gates was the type of getaway most people only enjoy via the internet. Think luxurious mansion meets enormous treehouse. A portion of it was actually in the trees too, so much so that I had to crane my head back when I stepped out of the cab, and still I couldn’t see it all.
“Alone at last, Mr. Royce,” Eden purred as she sashayed past me, the cabbie already hulking our bags in behind her.
Alone at last, indeed.
This could be dangerous…in all the best ways possible.
The inside proved it.
Most of the home looked like a normal home with drywall and tile floors. The rest, however, was surrounded by exposed wood, floor to ceiling windows, natural floors, and a hut style roof. Fully furnished in warm tones, there was artwork on the cream-colored walls, all the usual pieces of technology and elements of comfort strewn about. The main level was made up of two living areas, a massive kitchen, a theater room, an office with a wall to wall library, and several balconies around the perimeter. And then there was the lone spiral staircase that led to the master bedroom, the master that was hidden up in the trees with its own balcony and infinity pool. I could vividly foresee Eden and I spending a lot of time in that pool, and that balcony, and that lush bed…
“Why are you looking at the bed like I’m lying naked on it?” Eden asked as she joined me in the bedroom after we tucked away all the groceries.
“Because I am,” I admitted unabashedly.
“We can make that happen, ya know,” she cooed, draping herself across the pristine white duvet, a finger crooking at me.
I was on her in a breath, only for her to press that very same finger to my lips, halting me in place as her legs anchored around me.
“After we unpack,” she stated, and I know confusion instantly colored my expression.
“Why would we unpack for a few days?”
“Cause we’re not staying here for a few days. We’ll be here until the new year.”
“What?” My head reared back in consternation. “That’s two weeks away!”
“I know, isn’t it great?” Her grin widened.
“Depends on what the price tag is,” I expressed honestly, already thinking up possible sums that could be way off, or way on.
“Your winnings covered most of it, to be honest,” she said, nonchalance and indifference prevalent in her tone.
“Most of it? How much more did you have to put in?” I asked, not because it was gone, because that’s what my winnings were going toward anyway, but because we were eventually going to run out of the money Eden had pulled from her account. I didn’t even want to think about what we were going to do when the time came.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s done,” Eden murmured, tempting me closer with that playful finger caressing my chin.
I should’ve just shut my ass up and gone along with it because after all, it was technically all her money at this point, but something about her aloofness to such a vital aspect of our plans pushed me to prod some more. One of us had to think rationally.
Taking her thin wrist between my fingers, I set it above her head, noting how she watched my every move.
“I realize it’s done, Angel, but if you plan to keep this trip going for a while, we have to—”
“Xander,” she cut me off softly, bringing her free hand up to my face. “I may be blonde, baby, but I’m not foolish. We’re good, seriously. There’s still plenty to take us elsewhere next year.”
Those baby blues held my gaze without falter, nothing but the absolute truth swimming within them. And I believed her. Despite not knowing how much she’d pulled to begin with, I believed her. Eden was indeed not a foolish woman, her last name cemented it. She was used to spending money, knew how to spend money. She wouldn’t leave us stranded, right?
“I just don’t want to see us SOL later,” I told her.
“Do you trust me?” she went on to ask, and at my nod, she slid the hand at my face up to join its partner, urging me impossibly closer with a squeeze of her legs.
“Then just enjoy this with me. Everything is gonna be okay.”
The confidence of her words somehow soothed my screaming rationale. I could do nothing but believe in her and my answer was taking hold of her proffered wrist, not needing to speak anything else of it. The fact is, I did trust her. Alarm bells might’ve blared, but I trusted her. Those alarm bells were simply because we’d grown up so differently. What was the norm for her was foreign to me. Besides, some things were better off done blindly, without a concrete plan, seeing as life often had a way of mangling our plans anyway.
“Does that mean I get to peel your clothes off now?” I questioned, ghosting a palm up the back of her thigh.
“It does, but only under one condition…” she replied.
“State your terms, Miss Scarsi.”
“We get in that pool after christening the bed,” she purred decadently, arching into my touch.
We can make that happen, Angel, trust me.
This was paradise.
Now, don’t misunderstand me—Puerto Rico was beautiful. So was the Dominican Republic.
But Bimini was my ultimate paradise.
I could get used to waking up to this view every day. Every single solitary day. The distant view of the beach from our vantage point was a real-life painting during sunrise, with all its bluish-purplish hues melting through the sky as the sun made its appearance. Each morning, I awoke relaxed, refreshed. Rolling over and seeing my man sleep so peacefully was a little sliver of heaven. I was happy, and I know Xander was too. Being this far away from the rest of the world had eased him immensely and if I’m being honest, it’d eased me too. Having him all to myself was also a nice bonus.
A really fucking nice bonus.
I could fan myself just thinking about it.
The last week was filled with what was probably some of the hottest intimate moments I’d had in all my life. And not just sex. Yes, there were plenty of times Xander had fucked the absolute shit out of me, leaving me almost breathless beyond repair, but he’d made love to me just as much too, leaving me equally as breathless. The things this man had the ability to do to me—mind, body, and soul—solidified the fact that I belonged to him and only him. I really could do this with him forever.
No, I wanted to do this with him forever. Consequences be damned. Our families be damned. These were our lives, lives we wanted to live together, and we were going to. I firmly believed it.
Love always wins.
Mark my words.
All schematics aside though, not having much to worry about gave us plenty of room to actually enjoy the holidays, something I didn’t think we’d get to do. And the best part of it all was that the homeowner made it a point to tell me there was an artificial tree and three tubs worth of Christmas decorations in the storage closet when I booked the timeshare. So, I made Xander pull it all out. I didn’t need or want lights on the exterior. I just wanted a tree, fake or not. I wanted us to share that tradition, even if we weren’t at home.
Unfortunately for me, life found a way to keep me in check, drowning me with emotions I hadn’t been expecting. The mere sight of all the decor was an instant reminder of Daddy. He loved the holidays much in the same fashion Xander’s mom did. Year after year, he went all out, made it a winter wonderland both in and outside our home. Christmas was always magical for me as a child. My heart ached at the thought of what he and the boys would do this year. Would they simply take my place in the kitchen and sit down as a family despite my absence, or would my home be as dark and dreary as the war that’d arisen between us?
Similar thoughts plagued me about Carla, and not solely about the holidays. Xander still hadn’t called her. She was probably going out of her right mind and it only reiterated that she might never accept me or approve of me because of this, a concept I didn’t want to entertain given Xander had become my everything. I had to hope, th
ough, that when the time came to finally meet her, she could look past the fact that I’d taken her son away from her for some time, and focus on the fact that I loved him with every facet of my being.
In any case, I stifled such thoughts down to the best of my ability and tried my absolute hardest to be present in the moment, because what good were memories if you were too preoccupied with things out of your control to enjoy them?
And I wanted our first Christmas to be memorable.
So, with Michael Bublé crooning about the most wonderful time of year and a few glasses of Pinot Grigio, Xander and I set out to adorn the tree in the living area that overlooked the biggest deck. Took us about an hour to get it all done but by the time we finished, the spirit of Christmas had completely wrapped itself around me. Nothing else mattered. I don’t know if it was the tree or the altitude, or just the wine itself, but I was lightheaded too, this delicious buzz spreading through my veins in a constant thrum like a forest fire. Xander only made it worse. Tasting the dry white off his lips left me with a severe case of the giggles and when he pulled away, flashing me a slinky, knowing grin, I giggled so hard I couldn’t get onto my feet.
“Drunk,” said his playful grin, his hand extended to help me up.
Right about then, it occurred to me that perhaps he was right all along, and I was a lightweight. Not that I was going to admit that aloud, but still, it crossed my mind amidst the same delicious buzz that now licked between my legs at the feel of his hard body pressed against mine.
Would his touch always do this to me?
“I think we’re ready to call it a night,” he murmured, nibbling my lower lip in the process.
No, baby, not really…
“After a shower, maaaybe,” I drawled, my mind deciding now was the perfect time for the festive little plan I’d devised earlier in the week.
“What do you mean, maybe? You can barely stand upright, lightweight,” he teased.
“Firstly, I’m not a lightweight,” I countered, slightly slurring a portion of it. “And secondly, I kinda just wanna lay outside for a little while, watch the stars, soak up the remainder of the time we have here.”
“Then we’ll lay outside. Go shower, I’ll clean up. Be careful up the stairs,” he added, sending me on my way with a swift slap to my ass.
With pleasure.
Unbeknownst to him, he was setting my plan perfectly into motion. I giggled quietly yet again and grabbed a Santa hat off the couch when he turned his back to start refilling the bins. The poor man had no idea what awaited him.
This was going to be fun.
Racing up the spiral stairs in my hazy state, I left a trail of clothes behind me en route to the en suite. I flipped the water onto the hottest setting possible and hopped in the natural stone shower before the water even warmed up. My typical shower routine usually consisted of merely standing under the spray until my skin blushed from the heat, but I rushed through the motions this time, anxious to give Xander his Christmas present a couple days early. I don’t think I’d ever shaved so fast. Once satisfied that I was smooth enough, I slammed a hand down on the lever and hopped right back out into the barely fogged bathroom.
With my towel wrapped around my body, I skittered out to the nightstand beside my side of the bed and tore open the top drawer, mentally debating whether or not I wanted to wrap myself up like a present too. You know, to continue the theme, but mostly because Xander lived to see this shit on me. I could melt him into a puddle at my feet in nothing but a pair of thigh highs, and I imagined the reaction would be infinitely more lethal when he had not a clue I’d bought a few items back in Ponce. The thought of surprising him was the singular reason I hadn’t mentioned my new arsenal. I don’t think he’d seen anything either, having kept it all tucked away at the very bottom of our bag. If he had, he would’ve mentioned it, trust me. One gander at a lace edge and the man would’ve been rolling them on my legs himself.
He loved it.
Guess the negligees are a yes…
Picking out only four matching items with a quickness, I hustled back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Well, to get semi-ready, really. No way in hell was I about to put on a full-face of makeup or fix my hair. I mean, what would be the point of going through the struggle of all that primping, only for him to muss it up in five seconds flat? Yeah, no, the tousled, all-natural look was happening. Plus, I don’t think my hand was currently steady enough to apply any sort of liner.
Flipping a few strands away from my face, I slipped on the Santa hat and gave myself one last look in the mirror, turning just slightly to check out my butt. The Pinot Grigio wouldn’t allow me to stifle another amused giggle. Xander was going to flip his shit, especially when I’d encased myself in his favorite color—red. And the Santa hat only added to the look.
Yes.
Perfectly festive; Red bra. Red garter, sans panties. White thigh highs. Even without shoes, I was festive as fuck, right?
My lips curled in a wicked smirk.
Showtime.
Upon emerging from the bathroom, I went around the room as quietly as possible, shutting off lights here, lighting a few candles there. I’d have thrown rose petals on the bed too, but I didn’t have any at my disposal. Oh well, not important, because by the time I finished, our room was quite possibly the most romantic setting I’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing, even if I’d done it myself. The candlelight gave the frond-style roof and the wooden walls this muted glow, highlighting the stark white cotton sheets dressing our bed and the sheer curtains draped over the top of the massive frame. I almost closed the blinds to shroud the room a little more but that view of the rainforest around us, combined with the starry sky to was just too beautiful to shut out.
Tiptoeing downstairs to the French doors that led out to the expansive balcony, I pressed myself up against the doorframe and took in the sight of my man, who was still none the wiser to what I’d been planning all week. He was messing around on an iPad we’d bought near the Bimini airport, lounging on one of the distressed patio chairs, another glass of wine on the small table beside him.
Ahem.
At the sound of my voice, Xander whipped his head up to where I stood, brown eyes widening for a split-second before they perused my body. When they landed on my face, I flashed him the sexiest smile I could muster and combed a hand through my hair.
“When you said you wanted to lay outside, this is not what I was expecting,” he said, his voice already several octaves lower, in that way that wrecked my panties every time.
Good thing I wasn’t wearing any.
“I know. You like?” I asked, spinning around coyly, the tip of the Santa hat swooshing around with me.
“I don’t like it, Angel. I love it.” The iPad was now very irrelevant. He tossed it aside and scooted to the edge of his seat, cajoling me forward with a wave of his hand.
I shook my head though. Distance was key if I was going to rile him up. “I’m glad you like it—Merry Christmas,” I purred, offering another slow spin, my eyes catching his gaze from over my shoulder.
“Are you implying you’re my Christmas present, Miss Scarsi?” he questioned.
“I am indeed.”
“Do I get to unwrap you too?”
“Isn’t that what one does with a present, Mr. Royce,” I tossed back, noting the gleam that flickered in his stare.
“It is, you’re right. So when exactly do I get to unwrap this delicious present?” he queried, rising to his feet, inching toward me with the precision of a hunter.
“Soon.” I gulped.
He was looming over me now, devouring me whole with one smooth sweep of those dark eyes. I had nowhere to go except flush against the doorframe at my back.
“How soon,” he pressed, making no move to touch me, yet.
“After you tell me what’s your favorite part.”
Xander laughed softly, shaking his head in mirth. “That’s not a fair question.”
“How so?”
I asked.
“Because I haven’t unwrapped my present yet, remember,” he murmured, skimming a finger along my shoulder and down its curved edge.
Reflexive to his touch, a shiver broke out hundreds of goose bumps over my skin. My nipples hardened too, and with a meager hiss, I squeezed my eyes shut, barely managing to say, “But from what you can see…”
I had to know.
“All of it,” he declared, tearing my eyes back open.
“You have to pick one,” I challenged.
“Seriously,” he barked, and I nodded, egged on by the three glasses of wine I’d downed in less than an hour.
Time trembled momentarily before he inhaled a deep breath, eyes glues to the apex of my thighs.
“At this particular moment, the lack of panties is my favorite part, Angel.”
The look he gave me as those words slipped past his tongue… God damn, it was sexy.
“Why?” I pressed, slithering one hand down my body.
“Because I can taste you by just looking at her, and I’m suddenly very, very thirsty. Tell me, Eden… are you wet?” he husked out.
“Yes…”
“How wet?”
“Touch me,” I hummed, bringing his hand where I needed him, but he was quick to withdraw and chide me with a simple shake of his head.
“No, I want you to tell me.”
“And I want you to touch me. I want you to feel what you do to me. My rules right now, X. I’m your gift, remember?”
“How could I forget?” He chuckled, lips grazing the curve of my neck. “Do I at least get to decide how I unwrap my present?”
“Yes—well, except location.”
My admission froze him still. “Why is that?”
“Because the rest of your present is upstairs.”
I counted at least fifteen seconds before he lifted his head to meet my stare, a brilliant smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “What do you have up your sleeve, Angel?”
“One delicious night,” I promised, a promise that sprung him right into action.
We were moving in an instant, my ass trapped in his hands as he walked us through the house and up the spiral staircase. He was eager, as was I, anticipation of what laid ahead muting us both. Except for my laugh. It came naturally, freely, yet even to my own ears, it sounded wanton and carnal. I was practically throbbing for him and all he’d done was dance those plump lips up my neck.
