This was one of the things I loved about him. After having starved myself of affection for years it had taken me a while to get used to Braden’s tactility but now I wouldn’t know what to do without it. His affection for me came so easily he touched and kissed me all the time, even when he was half-distracted. I’d gone from being uncomfortable with it, to expecting and coveting it.
“Here.” I nodded, taking a reluctant step back. “I need to go to the restroom. I’ll meet you at the bar.”
After I peed, I stood in front of the washstand, searching my face in the mirror. After the wedding Ellie had said I looked different. I hadn’t known what she meant at the time but gazing at my reflection I had to wonder if it was something different about my eyes. They were gunmetal gray and tip tilted. They weren’t warm, friendly eyes. I knew from photographs of myself that my eyes tended to come off intense, sometimes kind of bedroomy, even though most of the time it was unintended. The warmth only entered them in photographs that caught me laughing. However, staring into my eyes I could see a shift in them. The intensity hadn’t totally left them, but there was definitely something new reflected there. Something good. Something warm.
I ducked my head, smiling as I dried my hands.
My eyes dropped to my legs. They were bare in the sundress I’d chosen to wear in anticipation of the hot weather in Hawaii. My olive skin was ready to deepen to a tan as I lazed by the pool for the next fourteen days. Vacations weren’t something I ever bothered about because I’d lost all that stuff when I lost my family. However, I’d never been somewhere like Hawaii before. And I’d be there with my hot husband.
Braden and I had busy lives. This was the first time we’d spend a solid fourteen nights just enjoying each other’s company with no interference from work or friends or family. Days by the pool or on the beach, and nights of hot, energetic sex.
My smile turned smug.
Strolling out into the departure lounge I wandered slowly toward the bar, glad at least not to be rushing around in a sweaty, flustered mess as some late passengers were. Eyes drifting over the quiet bar, I found Braden’s back facing me as he sat on a stool. The female bartender kept throwing him surreptitious looks as she pretended to be busy.
Braden wasn’t a classically handsome guy, but he was rugged, sexy, very tall, well built, and he wore his suits better than an Armani model. Since the moment I’d met him I’d been struck by his natural confidence. It was hot. Even when it veered into arrogance, annoying the hell out of me, I still found it hot.
So it didn’t surprise me that a lot of people found my husband attractive too.
When we first started our no-strings-attached relationship I’d pretended not to care when I saw other women flirting with Braden. Afterwards, once I stopped putting him through the wringer and admitted that I loved him as much as he loved me, I’d found it hard not to chase the obnoxious flirts away from him. In fact, sometimes I lost my cool and wasn’t very diplomatic about telling those women that Braden was mine. Of course, he found this amusing and a total turn-on.
Not so much when the shoe was on the other foot.
Still, as our relationship had grown, so had my confidence in us, as had Braden’s, and together we’d mellowed somewhat. Not completely, but enough that right at that moment I didn’t want to stride up to Braden in front of the bartender and stake my claim.
I was going on my honeymoon. I’d taken a huge leap toward putting my issues behind me by even getting married. I was in a damn good mood.
I wanted to play.
Hiding my mischievous grin, I smoothed my features until they were perfectly blank and sauntered toward the bar. However, I didn’t take the stool next to Braden. My heels clicked on the hard, shiny floor as I sashayed onto a stool that gave me a good view of Braden . . . on the opposite side of the bar.
“What can I get you to drink?” the female bartender asked politely.
“A glass of red wine, please.”
I felt Braden’s eyes on me as the bartender turned to get me my drink. Flicking my gaze his way I saw his eyes dancing at my mischief.
He knew exactly what I was up to.
The bartender slid the glass of wine toward me as I attempted not to laugh.
“Hi,” I greeted casually down the bar. “I’m Jocelyn.”
He eyed me for a moment with those intimidating, gorgeous pale blue eyes of his. And then he obviously decided to just go with it when he slipped out of his stool and made his way over to the one next to mine. He gave me a smirk as he reached out to take my hand in his. I felt his thumb rub over my wedding rings. “Braden.”
I gave him a small, flirty smile. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I really should say no.” He held up his ring finger with his wedding band on it. “I’m married.”
“Oh?” I hid my smile, feeling a rush of excitement go through me at our little game. “I didn’t realize. I take it your wife isn’t with you this evening?”
“Apparently not,” Braden answered, his mouth twitching with definite amusement now as our eyes met.
Pretending we weren’t at a bar in an airport but at home, my gaze turned heated in a way Braden understood. “That’s good news.”
“It is?” he glanced down at my left hand.
I turned my diamond so that it sparkled beautifully in the light. “Yeah, I’m married too.”
Eyes staring into mine again, Braden’s reply was thick with a sincerity that somehow managed to be as emotional as it was sexual. “He’s a very lucky man.”
I tilted my head flirtatiously. “That’s what I hear.”
Braden leaned into me and I knew he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
My smile grew. “So can I buy you a drink?”
“I actually think I’d like that.”
The air was charged between us as he waited for my next move. I looked away and called the bartender over. After ordering him a drink, I waited to see if Braden would keep up the pretense with me.
“So, where are you traveling to?” he asked, his tone amused but slightly rough.
I didn’t have to look into his eyes to know he was aroused, but I looked anyway because I needed to.
“Hawaii.” I pressed my leg against his thigh, wishing we weren’t in a public place. I wanted his hands on me.
“Me too.”
“Your drink.” The bartender slid Braden’s drink to him.
We took hold of our glasses and clinked them together.
“Business or pleasure?” I asked saucily.
“Oh, I’m definitely hoping pleasure,” he said as I took a sip of wine.
Slowly I licked a drop of wine off my lower lip, triumphing over the suffocated groan it produced from the back of Braden’s throat. “That makes two of us.”
Eyes still on my mouth, Braden’s hand tightened around his glass. “My wife wouldn’t be too pleased to find a strange woman flirting with me at a bar.”
“Is your wife the jealous type?” I teased.
My amusement was stifled by the intensity of our connection as our eyes held. “She can be,” he murmured.
I sucked in a breath. “Are you the jealous type?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I smiled. “So you’re both a little possessive, huh? I don’t suppose she’d like what I’m thinking about doing to you, either.”
Braden ran his gaze over my face before replying. “No, she definitely wouldn’t. But, you know . . . you remind me of my wife.”
Chuckling, I pressed my leg harder against his. “Yeah, you remind me of my husband.”
Eyes glittering with laughter, Braden asked, “What would your husband do if he were here right now?”
“Well, he’s a little possessive himself, but a gentleman, so he’d be polite when he made it perfectly clear to you that I wasn’t yours to flirt with.�
��
“Smart man.”
“That’s what I hear.”
His laughter always made me feel like I’d won something.
I stared, relishing everything about him. Slowly, his laughter faded and we were staring at each other like we were about to start going at it right there on the bar. “Then what would he do?”
The tingling between my legs flared to life and I felt my breasts swell against the thin material of my sundress. Shifting closer, inhaling his familiar scent, I wished we were somewhere we could do something about being this turned on.
“Jocelyn?”
I cleared my throat. “He’d probably kiss me. And then he’d insist on hearing about all the things I’m going to do to him when I get him alone.”
Braden’s eyes instantly darkened, his head descending toward mine before I could blink. His kiss was deep and hot, and I found myself clinging to him. I shivered at the feel of his hand sliding discreetly under my dress, his touch making my nipples pebble with need. I gasped breaking our kiss.
Barely cognizant of anything around us, I drew his ear to my lips. “As soon as I get you alone,” I whispered, “I’m going to let you fuck me as hard as you want.” I then went on to elaborate until my breathing grew hitched, and the muscles in Braden’s jaw were tense.
In fact, every line of his body was. His hand was clamped tightly around my thigh. I dropped my forehead to the side of his jaw, trying to control my breathing.
After a few very long minutes, Braden’s grip on me loosened and he pulled me into a hug. I nuzzled his neck, feeling the burn of unsatisfied lust. “Sorry,” I murmured against his skin.
He stroked my back in comfort. “Don’t be. It was hot.”
“Too hot for an airport.”
I felt him shake slightly, obviously laughing. “Probably. I’ll take care of you later, though. And, hey, at least you don’t have a hard-on in public.”
My turn to laugh now. Pulling back I glanced down at his lap, hidden under the bar, to see he was not lying. Glancing up into his face I said, “Your mother. Naked.”
A look of distaste took the heat out of his eyes.
He took a swig of whiskey and eventually muttered, “Thanks.”
I looked down at his lap. The erection was gone.
Trying not to smile, I looked away casually and asked airily, “What do you want to talk about until the flight is called?”
“Cold wind. Sleet. The ugly doorman at Club 39. Porridge.”
I burst out laughing. “You mean anything that won’t give you an erection?”
He smiled at me, his eyes roaming my face lovingly. “Maybe we should just stop talking altogether. And put a bag over your head. And cover your legs.”
“Just don’t look at me.”
“I can still smell you.”
“I could move.”
“Dare move away from me and I’ll put you over my knee, Wife.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Braden cut me a dirty look and I covered my mouth with my hand so he couldn’t see my grin.
We were silent for a few minutes and then I leaned my elbow on the bar, resting my chin on my palm as I told him softly. “I’m loving our honeymoon so far.”
He took my other hand in his. “I am too.”
I shifted closer to him, resting my knee against his. “Do you want to wait in the first-class lounge? I’m sure it’s filled with stuffy businessmen types who will certainly shatter the very sexual mood we’ve got going on here with all their stiff-upper-lippishness.”
Braden’s mouth twitched. “Stiff-upper-lippishness?”
“Stiff-upper-lippishness.”
He nodded, laughing softly now as he got up out of the stool and helped me down from mine. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he said as he walked us toward the lounge, “Maybe we should stop using the word ‘stiff’ since apparently being married to you means losing control over my body and any self-respect I might have.”
“Grounds for divorce?” I teased as we showed our boarding passes to an airline attendant at the lounge doors.
“Grounds for a marathon fucking,” he answered dryly, not caring that the airline attendant had turned purple at his reply. “You won’t be able to walk for a while when I’m done with you,” he continued, gently guiding me into the lounge, leaving the gasping attendant behind.
I determinedly tried not to show my embarrassment, as I was used to him sometimes saying hot, blush-inducing shit like that to me in public. The key was to not let him know he’d flustered me.
“I’m happy with that as long as we’re talking multiple orgasms.”
Three suits turned their heads toward me from the small bar in the lounge, their eyebrows raised.
Braden and I stopped and I felt his hand squeeze my hip. “We’re going to get thrown out of the first-class lounge.”
I smirked. “You started it.”
“Actually, you started it.”
I heaved a sigh and glanced at my watch. “Well, unfortunately we’ve got about ten hours before we can finish it.”
Not looking too happy about that, Braden’s eyes swept the room, a glint entering them when they stalled on the restroom door.
“No,” I said immediately.
He threw me that boyish grin that was very, very difficult to resist.
Shit, fuckity, shit, fuck.
“Braden, no,” I hissed. “There’s no way we can do that discreetly.”
“So?”
“Braden—”
He let go of my hand. “Follow me in after a minute.”
I grabbed his hand back. “No, we’re acting like teenagers.”
His grin widened as he leaned his head toward mine. “We’re on our fucking honeymoon, babe, that’s the whole point.” He glanced back at the restroom and squeezed my hand. “I’ll go and then you follow me after a minute. Pretend I’m ill or something and you’re just checking up on me.”
Before I could refuse again, Braden strolled away from me, disappearing into the restroom.
I looked around the lounge. There were only four men in it and one woman and not one of them was watching me. Still . . .
“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 . . .
Castle Hill: A Joss and Braden Novella Page 4
