Castle Hill

by Young, Samantha

  Like always the world disappeared and I found myself balancing precariously half on, half off my lounger, clinging to Braden’s biceps as he drugged me with kisses that still knocked me off-kilter.

  The sound of a sharp, playful child’s scream broke us apart, and I smiled ruefully as Braden brushed my lower lip with his thumb. He glanced over in the direction of the scream and my gaze followed his. A young boy was chasing what appeared to be his little sister, his delighted laughter and her mock-screams annoying a young couple that lazed near the spot of their antics.

  Braden looked back at me. “We can return to the villa, lie by the pool, if the kids are bothering you.”

  Frowning, I shook my head. I didn’t mind the kids. Their excitement and joy only added to the overall atmosphere of the resort. “The villa seems a long way away right now and I honestly don’t mind the kids.”

  My reply caused Braden to tilt his head and ask in obvious surprise, “Really?”

  I snorted and lay back down. “Really.”

  “Well, that’s a good sign.”

  The smile in his voice for some reason caused my stomach to flip. And not in a good way. “What’s a good sign?” I asked, not really sure if I wanted an answer or not.

  “You. Not minding the kids.”

  Yup, I definitely didn’t want the answer.

  “If you don’t mind the noise of other people’s kids, then you’ll definitely not mind the noise our kids will make.”

  He might as well have wrapped his hand around my throat. I tried to swallow past the constriction his words had caused and I knew I had to get up, walk away, do anything, so that I didn’t have a panic attack. So it wouldn’t be obvious he’d freaked me out I waited as long as I could before saying, “You want a drink? I’m going to get a drink.”

  I felt his eyes on me as I shoved on my flip-flops and sunglasses, hurriedly tying my sarong around my waist. Not once did I look at him but I knew from his quiet, “Sure, babe,” I hadn’t been successful in keeping my freak-out to myself.

  The whole time the bartender was making up our drinks the guilt clawed at me. I’d left Braden back there wondering what the hell had happened and if I was shutting him out. That was something I’d promised never to do to him again, and I had to keep that promise. With that in mind I took the drinks back to him and settled back onto my lounger.

  After a few minutes of quiet I said, “Let’s go lie on our deck at the villa.”

  Glancing over at Braden I found him staring at me, his brow puckered in consternation. “Why?”

  I held his gaze and answered pointedly, “Because I like the peace and quiet. I want that for a while yet.”

  Braden drew in a deep breath and slowly sat up to face me. Resting his elbows on his knees he leaned in and asked, “But one day you’ll want the noise, right?”

  My heart started to bang around in my chest at the thought but I nodded tremulously. “Yes. But I just want it to be us for a while.”

  Something dark I didn’t quite understand flashed in his eyes but he kissed me, cupping my face in his hand, and he murmured against my lips, “All right.”

  When he pulled back his eyes moved behind me and he frowned at something. Feeling like there was definitely something off about his acquiescence, I asked, “You okay?”

  I got a reassuring nod and he pulled back, standing up to gather his things.

  Turning, I did the same, shoving my flip-flops back on and bending down to find my e-reader, which I’d hidden under my lounger in the shade.

  “Do you fucking mind?” Braden snapped.

  My head jerked up at his tone and my eyes collided with my neighbor. He was an older man, perhaps in his late forties, early fifties, he wasn’t with anyone, and he was staring in mild amusement over my shoulder at my husband. His eyes flicked to my boobs and then back to Braden.

  Great.

  I didn’t need to look around to know that Braden’s sharp aggression had drawn all of our neighbors’ gazes.

  “Your woman is very beautiful,” the stranger commented in a thick accent.

  I tensed and quickly turned around to face Braden, giving him a shake of my head. “Leave it.”

  He didn’t leave it.

  He gently took hold of my wrist and pulled me behind him so he could lean into the stranger’s face. “My wife is very beautiful. But to you she’s invisible. Understood?”

  The stranger nodded. “Understood.”

  I understood too. I understood I was mortified.

  Not wanting to cause more of a scene, I let Braden hold my hand as we walked up the beach but as soon as we were out of sight I tugged out of his hold.

  “You’re pissed off.” He sighed.

  “Yes, I’m pissed off. There was no need to speak to him that way. It was embarrassing. You were peeing all over me.”

  I heard his snort of laughter but didn’t dare look at him because I was afraid I’d kill him.

  “That arsehole was ogling you all fucking day and ignoring every warning look I gave him. I don’t appreciate another man staring at my wife like he’s imagining fucking her when he knows I’m standing right fucking there.”

  “Is dropping the f-bomb three times really necessary?”

  He sighed, heavily this time. “You’re still pissed off.”

  Yes, I’m still pissed off. “I’m confused. You overreacted and you know you overreacted. I’m just thinking the overreaction had nothing to do with that idiot staring at my breasts.”

  Instead of agreeing, instead of telling me he was bothered by the unspoken issue that was on our minds, Braden shook his head impatiently and began striding toward the villa without me.

  ***

  Dinner was a quiet affair.

  I’d spent the rest of the afternoon lying by the pool with my headphones on listening to Bastille while Braden took a walk around the resort. By the time he came back I was in the shower. When I got out of the shower to get ready for dinner, he got in. Afterward Braden attempted conversation with me. I grunted answers at him, not so much pissed at him anymore as pissed that he’d given me reason on our honeymoon to be pissed at him.

  He’d scowled at me when I strode out of the walk-in wearing a figure-hugging blue dress. The fabric was a thin, stretchy jersey, so although it covered me, it pretty much left little to the imagination. It was a hot dress and I’d bought it for my hot husband.

  At the time the thought hadn’t been to torture him, but I was pissed, so now it was about torturing him.

  Our walk to dinner was quiet. The night before we’d dined at the Oceanview, a restaurant situated on the beach. Tonight I silently led us to the Great Room in the main house of the resort.

  That silence reigned between us all through dinner.

  The tension between us was thickening and I could tell Braden was losing patience with it. Or me, rather.

  Deciding the best thing for us was to get a good night’s sleep and put the stupid argument behind us, I quietly suggested we leave out drinks tonight and just return to the room. I took his brusque nod as agreement.

  Dinner over, we strolled back to the villa. I kicked off my heels to sink my feet into sand, only reluctantly trailing back onto the landscaped path to our villa, all the while secretly dreading a quiet night in with annoyed silence and no sex.

  Inside the air-conditioned heaven, I threw my heels to the floor and padded on cool tiles toward the bedroom. I heard Braden’s footsteps behind me seconds before I found myself jerked back against his body.

  I gasped at the sudden movement, my breath hitching as one hand coasted roughly up my stomach to cup my breast, while the other gripped lightly to my hair. Braden gently tugged my head back, exposing my neck. Those familiar shivers tingled through me as he kneaded my breast, and pressed hot, wet kisses down the side of my neck.

  Just as abruptly a
s he’d pulled me to him, Braden pushed me forward until I hit the bed. My torso bowed over the end of it as he nudged my legs open with his feet. In the same motion he slipped his hands under the hem of my tight dress and shoved the fabric upward until it hit me midback, baring my ass to him.

  By this point my breathing was as hot and heavy as his.

  Cool air touched my skin as Braden tugged my panties down. I stepped out of them and kicked them aside, quickly widening my stance again and biting back a moan at the feel of Braden’s erection pressing against my ass.

  His fingers dug into my hips as he tormented me with the promise of him.

  “Braden,” I whispered, his name a plea.

  He rubbed his cock between my legs, teasing me mercilessly. I rocked back and forth against him until it was too much.

  “Please,” I whimpered.

  I lost his heat, but it was quickly replaced with his strong fingers slipping between my legs and deep inside.

  He groaned to find me already wet and just like that his fingers were gone, a zip sounded, and his cock slammed into me. I whimpered again, my chest pressed to the bed, my hands gripping the sheets as Braden held me tight by the hips and thrust roughly in and out of me.

  The build started quickly and I found myself rearing back against his dick in desperation.

  “Harder?” he growled.

  “Harder,” I gasped.

  He pumped harder into me and just as I was on the cusp of coming, Braden pulled out, flipped me over onto my back as if I weighed nothing, and took hold of the hem of my dress, pulling it up over my head. He tossed it aside, hurriedly removing his own shirt before gripping my thighs, spreading my legs, and jerking me toward him so only my back was pressed against the bed.

  Our eyes locked and we both moaned as he slid back inside me.

  As he fucked me toward oblivion we kept our eyes locked, the connection heightening our arousal, shooting us toward climax faster. His panting breaths and my gasp filled the night air until his cock drove deep, shattering the fragile tension inside of me.

  “Jocelyn,” he groaned as my inner muscles squeezed him. He jerked hard against me, shuddering as I felt his release inside of me.

  After a moment he wrapped his arms around me and I wrapped my limbs around him, allowing him to drag me farther up the mattress. As soon as I was fully on the bed, Braden collapsed over me, his mouth nuzzling my neck as I squeezed my thighs around his waist and stroked the damp skin of his muscular back.

  He lifted his head to press a soft kiss to my mouth, asking as he pulled back, “Did I make my point?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “That you’re still a freaking caveman? Yes.”

  His chuckle made him shake against me in a way I loved and I was disappointed when he rolled off of me. That disappointment quickly faded when he pulled me into his side.

  “I should clean up,” I murmured.

  “In a bit.” He sighed. “I didn’t like the way that guy was looking at you. I made a point.”

  “It was embarrassing . . . also . . . was it really just about the guy? Honestly?”

  “Of course.” He kissed my hair. “And . . . maybe the bikini. Maybe you shouldn’t wear that one again.”

  “I thought you liked that bikini.”

  “I do like that bikini, but so does every man on this resort with a dick he knows how to use.”

  “Hmm, okay.”

  He snorted. “You know I hate to point this out since we’re speaking again, but you’ve acted worse when you’ve found women flirting with me.”

  Dammit.

  “Okay, true. But I thought we were trying to be grown-ups now that we’re married.”

  “Is that what you were doing at the airport?” He chuckled again. “Being a grownup?”

  He had a freaking answer for everything. “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’m sorry for being pissed. I guess I was a little edgy. . . .”

  “Because I mentioned kids again?”

  I tensed against him. “I just . . . I want to wait a few years, but I don’t want you to be upset about that. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  I quickly found myself on my back, my husband braced over me. “You’re not,” he promised. “We’ll wait.”

  In answer I kissed him.

  Thinking back on it, I kissed him so I didn’t have to see the disappointment he was trying so hard to hide.

  Chapter 6

  The Homecoming

  Something nudged me into consciousness, but I refused to open my eyes. Instead I kept my face buried in the warm, familiar skin of Braden’s neck.

  It became clear that the thing that woke me was my husband. I could feel him trying to extricate himself from my hold as gently as possible.

  I held on tighter.

  Braden shook against me, his tone rumbling with laughter as he asked, “Am I not allowed out of bed this morning?”

  “Nope,” I mumbled against his skin. “If you move, I’ll have to move. If I have to move it means facing the fact that we’re no longer in Hawaii. I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with that.”

  He rolled me onto my back, laughing at the fact that I refused to open my eyes. “So is the plan to stay here forever?”

  “Yes.”

  “That might become a problem.”

  I shook my head against the pillows. “I don’t foresee any problems. It’s a sound plan.”

  “Well.” Braden sighed. “We will eventually start to smell. And needing the toilet might become a problem. And with your issues with flatulence—”

  I punched him on the arm, opening my eyes so I didn’t miss. My husband fought me off, laughing as though he was the funniest man on earth.

  “One year,” I growled at him. “All I’m asking for is one year without you bringing that up!”

  “You getting adorably embarrassed when you fart in front of me?”

  After throwing him a narrow-eyed glare, I rolled off the bed. “I am not adorable,” I snapped, stomping out of the bedroom.

  “You’re fucking adorable!” he called to me as I made my way into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes. Braden could be pretty adorable, too, but he’d like it even less than me if I told him that.

  I reached for the kettle, about to call through and ask if he wanted coffee when a wave of nausea caught me completely off guard and I found myself swaying against the counter.

  “Babe, you okay?” Braden rushed to my side, grasping my hip in his hand.

  Breathing through my nose, I fought to hold the sickness down. After a moment I rested my forehead on his chest. “I don’t feel so great.”

  I felt his lips in my hair. “Jet lag. Sit down.” He ushered me toward the kitchen table and planted my ass at it. As he began to make the coffee the nausea rose again and I knew this time there was no fighting it. Without a word I shot up from the table and rushed out of the kitchen to the bathroom.

  The toilet lid was barely up when I heaved everything inside me into it.

  “Jocelyn?” I could feel Braden behind me.

  I waved him off. “I’ll be okay.”

  Sensing I wanted privacy, he left.

  After waiting a few moments to make sure the nausea was dealt with, I got up on shaky legs and washed and brushed my teeth. Seeing my pale face in the mirror, I glowered at it.

  Home sweet freaking home.

  “Better?” Braden asked as I entered the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” I smiled, gratefully accepting the coffee. “Much.”

  ***

  Sitting in the waiting room, listening to people cough and sniffle, I felt breakable for the first time in a long time. My chest was heavy, like the air all around me was much too thin, and my thoughts were too harried, making me feel like a crazy person.

  I just needed to know one way or the other.

  If I
knew . . .

  I just needed to know.

  “Jocelyn Carmichael, Room Five, Dr. Orr.”

  Here we go. . . .

  ***

  Braden was sprawled in the armchair, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his tie askew, and he was staring at the television as if he was only half-interested in what was going on.

  He’d had a long day at work.

  I’d just had a long day.

  And now I was terrified. Terrified of answers. Terrified of fucking up. Of losing . . . everything.

  We’d been home from Hawaii for almost four weeks and I’d been hiding my sickness from Braden ever since that first morning. After a visit to the doctor’s that day I was almost sure of the diagnosis, but I wouldn’t know until they called to confirm the results.

  “Jocelyn?”

  I turned my head to look at my husband.

  He was frowning at me in concern. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  “Nothing,” I whispered, my heart beating hard against my ribs.

  “It’s not nothing. You’ve been quiet. Tense.”

  I shrugged. “I’m just on tenterhooks waiting to see if that lit agent in New York wants to sign me.”

  After months and months of rejection letters I’d gotten an e-mail back from a lit agent from one of the top agencies in New York asking me for the first three chapters of my manuscript. When she e-mailed back asking to see the rest, I couldn’t believe it. I’d been trying not to get my hopes up, and my secret worry was helping keep my mind off it.

  “You sure that’s all it is?”

  I felt sick lying to him. So I didn’t. Instead I got up slowly and sauntered over to him, climbing onto the chair with him so I was straddling his lap. “I wish we were back in Hawaii,” I whispered against his mouth as he ran his hands down my back. “I wish, I wish, I wish . . .”

  “Joc—”

  I cut him off with a hard, desperate kiss, and that night I made love to my husband as if I knew what was coming next could change everything.