by D. B. James
I’m not sure I’ll ever tire of calling him my husband. He’s always been my Rhys, first my friend, then my best friend and confidant. He was torn out of my life once before, and when we lost each other, I never thought we’d cross paths again. When I was running from Smith, I never for a moment believed my world would come crashing back into Rhys’. I am forever grateful it did though. He saved me in more ways than one. He claims I saved him, but we both know it’s me who was truly saved.
He could’ve kept working for Martinelli for life, and I doubt it would’ve made a true difference in the man he is underneath, the protective beast I know he is inside, the one he says was hiding, the killer he claims he was but deep down wasn’t. He only killed when he was in the army, never for hire. He wasn’t a monster—not like Smith.
“What’s spinning behind those lovely whiskey eyes?”
“Nothing much. I was thinking about how lucky I am to have found you again, and about how you called yourself a monster but truly never were.”
“Is that true?”
“Yep.” The word pops from my lips, and I know my one-word answer will bother him. Secretly, I want him a bit riled up.
“If you hadn’t come along, we both know I would’ve become exactly what I was terrified of—a monster. I was close to the breaking point. You saved me the same way I saved you. Now, get your sexy ass in the shower before I hurl you up over my shoulder and toss you in there. We have a plane to catch.”
He catches my stunned expression and winks at me, again. He’s got to stop doing that. He knows what it does to me, and how I don’t hate it as much as I claim to. It turns me into a pile of damn mush. Every single time he does it, I want to climb him like a jungle gym.
Stupid, stupid wink.
“Fine, I’ll go take a shower, alone, but only because we’re going on our honeymoon.” Standing, I begin to make my way over to where he’s still leaning near the bathroom doorway. “Don’t think for one minute I’m going to forget about you winking again. You’ll pay for it in Cancun.” As I pass by him, I drop my robe at his feet and swiftly close the door, locking it behind me and laughing at his groan of frustration as I step into the shower.
So far, married life is amazing.
Less than two hours later I find myself sitting in a chair, mindlessly thumbing through a magazine, waiting for my husband to meet our friends near the security checkpoint. You’d think they would’ve made it easier on us all and actually listened to our directions about getting to the airport early, but oh no, not our crowd.
Tessa’s claims her alarm never went off. Bull-frickin-shit. I know for a fact it did, because I set it to go off every four minutes starting at 9 AM. She must’ve ignored every shrilling scream it made as it attempted to wake her lazy ass.
Brant didn’t give us an excuse, at least not a valid one. He claims he drove Justin and his date Scott home then decided to sleep off his own drunken stupor on his neighbor’s front steps instead of crawling the few steps to his own—right next door. What doesn’t add up to me is that he wasn’t drunk when we left, and I could’ve sworn Justin and Scott left shortly after we bid them farewell, before we gave Brant the ticket to Cancun.
Judging from the way they had to hurry to get here to make our flight, I’m going to take a wild guess and say they’ll both be moody as hell.
I’m incredibly thankful Rhys and I have seats in first class, where we can melt away for a couple of hours and not have to deal with the drama of Tessa and Brant. We don’t disembark in Dallas, so maybe we’ll be lucky enough to not have to deal with them until we land in Cancun.
I’m about to toss this trashy magazine down when I hear my friend arriving.
“Is this seat taken, or is it only for bitches going to Cancun?”
I do indeed toss the magazine down in my haste to rise and hug my friend.
“Well this is the gate for passengers going to Cancun, and maybe I can be convinced to let you sit here, next to me, in this wonderfully empty though unfortunately hard chair. Are you up for the challenge?”
“Eek! I can’t seem to control my excitement, Av. Nothing awesome like this happens to me, ever. Thank you again for thinking of me.” Okay, maybe she’s not moody, but I’m still betting Brant will be.
As she takes the seat next to me, I reach for her hand, gently squeezing her fingers to let her know I hear her and her thanks aren’t needed.
“Honestly, it was nothing. You deserve the best, and I’m grateful we were able to make you happy for a few days.” Turning to take her in, I make sure she meets my gaze before I continue. “This is the last conversation we need to have about it. You earned it. Have some fun, drink too much tequila, find a hot local guy to warm up your bed with, hang out at the beach working on your tan, indulge in as much local cuisine as your foodie heart desires—whatever you want to do, do it. It’s a vacation, there are no rules.”
Before another word is uttered, Rhys and an un-Brant-like Brant approach. He looks like he went a couple rounds with Mike Tyson, and Mike was undoubtedly crowned the winner.
“Before you say anything, he face-planted into Justin’s stairs before passing out on them for the night. A word to the wise: don’t rile the lion. Just be glad he’s here and ignore him, at least until we get some decent food into his stomach, and maybe a vat of coffee,” Rhys says before Brant has a chance to claim one of the still vacant seats closest to Tessa and myself. He falls down into one with a loud thud.
Thank goodness our flight is scheduled to start boarding in a few minutes—I don’t want him corrupting my happiness bubble. Please be boarding on time, plane gods.
Rhys has chosen to stay standing next to my chair, his hand on my shoulder, offering some comfort I don’t actually need.
“Rhys?”
His gaze searches mine out before he answers me. He’s a big fan of eye contact. “Yes, babe?”
“When we get to our resort, I have something I’d like to discuss if we’re not too tired, unless you already have plans for us this evening. If you do, I can wait until tomorrow.”
It’s not as if I need to tell him I’d like to start a family tonight, but it would be nice to know his answer. I need to brace myself for the chance that he wants to wait a while…maybe I shouldn’t bring up the baby subject tonight. If I’d never felt what carrying a child felt like, I probably wouldn’t be in a such a hurry to start our family, but dammit, I want a few babies with ocher-colored eyes giggling and running wild while their daddy chases them around the yard, Sadie nipping at their feet.
I don’t need Rhys to commit to now, I just need him to commit to later.
One day soon-ish, I want to have my arms filled with a bundle of joy.
“We can talk. I can move our dinner plans around to another night, no big issue there. Would you like to order room service, be lazy, and eat in?”
“How did I end up married to the best guy in the world?” I ask while grasping for his hand on my shoulder.
“Eh, I don’t know about you, but I played the lottery and you were my prize. It’s the damnedest thing—I took my winning ticket in to the local Starbucks, and they told me I’d won the redheaded beauty in the corner. Since when did Starbucks quit issuing stars and start giving out lotto tickets?” Leaning down, he places a quick kiss on my cheek.
He’s such a smartass.
“Oh, ho, ho—you want to play the smartass this morning? Okay, I can play along. Wait and see buddy, wait and see.”
It’s an empty threat and we both know it. I’m only trying to keep the mood semi-light before boarding.
Leaning down again, he whispers into my ear, “I truly did win the lottery the day we found each other again. I love you, Tiger Lily.” As the last word leaves his lips, he gently nips my earlobe before righting himself to stand behind me again.
“Fine, okay, you won the lottery, but if you won, didn’t I win too? Since we both think highly of the other, I think it’s safe to say we both won.”
Thankfully o
ur flight starts boarding and we’re stopped from having to actually converse with Brant, or worse, having his foul mood rub off on any of us.
Happiness bubble still intact.
Our flight from Grand Rapids to Dallas went off without a hitch, but it wouldn’t be us if something didn’t go wrong.
Instead of letting us stay onboard while they refueled and picked up a few extra passengers in Dallas on their way to sunny Cancun, we were forced to disembark.
For seven hours.
The stop was originally planned for twenty-eight minutes—how in the hell did it turn into seven long hours?
Not one fucking clue.
None.
Zero.
Zilch.
To say I’m an angry airline passenger is an understatement. I’m hangry, worn out, bitchy, irritated, livid, and did I mention hangry? It’s been hours since any of us have had anything besides airline peanuts and if I don’t have something shortly, I’m going to go all Bruce Banner on their asses and Hulk out.
Rhys left nearly twenty minutes ago in search of any sort of food he could find, and I’m about two seconds away from calling Justin to see if he can scrounge up an FBI jet or something. I mean, that’s not going too far, right? If I explained to him that I was about to Hulk out, he’d probably be allowed access to a jet, right?
Keep dreaming, Averill, ya weirdo.
“Blackstar Airlines Flight 704 to Cancun will start boarding at gate 9A in fifteen minutes. I repeat, Blackstar Airlines Flight 704 to Cancun will start boarding at gate 9A in fifteen minutes.”
Brant is snoozing next to me, Tessa is reading on her Kindle, and I’m now standing up and dancing. I don’t care if I look like an idiot—being stuck in an airport for seven hours has strange effects on a person. Who cares if I’m the only person in this airport doing the sprinkler? I’m so damn happy to be leaving this place.
The laugh behind me can only belong to one person.
Rhys.
“You’re adorkable.”
Blushing at his words is the only response my body shows to hearing him. He lifts one of my hands and twirls me around before pulling me into his embrace.
“I brought food, lots and lots of food.”
“Yes! You are my savior. Food and we’re boarding—what more could a girl ask for?”
“Longer Kindle battery life,” Tessa says from her seat a few feet away from us.
“Sex every single day,” Brant chimes in from his seat.
Bunch of smartasses.
“I’d only ask for more time with you, Averill,” Rhys whispers in my ear.
“Puddle, floor—in case you needed to know what your words turned me into right now.” Snuggling farther into his embrace, I take a deep breath in, his intoxicating manly scent filling my senses.
Without letting me go, he juggles the bags I’m only now noticing over to one hand. Whatever is in them smells divine.
“What greasy goodness did you find me?”
“Cheeseburgers, fries, and onion rings, enough to go around. Brant, will you take the bags from me and split them up? We can eat on the plane since we’re going to start boarding in a few minutes. I’d divide it all up but I’m busy holding my precious wife.”
“No problem.” The words come out short and clipped. His attitude hasn’t improved much at all since leaving this morning; in fact, it’s only gotten worse.
Keeping my mouth shut is hard, but I do. Glancing up, I see the concern cross Rhys’ face. I know he wants to get to the bottom of what’s bothering his friend, but he won’t address it in public. Hopefully they can get the issue cleared up before it explodes; they’ve been friends for far too long to let something as silly as a surprise vacation come between them.
If that’s really the issue, I’ll suggest Brant pay us back. Maybe it’s as simple as the expense, but then again, who the frick knows?
Maybe it’s because Tessa is here and he feels like he’s getting pushed toward her…which he was, but I really am okay with them not ending up together. If they don’t make each other happy, they don’t make each other happy. As long as they find the person who does, I’m super.
By the time we make it to our resort, we’re all dead on our feet. The layover in Dallas took what energy we had out of our sails. After checking in, we say goodnight to Brant and Tessa and head off to our bungalow on the beach. The attendant leading us has plenty to say about the local color, filling us in on what to see and do while we’re here.
“Not to sound rude, but we’re on our honeymoon, so I doubt we’ll be doing much sightseeing other than mapping out new roads of pleasure on each other’s bodies,” Rhys says to the blushing young man.
He’s not the only one who’s blushing.
“Rhys,” I softly scold. “Stop it, please.”
The boy can’t be older than sixteen and by the way he’s blushing, I doubt he’s experienced in the ways Rhys is alluding to. Thankfully, my husband takes the unsubtle hint and drops the subject. The moment the boy unlocks our bungalow door, Rhys hands him a tip and he quickly vanishes from sight.
“I can’t believe you said those things to him, Rhys. He’s barely old enough to be working, and you rudely interrupted him while he was doing his job.”
“Baby, he lives in Mexico—the way of life here is different from ours. I’m sure he knows all about couples on their honeymoons and what happens between them. I was only doing him a favor, letting him know he didn’t need to continue to give us the normal spiel about what local places to check out while we’re here. I already know who I’ll be doing.”
“You’re incorrigible,” I say while laughing, not meaning it. He’s mine and I love every piece of him. The piece currently wanting to corrupt a young man? Yep, love it too.
“How about I order us a late dinner while you go relax by soaking in a nice bath, one I can join you in after I place our order.”
“Mm, sounds perfect to me.”
Maybe I can bring up the subject of children in the bathtub. We’ll both be relaxed, and it’s as fine a time as any to broach the subject. Without waiting another minute—or grabbing anything from my suitcase—I make my way into the bathroom. From what I’ve seen, our bungalow is absolutely beautiful. It’s all soft colors on the walls and chocolate-colored tile floors. The furniture and décor is all a Spanish-style motif, not exactly what I’d expect for a beach resort, but I guess it’s what an elegant upscale resort does.
It’s perfect for us to spend a week hiding away in. Other than eating, I don’t plan on coming up for air much.
I can’t contain my sigh of pleasure when I walk into the bathroom. There’s a sunken clawfoot tub, large enough for the both of us. It’s ivory in color but the way the light is hitting it, I swear there are gold flecks in the paint. It’s a tub straight from my dreams. The clawed feet are gold, and I’m willing to bet they’re original. This piece of art is pure perfection.
Choosing a bath bomb provided by the resort, I make myself busy getting our bath ready. The one I chose has a lovely citrus mint smell to it; hopefully Rhys won’t find it too girly. When he offered to order room service while I started the bath, I was all for it, though I’m not as hungry as I was while sitting in Dallas. Those greasy cheeseburgers did the trick to fill me up but if he wants more food, I’m not going to turn any down, especially if he orders some margaritas to celebrate finally arriving in paradise and toasting our marriage.
Rhys likes to spoil me, and I learned to live with it long ago. Protesting never worked, it only made him want to buy me more gifts. After a couple of months, I finally smartened up and started accepting them without complaint. It’s easier on both of us.
The day he brought home Sadie?
He may have been paid back in sexual favors.
Maybe.
Oh, who cares? He was totally paid back in sex for bringing home a tiny sweet puppy. When Rhys comes in to join me, I’ve only just sat down and released a long, pleasurable sigh. He knew exactly what I needed. Letting
the stress of travel seep off me and into the water feels…unbelievable.
“You appear to be comfy as fuck. Save enough room for me?”
Glancing over at him standing near the vanity, I see he still has all his clothes on, like he doesn’t think there’s enough space for the both of us, but I have no doubt there is. Who cares if a bit of water sloshes over the side? It’s only water—it’ll dry.
“There’s more than enough room for my sexy beast of a husband. Remember not to swallow the water though—we wouldn’t want to get sick before leaving for Italy.” With that, I wink at him.
“Sexy beast, you say?”
“Mmhm.” While he stays out of the water, staring at me, I decide to put on a show, tease him a bit. Lifting my arm up, I begin pooling some water in my hand, casually dropping it down over my breast while I cup another handful. I repeat this over and over again before he bends down—still fully clothed—and grabs my hands, halting my movements. Lamely, I drop my hands to my sides and let him stare, getting his fill of me.
“Are you just going to stare or are you actually going to get in and rinse off the travel before we move on to other more fun activities?”
“I planned on joining you, but you’ve been having fun all on your own, teasing me, testing my limits. If I join you now, I fear we may miss the room service—or worse, what if they have a key and they let themselves in to set it up? We’d both rather that not happen, correct?”
“To be honest, I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for you.” It’s the truth, but I also want to talk to him. I quickly add, “I do have something I’d like to talk to you about before we get distracted any further, so it may be a good thing if you don’t get in.”
Without saying another word, he leaves me alone in the bathroom to finish my relaxing soak. When I hear the knock on the door a few minutes later, alerting me to the arrival of our food, I pull the drain on the tub, quickly dry off, and toss on the provided bathrobe. When I walk out into the main living area, Rhys is setting up several plates with silver domes placed over them on the dining table.