by Alane Hudson
“Thanks,” he replied. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a big deal,” the woman said, gathering her belongings. “I don’t understand why anyone would be so big a jerk that he wouldn’t let newlyweds sit together. Is this your honeymoon?”
“It is,” Blake said. “We really appreciate it.”
Andrea stepped past the man sitting in the seat Blake had vacated, struggling with her bag to get around his knees without stepping on his feet.
“The gentlemanly thing to do would be to stand up for the lady,” Blake said.
“Hey, screw you,” the man shot back.
“Classy. Do you really want to sit next to that guy?” Blake asked the woman. “I can switch with my bride instead, and you two can sit together.”
“I’m not afraid of small men,” the woman said, patting Blake’s arm as she slipped past. “Sit with your lady.”
Once everyone was situated, buckled up with their tray tables properly stowed, the plane started off for Hawaii. When they reached their cruising altitude, the flight crew began beverage service, and offered the passengers in the first class cabin free champagne to toast the newlyweds. Everyone partook, even the scowler in two-D, though he sipped quietly without offering congratulations or a handshake like everyone else did.
Chapter 8
It was 8:50pm local time when they touched down in Honolulu, and a quarter to ten by the time they got to the hotel. The travel service had rescheduled everything perfectly so that not only was the limo driver waiting with a placard that read Mr. & Mrs. Thomas, but the hotel had their suite ready too. Though it was almost midnight California time when they checked in, Blake wasn’t ready for sleep. Not by a long shot.
The bellhop delivered their luggage to the suite, and a middle-aged man in a stylish, black suit dismissed the bellhop with a nod. “As your valet, I’ll be dedicated to attending to your needs during your stay. The telephones in the room ring directly to my cell phone. If for some reason I don’t answer, you’ll automatically be connected to our concierge.”
The valet gave them a tour of the suite and its amenities, which included a private pool and lovely outdoor patio, butler service, a personal chef to cook their meals in the suite’s exquisite kitchen, and even a violinist or pianist at their beck and call.
Andrea could hardly believe she was staying in what had to be the most lavish hotel room ever conceived. It had a spacious living room with an admirably stocked bar, a powder room, and a recreation room with a pool table. The bedroom had a king-sized, top-of-the-line adjustable bed covered by red and gold bedspread adorned with red rose petals. One bedroom, one bed, two people. She began to warm, thinking about spooning with Blake on that bed. And more.
The adjoining bathroom styled in black marble with red and gold accents had a heated tile floor and towel rack, a separate room for the toilet and bidet, and a roomy shower stall with two showerheads on opposite walls. An image came to Andrea’s mind of the two of them naked and wet under the showerheads while steam filled the stall. If he washed her back, she would wash his. And more, much more. She swallowed hard and shook her head to jar the image loose.
The private hot tub captivated her the most, situated in front of a huge window that overlooked the beach. The valet assured them the glass was mirrored on the outside and perfectly private in all lighting conditions, but if they were more comfortable, a button on the wall opened and closed the floor-to-ceiling drapes.
“I’ll leave you to get settled for the night,” the valet said. Blake offered him a tip, but he politely declined. “Gratuities are included in the room rate, allowing you to spend your vacation enjoying your stay without the worry of carrying cash. If you have valuables to store, there’s a safe in the bedroom closet, or I’ll be happy to put them in the hotel’s vault, if you prefer. I’m a phone call away if you need anything at all.” With a bow, the valet left.
Andrea slipped off one shoe to test the water. It was warm and inviting. She could definitely get used to this lifestyle. “We should try this,” she said.
Blake laughed as he walked up to her. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “We’ll definitely make good use of it. What do you say we take a walk on the beach under the stars?”
Andrea couldn’t imagine a better idea. “That sounds wonderful.” There was something intensely arousing about being alone with him in a hotel room. Going out in public would help her get her head—and her body—back into a less sensual place. Now that they were an ocean away from Harold and Gloria, there was no need to keep up the pretense that they were in love. They were now just two people sharing a vacation.
And a bed.
“Let me just use the bathroom real quick, and I’ll be ready.”
He nodded and left her alone.
After closing and locking the door, she pressed one hand against it and the other against her chest. Her heart was like a jackhammer, pumping desire-fueled blood to every part of her body. And she’d thought the wedding would be the hard part. No, Blake has the hard part, she thought with a giggle. No, no. I have to stop thinking of him like that. He’s not my husband.
Was Blake thinking about her that way? Surely he must be. He’d said she was gorgeous, but she’d also set the boundaries the day they met. That was before they’d spent three full days together getting to know one another. That was before they’d had a lovely wedding in which they pretended to get married. That was before she realized how much she liked him.
“Babe, everything okay?” he asked near the door.
“Almost ready.” She flushed and washed her hands, then checked her breath in her cupped hand. In a basket on the counter was a small bottle of Scope, so she swished some and spit it out. With one last check in the mirror, she noted that her hair still looked pretty, though the curls had fallen about halfway out. She found him in the living room, gazing out the sliding glass door onto the pool and patio.
“The wall around the pool is tall enough that nobody could see in,” he said.
“So it would still be private if someone didn’t bring a bathing suit?” She joined him by the door and started to slip her hand into his, stopping herself when she remembered she no longer needed to act the part of Sarah.
Blake smiled down at her with a sideways, lusty grin. “Didn’t you?”
“Oh, I did.”
“Rats.” He chuckled. “You do swim, don’t you?”
“Sure, I swim. I love the water.”
“Good. Shall we?”
The night was mild without being hot, and this far from downtown Honolulu, the sky was dark and the stars brilliant overhead. The smell of the salt air was strong but pleasant, and the gentle, rhythmic rush of the waves provided a kind of music that completed the scene. They walked side by side without touching along the sand, wearing rubber flip-flops and marveling at the beauty around them, despite not being able to see much of it. And there was no one else she’d rather be there with.
“I can’t thank you enough for being my wife today,” he said. “You made a breathtakingly beautiful bride. Everything was perfect.”
“You’re not mad I took your ugly ring back?”
He snorted. “Actually, I’m glad you did, not because the lion’s head was the wrong ring but because I made an emotional decision, not a rational one. This marriage is a business arrangement, nothing more. I just didn’t want you to go through the trouble of correcting my mistake.”
“Sarah would’ve wanted you to have the platinum one.”
“No, Sarah didn’t give a damn what ring I wore. You wanted me to have the platinum. You picked it out. You put it on my finger. That’s why I like it.”
Andrea smiled. If only things had been different, she and Blake... no. He’d never have dated someone like her. It took a bizarre circumstance for the two of them to even meet. “Listen, now that the wedding is over, now that we’re two thousand miles from home, we don’t need to pretend to be a couple anymore.” Even as she said the words, she didn’t want them to be
true. No, that wasn’t quite it. She wanted to be a couple without the pretense. “But I have a confession to make,” she said.
“Another one? Let me guess. You’re not really Andrea, and you’re playing the part of a woman playing the part of my bride?”
A giggle bubbled up her throat. She slipped her hand into his, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t. “No, silly. I like you. I don’t mind pretending we’re actually on a honeymoon.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “I like you too. A lot. And we are on a honeymoon, just not yours and mine.”
“What boggles my mind is that we’ve only known each other for four days. I feel like it’s been a lot longer than that.”
“Maybe it’s only been four actual days, but when you count the hours, it’s been three virtual months.”
She laughed. “What?”
“Think of it this way: we’ve spent about forty hours together in that four days, right? More or less?”
She counted the hours quickly in her head: fourteen hours on Wednesday, twelve on Thursday, ten on Friday, and about six so far today. “Okay...”
“The average date consists of dinner and some kind of event like a movie, play, concert, or sporting event, and most of that time is spent paying attention to something else and not getting to know each other. Let’s say each date consists of one to two hours of quality, get-to-know-you time, and we go out twice a week. That’s like twelve or thirteen weeks’ worth of dates.”
“Dating math. I like it.”
He kicked the sand as they strolled. After a moment, he said, “Speaking of dating, Joe is pretty eager to ask you out when we get back.”
Andrea looked down at her feet. “You won’t mind?”
“Are you kidding? I can’t conceive of a greater torture. I’ll be with my real wife, who won’t let me touch her, while I watch my cousin hold you in his arms. Yeah, that’s going to be agony.”
Andrea liked Joe. She just wasn’t sure she could date him without constantly thinking of Blake, wondering when she’d run into him. Going on double dates with him and Sarah would be out of the question. Worse than that, though, was the idea of never seeing Blake again. A lump formed in her throat, and tears stung her eyes. “I know we’ll have to say goodbye in a couple of weeks, but I don’t want to think about that yet. I don’t want to sour my time with you by imagining going back to my old life.”
He stopped and faced her. “You’re right. Let’s have fun and enjoy the hell out of the next two weeks. No more talk about the G word.”
His expression, so earnest and filled with passion, moved her. She was ready to let go of her reservations, her fear, and give herself up to him. Forget that he was someone else’s husband now. She wanted nothing more than to make love to him right there on the beach with the ocean waves kissing their feet. Did he know that Sarah had given them permission to become intimate? “Sarah said it was okay if we wanted to... you know.”
“Yeah, I know, but you made it pretty clear a few days ago—”
“True, but it’s your wedding night after all.” Our wedding night.
“Are you saying you’ll take pity on me?”
“No, I’m saying...” She licked her lips while gazing at his mouth, chin lifted and ready for his kiss. That’s your cue, Blake.
He bent his head but didn’t kiss her. Instead, he hovered his lips over hers, a fraction of an inch away. “You’re saying... what?”
With his gentle breath on her lips, she could all but taste him. Oh, how she hungered for his mouth, his touch, his body. “I want you.”
He kissed her with those perfect lips, so warm and tender. Andrea pressed her body against him, encircling his waist with her free arm. A moan escaped his lips, and his kiss intensified. His tongue teased her lips, urging her to spread them wider, to let him in, and she did.
Something scratchy ran over her foot, and she jerked in surprise and cried out.
“What?” Blake asked, alarmed.
“Something touched my foot.”
They scanned the sand around them. “Look,” Blake said. “A crab. Should we take him back to the room and cook him up?”
“No,” Andrea said, laughing. “He didn’t pinch me or anything.”
Blake followed the critter down the beach, teasing it by tossing sand at it with his foot. “Yeah, but I love crab legs. I’m getting hungry just looking at him.”
“I doubt he’ll come willingly. Let’s just leave him be.” She was more interested in being back in his arms.
“I’ll carry him in my shirt.” Blake pulled his shirt off, giving Andrea her first look at his naked torso.
She swallowed hard, not realizing until then how muscular he was, how ripped. The way the moonlight played across the curving bulges of his muscles sent a tremor through her body. He’d mentioned that he owned a chain of personal training facilities, and while he did have broad shoulders and thick arms, she hadn’t realized she’d find The Hulk under his clothes. He bent over and tried to scoop the crab into his shirt.
Andrea pressed her lips together and put her hands on her hips. She didn’t want the stupid crab. She just wanted to get back to the room and help Blake’s celebrate his wedding night. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “If you can pick him up with your bare hands and put him in your shirt without getting pinched, I’ll help you eat him. If he pinches you, we leave him alone.”
“All right,” he said, glancing up at her. He laid the shirt neatly on the sand and got into position behind the crab. It crawled surprisingly fast, going around the shirt and turning sideways to keep an eye on the giant predator stalking it. Blake looked like a linebacker shuffling across the sand, bent at the waist with his arms outstretched, ready to grab it. “Bring my shirt, will you?”
She picked it up and followed him. With a sudden movement, he scooped up the crab in both hands. “Got him.” The creature snipped and snapped, claws reaching for him. “Whoa. Toss me the shirt.”
She tried to toss it, but it fluttered to the sand, which gave her the idea to wet it down. She ran into the shallow waves and dunked it under the water, all the while laughing at Blake trying to escape the crab’s pincers without letting it go. “Hurry,” he said. “Give it to me.”
Feeling playful, she balled up his sopping wet shirt and threw it, hitting him in the chest. He looked up at her in surprise, and the crab got hold of him. Andrea burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her now salty, wet hands.
“Ow. Shit. Ow.” He let go of the crab’s body to pry the pincer off the skin of his forearm, and then let it fall to the sand. It skittered away. He looked up at her with dark intent. “So that’s how you want to play this?”
Uh oh. Andrea lifted her skirt and ran back toward the hotel, laughing. She heard his feet pounding the sand behind her, his breath getting closer, his promise to make her sorry. Before she knew it, he had hold of her arm and was pulling her to a stop. She found herself against his chest and laughed up into his smiling face, but his smile wasn’t sweet or teasing or sensual. It was wicked. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the water.
“Blake, no. Don’t. I’m sorry.” She tried to sound like she was pleading, but she couldn’t keep her laughter from bubbling through. “Don’t throw me in. My dress—Sarah’s dress—it’ll be ruined.”
“I’ll buy her a new one.” His eyes glittered in the moonlight. Instead of throwing her into the small waves like she expected, he waded out into water that swelled and dipped, wetting first the skirt of her dress where it draped, then her butt and feet. She clung to him. “Blake, don’t let me go.”
“Oh, no.” He continued to wade deeper. “I have something else in mind for you.”
The water covered her hips and swelled to her shoulders. Andrea gasped. “It’s cold!”
He laughed. “Now we’re even.”
“We are not even,” she said, squirming out of his arms. Her feet landed on the sandy floor of the shallow ocean waters.
“Mmm,�
� he said, pulling her back against him. “You’re right. A kiss would make us even.”
She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders and her legs around his waist, and kissed him. When a wave swell lifted them up and carried them closer to shore, he backpedaled through the water while they kissed to keep them both mostly submerged. A wave, larger than the others, hit Andrea in the head from behind, pushing her harder into Blake. He lost his balance and fell backward, going completely under the water, and Andrea followed, reflexively letting him go. Before she knew what was happening, she was pawing the water in front of her, trying to right herself. Blake’s hands gripped her arms and pulled her up so she could get her head above water. Then she was able to get her feet under her.
He was behind her. “Are you okay?”
She faced him, laughing and sputtering salt water, while she brushed her wet hair back out of her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Let’s go dry off.” He scooped her up again and waded back to the beach, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Then he set her on the sand and lay down with her, his long body stretched out beside and partially on top of hers. There was no mistaking his erection, pressed against the top of her thigh.
His tongue slipped into her mouth and tickled her own, stroking it while he sucked gently. The warmth of his hand moved from her thigh, up along her hip and waist to the swell of her breast, cupping it so gently, she could barely feel his touch. Something, maybe his thumb, brushed her nipple through the wet fabric of her dress, creating an insane desire to feel his hand squeeze and stroke her. She shifted, lifting her body into his hand while she moaned into his mouth. Her left leg, almost of its own volition, curled around his right to pull his body closer. She longed to feel the hard bulge between his legs nestled between hers.
The sound of laughter invaded Andrea’s lusty thoughts. People walked along the beach toward them, a family with children. Her modesty asserted itself at the same time Blake’s did.