Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I growl. “This will be the longest plane ride of my life.”
“You could’ve waited and had this conversation with me at the resort. You chose this.”
You’re right. I did, and I’m not sorry.
“Whatever you say, Birdie.”
“You’re pushing it already,” she says.
She thinks I’m pushing it now? I laugh. Just wait, Miss Thompson. This will be a honeymoon that you’ll never forget.
TWELVE
Ashley
I didn’t know that I could play it this cool.
Sara would be so proud.
Maddox sits beside me on the back seat of a golf cart and listens to Otis, our chauffeur, explain things we’ll probably need to know about the resort. I’m glad he’s paying attention. I’m not.
There’s been a current moving dangerously just below the surface since our plane landed. It’s taking everything in me not to cause a scene every time Maddox looks at me—because he doesn’t just look at me anymore.
He sees me. He undresses me with his eyes unabashedly. He promises me things without saying a word.
Each touch lingers. Every smile is solely for me. Somehow, in the middle of the busy airport, in the van to The Royal Paloma, in the reception area bustling with guests—Maddox has made it feel like it’s just me and him. Even as Otis goes in-depth about the available excursions and Maddox’s attention appears to be centered on the information, his palm lies heavily on my thigh.
I shiver.
While Maddox chats with Otis on our way to our suite, I slip my phone out of my bag.
Me: We will be discussing this when I return.
Their responses come without delay.
Sara: YOU ARE DAMN RIGHT WE WILL
Rebecca: I’ll let you in the house long enough to give me all the details.
Rebecca: If you give me enough, I might let you stay.
Sara:
I laugh. Maddox looks over his shoulder and smiles. He’s so handsome.
Me: We’re almost to the suite. I’ll text you later.
Sara: ENJOY.
Rebecca: How can she not?
Sara: Excellent point.
Me: I’m still here.
Rebecca: That’s your fault. Turn the phone off and go.
Sara:
Rebecca:
Me:
I turn off the ringer and slip my phone back into my bag.
The champagne in my flute, given to us by Otis before we loaded up at the resort to be delivered to our suite, sloshes back and forth. It reminds me of the state of my stomach—turbulent and energized, yet bubbly in its own way. Even after agreeing to this arrangement with Maddox, I’m at ease.
I lean my head back against the headrest. The warm breeze tosses my hair playfully, and the smooth hum of the golf cart is relaxing. Maddox’s voice from beside me—warm and strong—is the icing on the cake.
This is the most content that I’ve been in a very, very long time.
I’m so glad I didn’t tell him to book a flight home—because I almost did. Panic had taken over and the fear of making the wrong step, of the potential regret of doing what I wanted, was starting to overtake me. And what I truly wanted was Maddox.
You have to make an exit before you make an entrance.
As I sat on the plane and looked at the man who was telling me exactly what I wanted to hear—and meaning it—I realized that if I told him to go home, I would be living the exact same life I was before I got on the plane. Nothing would change. And I still wouldn’t be living my best life.
Wasn’t that what leaving Eton was about? Living my best life?
Repeatedly cracking the same eggs, and choosing the same kind of man, isn’t giving me a different omelet, or one with a happy ending. Pun intended.
Sure, the happy ending in this scenario won’t be a happily ever after, but I’m not even shooting for that here. I’m shooting for temporary happiness. It’s better than always being suspended somewhere between joyful and miserable. It’s a decision and one that I can live with.
Especially with Mad.
“Do you have any questions, Miss Ashley?” Otis asks.
“No. You’ve done an amazing job explaining things. Thank you.”
“You weren’t even listening,” Maddox whispers in my ear. The stretch of skin at the back of my neck tingles. It sends a shot of heat straight to my core. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?”
Your hands in my hair. Your tongue lashing at my clit. Your cock pounding—
“Ash?”
I flush. I’m in so much trouble. “I’ll let you use your imagination.”
He chuckles as I turn away and try to appear engrossed in the beautiful landscaping and crystal-clear sky.
If this is a dream, let me sleep.
“Here we are,” Otis says, stopping the cart in front of a beautiful small house. “Welcome to your suite.”
Wow.
The one-bedroom structure is both impressive and quaint. Tall palms sway on either side like guards to paradise, their fronds fluttering beautifully in the breeze.