The guy doesn’t work that fast and it’s a Sunday. Winston probably won’t launch into his investigation until first thing Monday morning, which is fine. I need to chill.
But damn it, I want to know what’s up with that guy. Why did he show up at my reception? Does he actually want Charlotte?
Tough shit, he can’t have her.
Memories of last night pop into my brain as I take a cool shower and I revel in them for a moment. The sounds Charlotte made when I fucked her with my fingers. How responsive she is, even when I’m mean. And I’m never mean.
I used to be the good time guy. Both in person and privately. I’m easygoing, even in bed. Especially in bed.
First night with Charlotte and I lose all control. Second night? I act like a complete macho dick, and wouldn’t you know, my little wifey gets off on it.
Who fucking knew?
I made a reservation at one of the restaurants in the resort and I take my time getting ready since we’re still an hour away from having to show up. I think about shaving but worry what that razor will feel like on my sunburned skin, so I take a pass. Instead, I try to get my hair to cooperate before I slip on a pair of black trousers and a white dress shirt. My usual outfit of choice. I put on a silver chain around my neck and a bunch of rings, not giving a fuck what anyone might think about me. Not even Charlotte.
She never said she minded the rings. And I’m wearing my wedding ring too, so that should please her, right?
By the time I’m leaving my bedroom in search of her, I’m jumpy. Anxious. Starving. I need food and alcohol, stat.
I find Charlotte sitting outside on her phone, the gentle breeze causing her hair to fly across her face. She keeps batting it away, her gaze on her screen, never noticing that I came outside and now I feel like a stalker.
But damn, she’s pretty in the strapless black dress she’s wearing, her pinkish golden sunburn on complete display. She’s got a thin gold necklace around her neck and thin gold hoops in her ears, my ring twinkling on her left ring finger. Her nose is red from the sun and her lips are painted a pretty coral color. She glances up at the same time I shove my hands into my pockets and she does a double take when she sees me standing there.
“I didn’t hear you come outside.” She sets her phone on the table in front of her.
“Everything all right?” I flick my chin at her phone, the screen going black before I can catch what she was doing on it.
Charlotte’s brows draw together. “Yes.”
“Who were you texting?” I sound like a jealous prick, but I can’t help it. I don’t want her texting anyone. Not a single soul.
Especially not that dickbag.
“I was scrolling Instagram. I looked up the hashtag for this resort and was checking out the photos.” Her smile is faint, and I refuse to react to it.
“You almost ready?” I ask, my voice rough.
She nods and checks her phone yet again. “We still have twenty minutes.”
“They might seat us early. Plus, I’m starving.” I flick my head. “Let’s go. We can always sit in the bar and wait for our table. Have a drink.”
“I’m not twenty-one yet,” she reminds me, her voice soft.
I keep forgetting she’s younger than me. She doesn’t act like it. Well, sometimes she does.
Never in bed though.
“No one will card you,” I reassure her. “And I’ll order drinks for us.”
“Okay.” She pushes her chair back and rises to her feet before she makes her way over to me. I realize she’s not wearing a dress at all but a strapless black jumpsuit thing that’s all one piece.
And she looks hot as hell.
I run a hand over my mouth to smother whatever I was about to say to her, unable to tear my gaze away from her chest. The top clings to her tits perfectly, giving me a nice view of her cleavage. The sides and back of her jumpsuit has cutouts, exposing even more skin and I’m fairly certain my wife isn’t wearing a bra.
Fuck me.
“You ready to go, then?” she asks once she stops directly in front of me.