“Let him know that, then,” Winston suggests. “We can arrange a meeting when you get back. I think you two should meet.”
I’m worried if I come face to face with that prick, I’ll do something I’d regret—and end up in jail. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“What else do you suggest? Listen, confronting him is the best way to get your intent across. Let him know he needs to back the fuck off. Imply what you might do if he gets too close.”
I consider Winston’s words, imagining a meeting with McPervert and what I might say to him. How he might react. What I’ll have to do if he gives me any shit, which he probably will. It could destroy the tenuous peace between our families. And the tenuous peace in my new marriage. “I don’t know.”
“Think about it. It’s the right move,” Winston says with confidence.
“I’ll figure it out when we get back home.”
“I wouldn’t wait too long if I were you.” Winston pauses, changing the subject. “Enjoying your honeymoon?”
“It’s been all right.”
“The way you say it makes me think you’re not getting any pussy.”
Irritation blooms in my chest. “Don’t talk about my wife like that.”
Now my dickish brother is full-on laughing. “That tells me you’re getting plenty of pussy. Have fun, little brother.”
He ends the call before I can say anything else.
I drop my phone on the dresser and thrust both hands in my hair, gripping the back of my head as I glare at my reflection. I’m not handling this well. My conflicting emotions are all over the place and I can’t get them under control. The woman is driving me out of my mind.
I like her. I don’t.
I hate her. I don’t.
I laugh with her. I want to wrap my hand around her throat.
I want to crush her.
I want to fuck her.
I just…
I want her.
Dropping my arms, I slip on a brand-new pair of Gucci slides that were packed in my luggage and head back outside to the pool, stopping short when I see that my wife had the same idea. She’s stretched out on a lounger, her skin gleaming in the sun, giant sunglasses covering her eyes.
And that’s the only thing she’s wearing.
Shock courses through me as I continue to stare, taking in her luscious body I was fucking not even a half hour ago. Her entire body is on complete display and I don’t know where to look first. She’s got one knee bent, her foot flat on the cushion. Her long legs and pretty feet with the pale pink–painted toenails. Her breasts and the rosy-pink nipples. The flat curve of her stomach.
I scrub my hand along my jaw back and forth, telling myself to calm down. I can’t do anything.
“I can feel you staring,” she calls, her lips barely moving. Hell, her body doesn’t even move.
I drop my hand and rest both of them on my hips. “Pretty sure that’s what you want.”
“Actually, I wanted no tan lines.”
“You put sunscreen on.”
“No. Suntan oil.”
“You’ll burn.”