Bora Bora, Wednesday, April 19th
It had been two days since we’d arrived at our tropical honeymoon destination, and I was certain, if given the option, I would have stayed right there forever. Just Georgia and me and nothing but an infinite amount of time to relax in the sun and celebrate the smartest, most brilliant thing I had ever done—marrying her.
Graduating Harvard, starting Brooks Media, developing an app called TapNext that skyrocketed my net worth into the billions—none of them even came close to outshining landing Georgia Brooks, née Cummings. In fact, I wasn’t a fortune-teller, and I wanted nothing to do with looking into a stranger’s crystal ball, but if I were into that sort of thing, I would guarantee, no matter the things life had planned for me, she wouldalwaysbe the best thing that had ever happened to me.
My Georgie wasthatkind of woman—the kind you worked to appreciate until it killed you.
My face ached a little from a permasmile as I leaned back into the support of my chair and sighed. The sound of waves gently crashing against the sand filled my ears, while the sun’s rays bounced off the water, creating a shimmery glow of aqua blue. But no matter how splendid the view created by nature, I was fixated on an object of even greater beauty—blond hair, tanned, sun-kissed skin, and petite features in the best, fun-loving, smile-inducing package—sprawled out on a giant beach towel the resort concierge kindly set up for us.
I sat up on my elbows to take in the delectable view—mywifein a hot-pink bikini—and the smile that consumed my lips was so big, I could feel it throbbing in the back of my head.
Is it obvious that I’m a man who’s completely and utterly in love with his wife?
Truthfully, every time I even think about her, my heart skips a fucking beat.
Georgie was laid out on her belly, her head resting to the side and her long eyelashes fawning across her cheeks. Miles upon miles of her gorgeous skin was all I could see.
I had no idea what time of day it was—hell, I didn’t even knowwhatday it was.
All I knew was that if there were a real-life version of heaven, I’d be fucking living it right now.
I took my time soaking up the tempting view. My gaze started at her cute feet and worked its way up her svelte legs, over her perfect fucking ass that wassadlycovered up by bright, cheerful fabric, and I didn’t stop until I noted the slight hints of pink-tinged skin on her shoulders.
“You’re gonna burn, baby,” I said softly, reaching out to rub a helpful, possibly unnecessary hand on her bum. She peeked out of one eye to meet my gaze. “Your shoulders,” I elucidated, nodding toward them. “They’re looking a little red.”
Sleepy blue eyes stared back at me, but the owner of said eyes made no move to remedy her sunburn situation. I wasn’t sure if she was sun-drunk or obstinate, but I loved when she looked at me like that. “But I put sunscreen on before we came out here this morning.”
I smiled. Pig-headed, it was.
“Baby, that was nearly four hours ago.” I smirked down at her. “I know you’d like the action of dousing with sunscreen to be an infinite principle, but the laws of physical scienceandchemistry say it’s time to reapply.”
“I’m too comfortable to be convinced by all your smart-talking logic, Mr. Brooks.” She pouted. “Any type of movement,even just lifting a finger, sounds like a horrible idea right now.”
I chuckled at that. “So, what should we do about it?”
She frowned, turning over just enough to present her breasts to me like a platter of fruity delights. If it weren’t for the time I’d spent learning about all the things that made Georgia tick, I might have been sucked into the trap. “I don’t know. It seems we’re at a stalemate. An impasse. An impossible threshold to the unknown.”
“Really?” I challenged as she pursed her cute pink lips. “That little pout isn’t your cutesy way of trying to get me to do it for you?”
Her eyebrows bounced with one quick waggle. I wasn’t even sure I was supposed to notice it, but when it came to my wife, there wasn’t much that passed me by. “That depends.”
“On what?”
A little smile creased her lips at the corners, biting into the otherwise flawless elasticity of her complexion. It was one of my favorites of her smiles, so at odds with her do-gooder personality. It made her look like she had a nefarious secret. “Is it working?”
“Don’t act so coy, Benny.” I winked and reached out to brush a loose strand of her blond hair out of her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ear. “You and I both already know that little pout of yours—fake or not—could get me to do anything. Frankly, I’m kind of hoping it’s asking me to do more than rub sunscreen. The naughtier, the better.”
Her giggle tinkled loudly enough for bystanders to hear, but I only had eyes for her as I lifted an eyebrow, hopeful it put me ahead in my race to get between her thighs by using the power of suggestion.
Having fun with our game now, Georgia let her coquettish smile turn devious. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
I feigned a beleaguered sigh. “It’s a tough job, but I guess this is what husbands do for their wives, huh?”
“If they’re smart.” Georgie asserted with a nod and a grin.
I had been called a lot of things in my nearly thirty-five years of life, but shamelessly dumb wasn’t one of them.
“All hail, Queen Georgie. Ruler of the beach and commander of sunscreen application,” I teased, and she snorted, waving a hand and sitting up on her towel like Queen Elizabeth on her way to a palace gala. All that bullshit about not wanting to move a muscle disappeared as soon as she got the royal title. I mean, it made sense. Fame, as it were, changed people.