What a way to go, though, I thought, making myself laugh out loud. Handily, that was when my beautiful wife chose to make her appearance on the balcony, and her answering smile was worth more than the weight of my entire fortune in gold.
“Something got you in a good mood, Mr. Brooks?”
I beamed up at her. “Baby, I’m in Cabo with my beautiful wife. A good mood is a constant.”
She was dressed in sandals and a simple white sundress, the vision of her made my brain short-circuit, dumping my thoughts right back into the bottomless pit of fantasies I’d barely chipped away at this morning.
You’re hopeless, dude. Fucking hopeless.
My brain wasn’t lying. I was hopelessly fucking in loveand infatuation and in lustwith my wife. As if my hand had a mind of its own, I reached out and slid my fingers up her thigh. Maybe if I convinced her just right, she’d let me take her back to bed for a little while before we went to eat.
“Kline Brooks!” She slapped me away on a giggle, squealing and jumping back a step. “You’re insane!”
“Insane for you.” I smirked up at her. “And you can hardly blame me for going on an exploratory mission to find out what you have on under that dress. I’m detail-driven—analytical—you know that about me. I’d even wager to say it’s something you love about me.”
She shook her head, pursing her lips in faux contemplation and tapping a finger on her chin. “Let’s see. If I tell you—thus ending your quest for an answer—do you promise to take me downstairs to eat without delay?”
Desperate, I nodded like a little wooden marionette. “Of course, my love.”
She hummed then, turning on her toe and spinning away before glancing back at me over her shoulder and popping her eyebrows coquettishly.
“Nothing.”
Nothing?My jaw went unhinged. Surely, I misheard her. I must have passed out in the middle of a fantasy. Because the idea of my sweet, innocent wifebarebeneath her dress—
“You heard me right.” A coy little grin quirked up the corners of her lips as she read my mind. “I’m not wearing anything underneath this dress, but the only way you’re ever going to see for yourself is to actually feed me something first. You promised.”
“Georgie, you just told me you’re not wearing any panties. How could you be hungry at a time like this?”
“Seriously, Kline?” She snorted and stomped one foot to the ground. “You just fucked me for, like, four hours! I need sustenance!”
“Ifuckedyou for four hours?” I repeated her words, picking my ass up off the seat of my chair and stalking toward her. “Benny, that mouth of yours has gotten seriously dirty.”
“And it’s all your fault,” she retorted back, jumping away from my groping hands and smacking at my wrists. “You’ve turned me into a sex-crazed, orgasm-craving, foulmouthed, scandalized harlot. I am the Wheorgie Cassie has always wanted me to be.”
Her words spurred a chuckle from my lungs. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, your dirty mouth and my endless stamina are the best things we’ve got going for us on this trip so far.”
She laughed. “Well, that, I agree with. It’s almost enough to make me count last night as a fluke.”
“Really?” I asked hopefully. “You’ll be my official valentine?”
“I saidalmost.”
I pouted, and she giggled. “I tell you what… You take me downstairs and feed me, and I’ll come back up here and feedyou.” My dick jerked in my pants. “And if you use your tongue the way I really like, I just might be inclined to give in.” She winked, and I had to grab my chest to keep from fainting. Goddamn, this woman was definitely going to put me in an early grave.
Here lies Kline Brooks, husband, entrepreneur, and beloved friend. Don’t be sad. He died from fucking.
“As always, your wish is my command.” Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I placed a swift kiss to the love of my life’s lips and wrapped one arm around her waist, leading us back into our suite and toward the front door.
Hand to the doorknob, I twisted it open, holding it back for Georgia to walk on through, but she froze at the threshold, eyes wide as she looked toward the hallway.
I followed her gaze, and when I noted not one, not two, but three men in sombreros holding instruments in their hands, my smile melted like an ice cube on a New York summer sidewalk.
“Hola, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks!” the man with the guitar greeted us through a cheerful bellow. “Today, it will be our pleasure to serenade you!”
What? No.
“I don’t think—”