Page 52

Lexi

The Atlantic breeze is thick with salt and the promise of a heat that has nothing to do with the Virginia sun. We’re in Chincoteague, a honeymoon gift from Sebastian that feels more like a test of my sanity.

I’d planned to enjoy our trip by taking long walks, meditating in the sun, searching for wild horses, and delighting in some rare self care. Instead, I’m glued to the side of the most exasperating man on the planet.

Sebastian had rented a cute little one-bedroom bungalow for our stay. We’d agreed the very least Sam could do was sleep on the couch in the living room while we were here. Until the private chef arrived, announcing she’d have breakfast waiting for us in the kitchen each morning.

So much for that.

I was so exhausted after the wedding, the almost four-hour drive, and several glasses of wine, that I managed to fall asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow last night. I spent our first night as husband and wife in the bed alone, having banished Sam to the floor with the extra blankets and pillows. He didn’t put up a fight, but it wouldn’t be fair to force this for the full week we’re here.

Unless he steps on my last nerve. Then all bets are off.

So now I’m drinking my weight in wine to deal with the thought of lying next to him all night. I’m stretched out on a lounge chair, the sand glistening like crushed diamonds under a sky so blue it looks like a work of art. To anyone observing, we’re the picture of newlywed bliss. I’m wearing a turquoise bikini that felt much more modest in the boutique than it does under Sam’s perusal. I try to drown my thoughts with the rhythmic crash of the waves, but all I can focus on is the proximity of my new husband. My bronzed, muscular, shirtless husband.

You hate him, remember, you sex-starved harlot.

It’s a delicious torture. I’ve spent years perfecting a clinical detachment, but seeing Sam’s body on display is stripping away my defenses faster than an anesthetic. He’s lying a few feet away, his chest rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Tiny beads of water glisten on his tan skin and the inky black curls atop his head. He has dark chest hair that disappears into his swim trunks, taking my mind to places it has no business going.

We’ve both had a bit too much to drink in the sun. The chilled wine is blurring the lines between the contract we signed and the history we’re trying to outrun. The air between us is vibrating with tension. Okay, at least in my direction. It’s causing me to quiver from the current radiating from his body. The heat and the wine threaten to pull me under. My eyelids grow heavy, the sound of the ocean fading into a hum.

“I think the sun and the wine are catching up with me. I’m going to head in and lie down.” Pushing to stand from my seat, I jolt in surprise when Sam does the same. “What are you doing?” There’s no hiding my frustration in my current state.

“Joining you.”

“Why?” I snap.

“Same reason you’re headed in.” I start to object when he steps closer. The scent of coconut sunscreen and summer sun is wafting off of his chest and washboard abs. I don’t know if it’s the heat or his nearly naked presence that is frying my brain. My eyes drop down to take in the light dusting of dark hair over his pecs that travels lower, a thin happy trail disappearing lower still.

Cheese on a cracker. Knock it off, you drunk, overheated tart.

He leans in, and a gasp catches in my throat. “It appears that Sarafina has returned to the house.”

Looking over my shoulder, I find that our personal chef has in fact returned. Jeez, that’s some timing. But I can barely keep my eyes open. Good lord. What was I thinking with this? I really should’ve saved that bottle of wine for dinner.

Gathering my few belongings, I head back to the house, deciding to make the best of it. I’m so sleepy I’ll likely be unconscious in no time flat. So he can do whatever he wants, and I won’t be bothered. Heck, if this goes well, I’ll just have to stay liquored up the entire trip, and I’ll be fine.

Forget the trip. More like the entire marriage.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Lee.”

I stumble at the welcome. Probably more at the use of Mrs. Lee than the bottle of wine and unrelenting sun.

Sam cups my elbow, trying to steady me. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” I have to remind myself not to smack him, given Sarafina is here. As much as we’d like to believe the gift from Sebastian was completely innocent, we agreed that we can’t rule out anyone attempting to gather intel on our marriage. There is simply too much at stake.

“What’s on the menu tonight, Sarafina?” he asks, his seductive dimple coming out to play. His tone carries his usual charismatic lilt. Great, now I have a front-row seat to watching Sam come on to this gorgeous woman. One who can cook, no less.

“I’m preparing shrimp ceviche, a cucumber salad, and fresh Mahi Mahi with mango salsa over saffron rice.”

“Sounds delicious. Doesn’t it, Lex?”

“Fantastic.” Waving over my shoulder, I continue toward the bedroom, almost in a zombie state. Even the threat of my new husband flirting it up with our personal chef isn’t enough for me to stay upright. “Yes. Can’t wait.” I yawn.

I make quick work of rinsing off in the shower before mindlessly finding a tank top and panties and crawling into bed. I doubt I’m still a minute before I succumb to sleep.

Yet it doesn’t take long before I stir, unable to remain relaxed. I feel Sam’s presence before I see him. Suddenly, there’s no more contract. No grandfather’s trust, or overbearing mother. And no bitter memories of homecoming dances and harsh words behind locker doors. There’s only the sensation of his warm, firm body against my back.

“Is this okay?” he groans, his hard cock pressed into my ass, making me squirm.