Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 82

“I love it.”

I inhaled, soaking her words in, filling my chest with pride. “Good. I figured we’d unload and sunbathe on our way to Naples and then dock for dinner and a night out.”

Her straight teeth latched on to her wide smile, and she nodded, clapping her hands.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t even care. I’m so damn excited.”

I shook my head and led her to our rooms. Despite the boat having almost ten rooms, she didn’t argue when I placed our items in the same room. We shared a room at home, but part of me half expected her to argue every step of the way.

Instead, she grabbed her bathing suit and twirled away to the bathroom.

Before I changed, I dug through her purse and grabbed her phone, listening carefully for her coming out. I checked to make sure everything was still blocked, and when I was satisfied, I plugged in the USB and uploaded the second program.

I’d planned this honeymoon specifically to keep her out of the loop. By this point, her friends may have caught wind of what was going on, and I needed to keep her as far away from any information. I planned the yacht because it would be more believable that we lost service out on the water.

Just as I was tucking her phone away, mine vibrated with an incoming text message.

Archer: See if she knows any information on the sale of the company when it transferred to L. Need more to proceed without error.

Me: Get it to you soon.Guilt pricked, and my grandpa’s wisdom about honesty in a marriage hit me.

But like Verana reminded me, this wasn’t a real marriage. This wasn’t born from love like he had with my grandma. This was business. And for me, it was revenge. Guilt had no place here.

No matter how much her reminders that this was all a ruse created a growing ache in my chest.

It was business.

Maybe if I said it enough, I’d push any doubt away.

I’d barely got my swim trunks on when she came out. When I looked up, I found her eyes glued to where my dick had been hanging out moments before and smiled a victory at her hard swallow.

However, it was short-lived. When we made it to the pool up top, she removed her swim-cover to bare a skimpy black bathing suit, and I was the one left gawking. Her bottoms were more of a thong than anything and the top covered her cleavage, but a strip bared the underside of her breasts. I clenched my fists at my side, fighting the urge to crawl over her and suck and bite at the pale curves.

More champagne was brought, but she asked for water, occasionally humming to the music playing through the hidden speakers on deck. I tensed each time she picked up her phone, but she would merely huff and set it aside.

“Everything okay?” I finally asked.

“Yeah. My phone is just acting up. I’ve restarted and everything, but I have no service.”

“If it makes you feel better, mine isn’t getting service either.”

Her lips pursed, and she looked at the glittering water stretched along the horizon. “It’s just bad timing. Nova is heading on a trip, and it’s secluded with an intense hike. I was hoping to FaceTime her before she left since she’ll be gone when we get back.”

The guilt rushed back, and I opened my mouth before I could let the risks talk me out of it. “I’ll call the company and see what we can do. Maybe we can at least call her from the yacht phone.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She still studied the water, occasionally picking up her phone. Each time she’d huff, and I hated the pressure it placed on my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter.

Needing to distract us both, I turned to my side, propping up on my elbow and resting my head on my hand. The dock had half a dozen loungers, but she sat on the double one with me, and I counted it as a win.

“You know, sunbathing topless is completely normal in Italy.”

I infused heat and innuendo into my suggestion, and some of the pressure eased when she sat her phone aside and barked a laugh.

“You wish.”

“Hell, yes, I do.” She turned her head, and I took my time scanning her entire body, spending extra time on her chest. “You have perfect tits. I remember them in my hand, your hard nipples scraping my palm and begging for my fingers.”

I tracked the way her chest rose a little harder and faster, looking up her neck to watch it work over a heavy swallow, and to her cheeks, turning redder than the sun could make them. She pursed her lips, and I enjoyed watching her struggle to regain her composure.

“You just want me for my body.”

“Not true.”

“Yeah, right.”

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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