Chapter 9

chapter

nine

Landry

When I finally close the door to our private honeymoon cabin, I lean against it and let out a breath.

Brook chuckles. "Tired?"

I groan. "That was a lot of peopling in a short amount of time."

Her eyes light up. "I wouldn't have immediately thought you were an introvert, but I can see it now. Being on is exhausting, isn't it?"

I nod, unsure of what to say. Because I don't think I've ever felt more seen than I do in this moment. I swallow thickly and stare at the woman in front of me.

"That's the problem with working in the hospitality field. You can never not be on. I tell ya, I would not mind letting Natalie handle all of that kind of stuff, and I can handle the business end." She wrinkles her nose. "I guess my sister and I should probably talk about all of that, huh?"

She walks further into our suite and her eyes light up when she sees the private balcony with the hot tub.

"I told you there'd be a hot tub. We should definitely utilize that. I don't know about you," I stretch my arms up and twist my body, "but I'm sore from all the traveling."

"Oh shit!" she yells from the room she just disappeared into.

I follow her and find the bedroom. Nice big King-sized bed, ensuite. I look around for maybe a spider or something.

"What were you hollering about?" I ask.

"Why didn't we even consider this?"

"What? Can you help me with some extra words, maybe some charades? Just tell me it's not a goddamn lizard. I hate those fucking things."

She turns and looks at me with a frown. "What are you even talking about?"

"I don't know. You screamed; I figured it was a critter of some kind. What the hell is wrong?"

She starts to laugh, and then it's all over because she dissolves into a fit of giggles. It's kinda bordering on hysteria, but that sound is so magical that I don't even care. I probably look a bit like I'm touched with hysteria too, by the size of my smile. I can't see it, but I sure can feel it.

After wiping her eyes, she exhales slowly. "I needed that, Landry, thank you."

"I'll give you whatever you need, Manhattan, you just have to ask. Chocolate, a foot rub, multiple orgasms, you say it and I'll deliver."

"Where does all that arrogance come from?" she asks with a tilt of her head.

"Experience. I'll have you know I can spot a piece of chocolate across the room before anyone else."

She rolls her eyes and turns back to face the bed. "That," she points. "What are we gonna do about that?"

I go stand next to her to see if I'm missing what she's seeing. "The bed?"

"Exactly!"

"Uh… I've never been to the panhandle of Texas, but they do have beds there, right?"

She smacks me on my chest. "I'm being serious."

"I know. And it's confusing the fuck out of me. Speak slower for the kids in the back, Manhattan, we weren't all ‘A' students."

"There's only one bed, but there are two of us."

"Excellent math skills." I nod at the bed. "I do see the problem. Are you worried that you can't be that close to me and not crawl all over me?"

She doesn't even crack a hint of a smile. "Uh, no. But we obviously can't sleep together."

"Why is that obvious?"

"Because we're not actually engaged."

"Aww, darlin, are you saving yourself for our wedding night?"

She walks away, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "I can't even with you right now."

"I know you pretend not to like me, Manhattan, but I think I'm wearing you down. By the end of this trip, I'm gonna be your favorite person." I go and stand behind her at the big picture window overlooking the ridges. I grip her biceps and give them gentle squeezes. "Don't worry about it, darlin; I'll sleep on the floor. It's just three days. Can't be worse than summer camp in Waco." I shudder.

She laughs. "Do I want to know?"

"Nope."

"Fair enough." She bites down on her lip and looks up at me. "Won't that be really uncomfortable? Sleeping on the floor?"

I lean closer, bracing one arm on the wall behind her, then I tuck a piece of her brown hair behind her ear. "If you want me to snuggle in that big ‘ol bed with you, darlin, you just have to ask."

She shoves at my chest, but she's smiling and laughing.

"Come on, Manhattan, let's go relax in the hot tub. I'll go get it set up. You go do whatever it is ladies do before getting in a swimsuit."

"Swimsuit?" she asks.

"You did bring one, right?"

"Uh…"

"Naked hot tubbing it is." I turn for the patio doors.

"Yes, yes. I brought a swimsuit."

I go outside and pull the lid off the hot tub, then turn it on. It's crisp outside, unlike the heat that's already bearing down on Texas. It doesn't take me long to change into swim trunks, grab a beer and climb my tired ass into the steaming bubbly water.

I groan as I settle in and the jets pummel water into my sore back muscles. I've got my beer to my lips when the door opens and out she comes. She's a vision. A vision of curvy perfection.

I choke. On what, I'm not sure because I haven't even taken a sip yet.

The white suit highlights her natural olive complexion. The deep vee of the front plunges down between her full breasts and has some kind of laces, zig-zagging between. Like a corset, only on the front.

She stands there looking at me as if she didn't just jump start my heart.

"Fuck, darlin, warn a man before you come out looking like that."

Her face falls and she sucks in a breath.

Shit. Somehow, I hurt her feelings.

"Brooklyn, what did I say?" I set my beer down and walk over to where she's still standing.

Her arms are wrapped around her body, hiding herself from my view.

"Sit down on the side for a minute so I can look you in the eyes."

Her eyes are swimming in unshed tears, and I don't know what the fuck I did. But she lowers herself to sit at the edge of the tub, her feet dipping into the water.

Me standing in the tub facing her makes us close enough to the same height. I lower myself a little to meet her gaze.

I cup her cheeks and thumb away her tears. "Please tell me what I said."

She angrily swipes at some tears that escape. "It's not you. I promise. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just still fighting some old ghosts. I guess I can still hear their voices on occasion."

"Explain more, please," I say.

"Old boyfriend. He had lots of opinions about how I dressed, what I wore, what I ate, how I did pretty much everything."

"Tell me what he would have said about that swimsuit."

"That I was too big to wear it. That I shouldn't flaunt my curves because I'm plus sized. I should minimize myself. Wear black, keep on a cover up. That sort of thing."

"And you think that's what I was telling you?"

She lifts a shoulder in a tiny shrug.

I place my hands on her waist and lift her, pulling her into the water with me. "Here's how I meant it. You look so goddamn sexy in that suit, I nearly swallowed my tongue."

She gives me a weak smile and nods.

"Do you understand?"

"I guess."

"Give me your hand," I say.

She holds it out to me, and I bring it under the water and press her palm against my hard-on. "That's what you do to me, Manhattan."

She gasps, her eyes meeting mine.

"Now tell me that fucker's name so I can find him and kick his ass."

This time she gives me a watery laugh.

"You think I'm kidding. I'm so not. Men like that deserve to have a dose of what they dish out. I bet he's a puny motherfucker, isn't he?"

I get an even bigger laugh this time. "Thank you," she says.

"Don't thank me for being honest. You're gorgeous. Your body is perfect, and you can flaunt it in front of me any time you want." I take a step back from her so I don't stick her hand inside my swim shorts.

She settles in across from me, her hair up in a messy bun. I wasn't lying to her about that swimsuit instantly making me hard. Well, Brook wearing the suit is what sent all my blood southbound. I haven't even seen her from behind, but I'm willing to be her ass looks bitable.

After I'm sure she's good and relaxed, I speak up.

"Hey, so can I ask you a question?"

"I guess."

"I've always heard that women can get off on the jets in one of these. That true?"

She stares at me, her lips parted. "Are you seriously asking me about masturbation right now?"

"I let you touch my hard-on; seems like a fair trade."

She fights a smile and loses. "You are incorrigible. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Probably, but don't ask me to spell it."

After a quick exhale, "Yes, it's true."

"You ever done it?"

"That is none of your business."

"So that's a big yes." I wink at her.

Her arms cross over her chest, which just makes her cleavage pop more over the water. "Are you going to tell me your favorite ways to get off?"

"Oh, I see. Not only have you done it, but it's your favorite. Nice."

"That is not what I said."

"I think the lady doth protest too much."

"Did you just quote Shakespeare?"

"What? I can't be a hairy motherfucker and appreciate the Bard?"

"Touché." Her lips fold in and her eyes narrow. Then finally, she shrugs. "Yes, I've done it. Are you going to ask me to play Truth or Dare next? Maybe Spin the Bottle?"

"We can do all of those if you want." I drain the rest of my beer. "Here's a bottle."

She just laughs.

"I knew you'd done it. With the jets, I mean. Don't suppose you'd care to demonstrate?"

"I most certainly would not."

"It's worth a shot to ask. My favorite way to get off for the record is inside of a warm, willing…"

She yanks me forward and pushes my head under water.

I come back up laughing. Then I stalk the short distance to her, my body is dripping water. I lean over her until she looks up into my face.

"This weekend can be anything you want it to be, Manhattan. We can keep pretending and take all the pictures and notes you and Natalie need for your business. Part ways as friends and I'll count myself a lucky fucker."

"Or?" she asks, the word breathless.

"Or, you can let me peel this suit off your gorgeous body and show you how a real man appreciates your curves."

I get close to her face, enough that our breath mingles. My eyes lock on hers. "Lady's choice." I stand and step out of the hot tub. "I'm going to go take a shower."