Page 7

CHAPTER 7

PAXTON

The flight to the Maldives passes in a blur of anxious tension, two in-flight meals, and enough melatonin between Monroe and myself to help switch our internal clocks.

I’ve opened my mouth no less than a dozen times to talk to Monroe about what happened last night at The Queen’s Rum , but I stopped myself every single time. Mainly because I've never seen her act this way before—short answers, awkward laughing, and stiff body language.

I've known this girl forever, and she hasn’t acted like this since she tripped in the lunch room in fifth grade, spilling her tray all over her crush at the time.

Fuck me. Had I been that bad? Had the line we crossed showed her every fear I’ve always dreaded? Or did she simply regret it?

The memory flashes hot through my mind as the long journey finally comes to an end, the plane descending. It’d felt electric on my end, and the whimpers and moans that came out of her mouth, the way she'd kissed me back, had given me every indication that she felt the same.

And yet after we’d spent some time with our friends at the bar, she’d been silent on the drive home, and had smiled at me awkwardly before she ran to her room.

It’d taken everything in me to not go knock on her door and hash it out right then, but I wasn't about to force her to talk about something she didn't want to, hence our near silence throughout this very long plane journey.

Sure, we slept a lot on the ride, her head lolling against my shoulder, the only physical contact she'd allowed herself today. But still, I can feel the distance between us like a knife in my chest.

The plane lands, and we gather our carry-ons, stretching our limbs the second we're free from the confining space. It's a short and silent wait for the rest of our luggage, and before I know it, we're stepping outside and breathing in the fresh salty air, the kiss of it on our cheeks invigorating and lighting Monroe up in a way that gives me hope about regaining common ground between us.

“This is amazing,” Monroe says as we hop into a local taxi that will take us to the speedboat and on to our resort. “I can't believe we're actually here,” she continues, hanging her head slightly out the window and taking in the sights.

Miles of cerulean ocean hug white sandy beaches as our taxi driver drops us off, and I gather our luggage as we head toward the dock where the speedboat is waiting for us.

The captain is friendly, greeting us with a warm smile as I load the luggage onto the boat, then make sure Monroe is in safely before I follow behind her.

The captain takes off, slowly gaining speed, the boat bumping slightly on the waves as he expertly navigates it toward one of the many islands, pointing us in the direction where our resort resides.

Monroe laughs as the ocean splashes us with a fine mist, the sound real and unencumbered by the tension between us. The anxiety threatening to choke me loosens just a little, and I stretch my arm behind her on instinct as the boat nears our island. She doesn't draw away from my touch, instead smiling at me with a level of gratitude that isn't needed.

I pay the captain, and gather our bags, following a wide-eyed and open-mouthed Monroe up to our resort.

We head into the lobby, and she turns to look at me. “This is the place you booked?” she asks, astonishment lining her features.

“Yeah,” I say, tilting my head as we wait for our turn to go to the front desk. “Why? Something wrong with it?”

“Nothing is wrong with it,” she says, shaking her head and glancing around the elaborate lobby, complete with open-to-the-elements doors that show the beaches and the bungalows and the water beyond. “It's incredible,” she continues. “I just didn't realize how expensive it was going to be.”

I flash her a chiding look. “I told you I booked this before I invited you, so you don't need to worry about anything. I just want you to have a good time. You deserve it.”

Something flashes in her eyes…something that feels charged between us. She parts her lips, but whatever she was about to say gets cut off by us being called to the front desk.

We get checked in, and one of the resort employees takes our bags to the bungalow, encouraging us to get something to eat while they settle them into our room.

“I could definitely use some food,” Monroe says, and we head to one of the six restaurants located on the island, this one featuring fresh seafood caught straight from the waters outside their door.

We place our orders, the two of us greedily drinking down the water offered, doing our best to replenish after the long flight.

“I'm glad you remembered the melatonin gummies,” I say after we've settled in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few minutes. “I don't think I've ever slept that great on a plane before, and while I can feel the lag a little bit, it's definitely not as much as it could be.”

“Right?” she asks after taking another sip of water. “It's a total game changer. That and altering your clock the minute you get on the plane. Trust me, I don't expect I'll ever get to come back here, so I want to make the most out of every single day. Jet lag isn’t an option.”

I smile at her. “You look like you're feeling pretty refreshed,” I say, unable to not admire how damn gorgeous she is.

She wears a simple white tank top and a flowy turquoise skirt with sandals. The perfect beach attire , she’d said when she boarded the plane yesterday. And she was right, she looked delectable, her full lips shaping an easy smile now.

“I feel pretty good,” she says. “And I'm glad you do too. That means we get to go straight to the fun.”

My chest loosens another fraction, hope spreading wider and soothing my tense muscles. I know we need to talk about what happened last night, but I want to do it on her terms. I want a clear if not silent signal that that door is open to speak about it, and until then, I'm fine living in denial land.

Our orders are delivered, and we dig into some of the best seafood I've ever tasted. Monroe agrees, damn near moaning after every bite of fish she takes, the sounds doing unspeakable things to the desire I can barely hold down now that I've gotten a taste of her. We talk small talk, history of the island and the resort in between bites, and when we're finished, the server comes to get our plates.

“Do you think your wife wants dessert?” The server smiles down at me with the empty plates in his hand.

“She does,” Monroe says before I can correct the server. “As long as that's all right with you, my darling husband?” Her smile is wide and breathtaking, and I can't deny how right those fictitious titles feel sliding over me.

“Of course, honey,” I say, playing into the bit. “Only the best for my wife,” I say to the server, who nods and gives us promises of a dessert menu.

“What are you in the mood for, Mrs. Ritchford?” I ask as she looks over the menu.

“Oh, you know me,” she says. “I'm always in the mood for something fruity. But I can't make up my mind between these two,” she continues, pointing to two selections on the menu.

“Get both,” I say with a shrug.

“Really?”

I nod, smiling at her. “Definitely.”

She smiles back, ordering the two desserts. I add my preference and the server hurries off to put in the order.

“I think I like being Mrs. Ritchford,” she says in a singsong voice. “Does that title mean I get whatever I want?”

I cock an eyebrow at her, adrenaline storming my veins at the game we're playing. “Since when have you ever needed my last name for me to give you what you want?”

Her eyebrows raise, the teasing smile shifting to something more serious, and suddenly, I'm not sure if we're playing a game anymore. I can almost feel the words building in my throat, ready to ask her about last night, when the server brings back our desserts, breaking the tense bubble we're in.

Dessert is met with more moans of delight, and we share, slipping further into vacation mode as we get the check and then head toward our bungalow.

“Wait,” I say with the key in my hand. “Shouldn’t I carry my wife over the threshold?” I ask as we linger outside the door.

“Oh, you most certainly should,” she says, extending her arms.

We’re both laughing, finally feeling somewhat back to normal as I unlock the door and swing it open before scooping her into my arms. I cradle her to my chest, stepping over the threshold and kicking the door closed behind us.

“Wow,” she says, her arms looped around my neck, but her eyes focused on the bungalow. “This is stunning.”

She gazes at the open floorplan with smooth wooden floors, light lush furniture, and doors that allow the elements inside. The exterior, which we get a tease of from where we stand in the living room, shows off the wraparound deck and infinity pool that stretches right into the ocean the bungalow is perched atop.

“The most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, my eyes on her as she drinks in the space.

She turns her head, visibly swallowing as she looks at me, our faces only a breath away from the way I’m still holding her. Her eyes flutter from my lips to my eyes and back again, and every muscle in my body clenches with need.

Slowly, I shift her to her feet, her body dragging against mine with the movement.

She blinks a couple times as I release her despite wanting to hang on. I know if I hold her too much longer, I’ll ask questions she doesn’t seem ready to answer.

“I’ll go make sure our luggage is in the bedroom,” I say, my voice low and raw, barely containing the need pulsing through me.

I take a step toward the hallway that leads to the primary bedroom, but she stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist.

“Why didn’t you come to my room last night?” she asks, confusion lining the delicate features of her face.

My eyes widen. “Why didn’t you come to mine?”

Her lips part and she shakes her head.

I turn toward her again. “Did you not like what happened between us at the bar?” I finally ask. “Did you not enjoy it?”

“What?” she gasps.

“You’ve been distant the whole trip over here,” I continue with a shrug. “I swore you were into it but now I’m worried?—”

“Of course I was into it,” she cuts me off.

Those words perk up all of my senses. I take a step closer to her. “Then why have you pulled away from me all day?”

“Because,” she says on a loosed breath, emotion lining her eyes. “You’re…you’re Paxton,” she continues. “ My Paxton.”

“And?”

“And I can’t lose you,” she says, her voice soft. “If we continue to cross the lines like we did at the bar, and it doesn’t work out between us? I’ll lose you. You’re my best friend. My safe place. My freaking constant. I don’t want to be selfish and risk all of that because of how badly I want you.”

Her words slide beneath my skin with a warmth that threatens to burn me from the inside out. I close the distance between us, brushing a hand along her cheek. “You want me?”

A shudder goes through her and she nods against my hand. “I’ve wanted you for a very long time,” she admits, and the words ignite a fire in my soul.

“You have me,” I say, heart thumping hard against my chest. “In whatever way you want me.” I lean down, brushing my lips over hers, the contact feeling like a much-needed deep breath. “I won’t let this ruin us,” I continue, kissing the corner of her mouth, then just beneath her jaw, relishing the way she leans into me. “I want you. And I want to give you whatever you need. I want you to take whatever you need from me. Always.”

“But, Pax,” she says, a little breathy. “You’ve already given me so much. Everything. I want to return it, not ruin things, but I don’t know how.”

“Just you,” I admit. “All I want is you.”

“You’re sure?” she asks, her words a whisper.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything than I am about you, Monroe.”

Something churns in her eyes, a combination of emotions that seem much deeper than a simple need to be satisfied?—

Her lips crush against mine, cutting off all coherent thought as she wraps her arms around my neck, drawing me closer, kissing me harder.

The kiss is unrestrained, her tongue meeting mine in a needy little way that has my cock twitching. Her hands fall from my neck to my chest, gliding down to the hem of my shirt before she tugs it up.

I step back, drawing the shirt over my head quickly before reaching for hers. She raises her arms, and I swear I’m about drop to my knees at that submissive move alone. I drop her shirt to the floor, groaning as she wiggles out of her skirt, leaving her in nothing but a matching set of dark blue lace.

I hurry out of my pants, then she’s in my arms again, our lips clashing, exploring, giving in to the need thrumming between the two of us. My heart threatens to burst right out of my chest despite my brain telling it to calm the fuck down. It’s almost impossible to separate the magnitude of what’s happening from what this needs to be. Because I may have been in love with her for years, but she’s not there yet, and I can’t put something that heavy on her.

So I do my best to submit to the present moment, floating on cloud nine with every kiss, every touch, every piece of her she’s giving me.

And since I have no idea if this will be the only time, I’m going to make damn sure I don’t waste a second.