AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You ready?”
“You’re enjoying this too much!” Her arms squeeze until my ribs constrict. “You’re tormenting me for the fun of it.”
“That’s a marriage perk.” I would kiss her if I could. Take her lips with mine and seduce her with my tongue until she relaxes. But since I can’t reach, unless I go full Exorcist, I set my hand on her thigh instead. Too high to be appropriate. But just high enough to get her attention. “You’re going to be fine, Minnnka. You know your safety is all that matters to me. Now harden the fuck up.” I rev the engine and earn a squeal of delight as we rocket forward and cross twenty feet in a mere second.
I place my second hand back on the handlebars and steer us from wave to wave, jumping from one to the next as the ocean is just choppy enough to provide those breaks. Minka’s arms squeeze me until my lungs ache, but her body sizzles against my back. Her palms, resting against my stomach. She sets her cheek on my shoulder blade, preferring to snuggle in than see the view. But that’s okay because I like her wrapped around me, anyway.
I make us go the long way, riding parallel to the coast instead of heading straight there. Because I want this to last. Give me five minutes with her, maybe even ten, instead of the less than two minutes it would take to clear the space between our boat and the land.
But I keep our speed reasonable. Fast enough to whip her hair back and for the fabric of her dress to completely abandon her succulent thighs, but not so fast that she can’t relax. That, after the initial fear, she can’t poke her head out and discover the world around us.
“You okay back there?”
She straightens behind me, cautiously lifting her face from my back and looking around. “This isn’t so bad.”
“Like I said,” I chuckle. “You want me to go faster?”
She shakes her head, even before her verbal answer crawls along her throat. “No.”
“You want me to go slower?”
Again, she shakes her head, side-to-side. “No.”
“Excellent.” I peel my hand from the handle and slide it back to hold her thigh. Because I can. Because we’re safe. “You hungry? We could eat when we hit the island. Or we could?—”
“Shopping first.” Surprising me, she drops a delicate kiss on my back. “I want to explore. We can eat later.”
MINKA
Archer is a man of many talents, I suppose. Skills I had no clue he possessed, so easily unpacked when the need arises. He brings us to a sleek dock, somehow out of place when all those surrounding it are made of old, splintering wood, and helping me off the Sea-Doo, he places money in the palms of a local and trusts our mode of transport to a man in flip-flops, a straw hat, and a delightfully toothless grin.
Somehow, my husband has connections to people everywhere. And that reach becomes more and more unsettling the further we venture from home.
Yet, as he takes my hand and strokes the glittering ring he placed around my finger this week, he’s entirely charming. Romantic. He’s perfectly content with my non-romantic self, smiling as we wander along the dock and step around merchants who immediately swarm in and offer to sell us wares.
Clothes. Bags. Necklaces made of shells and pretty rocks.
He leads me through the crowd and past a stall that sells wooden, hand-crafted masks, and another hawking hats. Huge, wide-brimmed hats made in every color of the rainbow.
His smile remains, no matter how many locals try to abuse our personal space, then he swings me closer, forcing me into a twirl,in freakin’ public! that brings an embarrassed blush to my cheeks.
“I always wanted to dance with you in Jamaica, Mayet.” He tugs me in and throws his arm over my shoulders, forcing me under his arm and smacking a noisy kiss to my temple. “I’m living out all my fantasies right now.”
“Your good mood is creepy.” I wrap my arms around his torso and risk tripping on his feet as we walk. But I want to be close. I want to be held. “We work with the dead. Our lives are depressing. Your face constantly does this thing now. It’s weird.”
“It’s called smiling,” he teases. “So weird, right? This isn’t us.”
“I’m feeling a little misled, to be honest.” I allow him to steer us away from the crowds, away from those who shout to be noticed, and across a busy street until we’re in a community garden type space. Grass and trees and beautiful flowers in every color. People meander through, and others try to sell things. But it’s calmer here.
It kind of has a Central Park feel to it, but much, much smaller.
“On a scale of zero to losing your shit,” he looks down at me and smirks, “how much are you missing dead people?”
“I’m not.” And yet, I glance away because I can’t look into his eyes and tell such a blatant lie. “Missing something, and being out of routine, are two different things.” Bringing my gaze back, I purse my lips. Because he laughs at my clarification. “I’m a woman who thrives on consistency and schedules. It’s how I cope with everyday life. That doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying this. It just means it’s different.”
“And if you could have Aubree here right now? If you could go shopping with her instead?”
“I would die a painful death.” Finally, I can tell the truth. “Shopping with Aubs is as much fun as sliding bamboo shoots beneath my fingernails.” I glance around as we pass a stall bursting at the seams with homemade jewelry. Necklaces. Bracelets. Anklets. Bangles. “She wants to look at every little thing and talk to everyone. Exchange family histories and become their best friends. It’s exhausting.”
