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“I heard there was a party happening here.”
A chorus of cheers rang out, and there were only two people who could produce that response, the bride and groom.
“We were signing the marriage licenses and getting my family settled,” Bronte explained, her dark-as-night hair pulled back into a ponytail and swinging as she hugged her friends. “Sorry we’re late.”
“Yes, you’re terrible hosts,” Gem said, and Chris ruffled her hair before introducing himself to Mike.
He was shorter than Mike thought he’d be, but grinning from ear to ear. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for making room for me.”
Chris waved him off. “Anything for Samantha.” He leaned in closer to Mike. “Those girls there are like my sisters. I’d do anything for them.”
And like Jason, Chris got that dopey look on his face while he stared at Bronte as she told a story about their flight down here yesterday. Mike wondered if that was what he looked like when Sam smiled over at him.
But he was sure he did.
He just needed to see what it looked like on someone else to know the face he’d been staring at in the mirror all these weeks was one with hearts in his eyes.
“Oi, ladies and gentlemen,” Bobby said. “Should we take this reunion outside? I could use another bottle of champagne too, eh?”
Everyone agreed and settled in pairs. Jason and Gem flopped down in the grass, Bobby and Laney in a hammock, Chris and Bronte on chairs they’d pulled out, and Sam next to Mike in the shade of a palm tree.
Fruit and champagne turned into a dinner of burgers and fries, and their conversation flowed from topic to topic. Mike could barely keep track, but it didn’t matter. Not with the way Sam kept her hand on his thigh or the occasional seductive glance over her shoulder. If it weren’t for the rain that started to fall, they might have stayed out all night under the stars, but instead, each couple ran inside to their respective bungalows.
Sam laughed, shaking off her arms from the sudden downpour, her shirt clinging to her body. “I guess that’s what they get for booking this trip in the summer in the Caribbean.”
“I don’t mind,” Mike rasped, towing her up against him.
She crawled her fingers up his chest, to the base of his neck. “What do you think of everybody?”
“It was nice to finally meet the people you talk about all the time.”
She leaned up onto her toes to kiss him. Her tongue tasted like rum and Coke and pineapple, and if he could, he’d drink her up. He settled, instead, for stripping her down.
“You want to check out that shower now?” she asked as he peeled off her shirt.
He bent to kiss her shoulder and unhooked her bra to skim his hands over her breasts, her nipples catching between his fingers. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he glided his hands along her rib cage to her back, bending her backward as he trailed his tongue up from her breastbone to her throat, provoking a sigh when he sucked on the soft skin below her ear.
“In case I haven’t told you enough. I’m really glad you’re here.”
He kissed his agreement into her skin then tapped her ass as he stood her up straight. “Go on. In the bathroom.”
She let her hand drift over his side, ghosting over his swiftly hardening cock as she turned away from him, tugging on his hand to follow. Inside the bathroom, the walls of the shower were clear, displaying the two heads on either end and the bench in the middle along the wall. He stripped off his shorts and underwear before stepping inside it to have a seat to remove his prosthesis, although it was hard to concentrate with the way Sam had spun around, bending to take off her own shorts, her sweet backside round and naked.
As if she didn’t know what she was doing to him, she raised a shoulder. “What?”
He merely lifted his eyebrow and held out his prosthetic. With a sugary smile, she took it and carefully set it down on the tiled floor outside the door. But before she could turn on the water, he grabbed her waist, hauling her back to him. He nipped her shoulder. “You think you’re so cute, huh?”
“I don’t know. Do you?” She wiggled out of his grasp. “You like a hot shower?”
His gaze roamed over her. From the wisps of her purple hair to the subtle slope of her stomach and hips. “Mm-hmm.”
“Me too.” She turned on the water and regulated the temperature then grabbed some gel soap. She acted as if he wasn’t there watching her lather her skin up, the heat and steam amplifying the sweet, tropical-fruit scent, and he trailed his hands over her body, unable to keep them off her even as drops of water fell onto his face. He barely stopped to blink, his gaze never leaving the curve of her thighs, the color of the phoenix on her back, the lines of her arms as she washed her hair.
Once she finished, she held up the bottle of shampoo to him. “Your turn?”
When he nodded, she squirted some into her hand again and worked up a lather in his hair, her fingernails scratching along his scalp, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick.
