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The guys tried to talk me into one of the Villas, but I wasn’t having it. If I was going to the Bahamas, I wanted the full experience and the idea of an open balcony I could jump from to get into the ocean sounded like a dream come true. I was right; it is.
We don’t need more than one room anyway.
Barrett puts me down gently and I barely have my feet underneath me before I’m racing through the small room and out to the balcony, taking a deep breath and letting the stress of the city and traveling fall away.
A solid body presses against my back and, as I sink back into the warmth which surrounds me, I know it’s Colt who has joined me. He leans down and whispers into my ear, “Are you happy, Ella?”
I spin in his arms and look up into his eyes, a big smile on my face. “So happy, Colt. This place is gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers as he reaches up and pulls the band out of my hair, releasing my travel approved messy bun.
I don’t know how he does it, but this man has the ability to make my cheeks heat with the simplest of words. Maybe because I know he means it and he’s not only talking about my physical appearance. He loves me, every part of me. They all do.
His eyebrows come together in concern. “Are you hungry? They have some restaurants to choose from. One isn’t far from us. We could get something to eat and then relax the rest of the night.”
I smirk, knowing he studied the map of the resort as if this vacation is one of his missions for Sullivan Protection. “Relax?” I arch an eyebrow in challenge. “Have you ever relaxed a day in your life?”
He smirks, sending tingles of awareness through my body. “I’m relaxed when I’m buried in one of your pretty little holes as I sink my teeth into your skin, little lamb.”
A moan escapes my lips, his words washing over me and making my pussy wet. As if that’s ever a problem around my men. It’s not.
“I’m not hungry,” the words are breathy and laced with desire.
Barrett’s voice is a gruff demand, “You need to eat.”
When I look over to where he’s leaning against the doorway into the cabana, his eyes flash and, somehow, I know he’s figured it out. Damn it.
I do have something to tell them, but I’ve been trying to keep it a secret. It’s been hard as hell. I don’t do well being evasive and my men aren’t exactly normal. Not only have they been trained to be the best of the best at what they do, keen observers and interrogators, but they’re also attuned to me.
“Didn’t I see a very well stocked fruit basket as I raced through the room? It looked delicious,” I hedge, not wanting to give up the information I have so early and easily.
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. I’ve almost let it slip countless times since I found out and then confirmed my pregnancy. I think if they would have been home when I got there after my appointment, I would have blurted out the news.
It’s so difficult to hide things from them. Especially when I know they know something is going on. And they know that I know they know something. It’s just a soup can Andy Warhol image of epic proportions. Hiding something, when our relationship is built on honesty and openness, is difficult. When it comes to them, I’m horrible at the cat and mouse games.
It’s not like they don’t know it’s a possibility. I got my birth control implant removed after they asked me to marry them, and I quit my job, where I was miserable. I wanted to focus on giving my men a place they could come home to, a place where they be focused on our family.
Possibility and reality are two different things.
Barrett cocks his head to the side, his green eyes roving down my body like I know his calloused hands want to do. “You want fruit.”
I bite my lip and try not to sound nearly as wanton as I’m feeling right now, “It’s a start.”
Colt growls before his hands are in my hair, holding me where he wants me so he can kiss me until I’m sure the sunset has disappeared beyond the horizon line and a million stars are twinkling in the sky. If anything could call into question the constant rules of time and space, it’s my men.
Colt nips at my bottom lip before murmuring, “You’ve been very bad, Ella. If you want fruit, then we’ll give you fruit, but if you don’t come clean about whatever you’ve been hiding, you won’t like the consequences.”
I let out a small whimper and my body instantly recognizes the threat and loves it. It’s the moment before you know you’re going to run and the anticipation mounts as your mind whirls with the possibility of getting away. Then you’re off, a spring uncoiled, kinetic energy in motion and feeling invincible.
Until you’re brought down by a predator larger than yourself.
After Colt hands me off to Barrett to lead me inside, Colt’s voice rings in my head. I can’t shake it while my men peel and cut fruit, feeding me morsels which must me more delicious because of a combination of how fresh they are and the setting.
My men, somehow, turn eating into fucking foreplay, their teeth cutting through the ripe flesh of the fruit and reminding me not only of Colt’s words making me aware of a looming punishment, but also of the way it feels for their teeth to sink into me.
Maybe I could try to out swim them. Just for fun. I want to be caught.
CHAPTER 2
