Page 45 of If the Ring Fits

Ella nods, intrigued. “Other things?”

She glances at me, as if asking for permission to… say she’s pregnant? I give a subtle nod. “Well, we’re expecting and I was exhausted all the time.”

“Oh, wow.” Ella congratulates us and as the women discuss pregnancy woes, I find myself distracted by the way the sunlight plays across Rowena’s skin, highlighting the gentle curve of her shoulders and the swell of her breasts beneath the bikini top.

I force myself to pay attention to the conversation, chiming in with the occasional comment to back Rowena’s story. But try as I might to focus on Rowena’s words as she spins our well-rehearsed tale about how we met and fell in love, my attention is drawn to her lush figure barely concealed by that tiny bikini.

I’m not the only distracted party, though. I catch Rowena’s gaze flitting over my abs and chest more than once as she talks.

I decide to mess with her a little. Flexing subtly, I make my pecs bounce. Rowena stumbles over her words mid-sentence. She quickly recovers but avoids meeting my gaze, suddenly very interested in the pool tiles.

I have to bite back a grin. So the attraction isn’t just an act on her part. The discovery sends an unwise thrill through me. I shouldn’t read too much into it. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased by her admiring glances.

Feeling reckless, I slip an arm around her bare waist and tug her against my side.

Rowena’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly. She gazes up at me, her lips parted, eyes hooded. For a charged moment, I forget we’re playacting. Forget the audience watching us. My mind is consumed by how badly I want to capture her lips with mine and?—

Preston’s boy dive bombs into the pool, splashing everyone and shattering the spell. We break apart, Rowena’s face flushed, as Ella shouts after her son to be more respectful.

When Ella turns back expectantly toward us, Rowena seems dazed.

“What was I saying?” she asks.

Ella chuckles. “Oh, you were only about to tell us how Adrian proposed!”

I flash a grin, projecting ease I don’t quite feel. What am I doing? I’ve no idea, but some devil must’ve possessed me because next, I switch position, sliding behind Rowena on the beach lounger and wrapping my arms around her waist. Her sun-kissed skin is warm under my palm, and the faint scent of her coconut sunscreen fills my nostrils.

I drop my chin onto Rowena’s shoulder, our cheeks nearly touching. “Do you mind if I tell the story, Sunshine? You know how much I love reliving that moment.”

Rowena turns her head to look at me, our noses almost brushing. For an agonizing instant, I’m positive she’s going to pull away, to put some distance between us. But she doesn’t. Instead, she leans into my embrace, a soft smile playing across her lips.

“Sure, Bunny,” she teases in an intimate tone. “You tell the story.”

Heat radiates from my hairline down to my thighs as more of her bare skin presses into mine.

I look back at Ella and go for a dramatic flair. “It was a dark and stormy night…”

Rowena laughs, the sound bright and musical. “Oh, come on! It was not!”

I grin down at her, tightening my arms around her waist. “Okay, okay. It was a perfect summer evening, with a sky full of stars and a gentle breeze blowing into the city from the ocean…”

As I launch into the fabricated tale of our engagement, there’s a tiny part of me that wonders what it’d be like if the woman in my arms were truly mine, if the love shining in her eyes was real and not just a reflection of the setting sun.

18

ROWENA

This weekend is proving harder than I thought. First, there was the “only one bed with the 1,000 thread count sheets and romantic ocean view” situation. Which, if I weren’t wearing blindfolds, I should’ve expected. Who would put an expecting couple in a room with two beds? No one.

Then there was the sight of Adrian in swimwear, his golden gladiator body on full display and missing only a thorough oiling to make all my Spartacus fantasies come true. Miles and miles of flat muscles and sculpted abs that could be used to grate cheese—and that I don’t seem able to stop ogling.

Hello? Weekend at the beach house. I should’ve seen the partial nudity coming, too.

But I was unprepared for the wolfish way Adrian stared at me as I emerged from the bathroom in my bikini. He seemed particularly taken with my boobs specifically, which, admittedly, have never looked better—if only they didn’t feel this achy. His heated gaze on me made me almost burst apart at the seams. I’m working as hard at keeping it together as my poor biking bra is struggling to keep my grown-out-of-size breastscontained. In short, there’s too much skin on display on both sides.

Then there’s the small matter of how much bare skin is currently pressed against my back or draped around my waist.

I’m not sure if Adrian has taken his method acting very seriously or what else, but as I lean back into his chest and listen to his deep voice narrate the concocted story of how he proposed, can I say that I don’t care? That I’m just content being here for the moment, not looking too closely at the whys or hows.

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