Page 31 of Married With Malice

This makes me feel no better.

And it’s a bad time to remember his devilish grin. I also remember the brief feel of his weight on top of me and the unwanted tickle of desire.

Okay, more than a tickle.

Waymore.

Closer to a tidal wave that left me biting my tongue out of fear that I’d do something insane, like wrap my legs around his waist and stick my tongue in his mouth.

Why can’t Luca be ugly? Or at least mediocre?

It’s just one more element of unfairness in this whole arrangement.

I tuck my floppy hat under my arm and shake my long hair loose as I step into a pair of flip flops and start trudging through the sand. My room is on the far north end of the sprawling resort, away from all the noise and with an exquisite waterfront view.

There’s still a whole lot of time left in the day with zero plans on my calendar. Last night I ordered room service and reveled in the solitude. There’s nothing to stop me from doing the same tonight. Somehow this doesn’t sound as appealing as it did yesterday.

As much as I try to sell myself on the idea of relaxing in luxury forever and never lifting a finger, I’m feeling restless. I miss working. I miss the feeling of accomplishment when one of my young students completes a jump for the first time.

It’s depressing, having no purpose, but my father’s warning rattles uneasily around in my head.

Dismissing this thought, I swipe the card key to my suite and step inside.

The first thing I notice is that the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony are wide open. A light sea breeze ripples the gauzy drapes. The second thing I notice is that there is water running somewhere.

The suite is huge with a large living room area and two bathrooms. The nearest bathroom is empty and nothing is out of place. The noise is coming from the other bathroom, the one attached to the bedroom.

Housekeeping has been here. It’s possible the water was left running accidentally.

Dropping my beach bag on the floor and kicking off my flip flops, I move to the middle of the bedroom and stop cold.

The bathroom door is open and the shower is on. There’s a neatly folded pile of clothes on the vanity.

Dark, man-type clothes. Luca’s clothes. That’s his duffel bag on the floor.

Fuck.

How nice of him to give me a heads up that he was returning from his Miami party. Now he’s showering out in the open as if this room belongs to him alone.

I’m not ready to deal with another round of marriage wars. All I need to do is grab my charger and a change of clothes. He’ll never even know I was here.

This is no permanent solution but it’s a solution that might give me an hour or two of breathing room.

The charger ought to be on the nightstand where I left it this morning. Walking to the far side of the king-sized bed means that I’ll pass very close to the bathroom. If Luca happens to glance up in the midst of washing his dick, he might see me. The best way to avoid this is to climb over the bed.

I sink one knee into the mattress. The slight creak is sure to be drowned out by the shower noise. This stupid bed is enormous. I crawl forward and there’s an even louder creak. I’m paranoid enough to worry the sound will carry.

Easing down to my belly, I stretch out my arm. My fingertips brush the table. The charger should be plugged into the outlet at the base of the table lamp. I stretch harder and mouth a curse.

The shower abruptly switches off.

There’s the sound of the glass door sliding open and Luca steps into view.

He’s naked. He’s glistening. He’s ridiculously gorgeous.

At the moment he’s facing away, giving me a clear look at his entire backside. Every inch of him is sculpted muscle. I’ve been to Rome and admired the ancient statues of flawless marble men. They are all inferior to Luca Connelly. His body is just a whole other dimension of pure excellence.

There’s a fluffy white towel in his hand and he’s casually rubbing the water from his skin. I have no idea how I will extricate myself from my current awkward position. Yet before I can tackle this project I need to figure out how to look away from Luca’s naked body. My eyes don’t want to cooperate. They don’t even want to blink.

---