Page 158 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Me too. They’re so smooth, soft, and sweet.”
Continuing to watch her toe-fuck the banana, I have no doubt in my mind she’s smooth, soft, and sweet as well, my patience to find out almost nonexistent until she scissors her toes, clasps the banana, and fucking peels it… with her other foot.
“Ta-daa!” Lifting her leg, she offers me the fruit. “Hungry?”
I blink, close my eyes, and… laugh.
“No?” she teases. “It’ll be a shame to waste.”
Burying my frustration, I snap my eyes open and launch off the sofa toward her. She screams and tries to scurry away, but I clasp her ankles and twist her onto her back, dragging her to me until she’s straddling my lap, my arms firmly secured around her.
“That was…”
“Talent?” she offers.
“…not what I was expecting.”
Giggling, her eyes mischievously chase mine, lips closing in a fraudulent pout. “But you said you liked bananas.”
I nip her shoulder, then trail my tongue up her neck, tasting her delicious skin.
“Ohhh,” she drawls, voice breathy, eyelids fluttering. “So you thought my talent was something else, huh?”
I nibble her earlobe and murmur, “You could say that.”
She ghosts her lips over mine. “Maybe it is.”
My body sizzles like a firecracker, my hips bucking, desperate for her to show me, until her fingers slide beneath my waistband.
“Fuck!” I grit my teeth and hold her hand still. “Wait!”
Herbody stiffens. “Wh?—”
“Before we go any further, there’s something I have to do first.”
She retracts her hand, her pretty eyes cautious.
“Trust me, sweetheart. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”
chapter twenty-three
RILES
Confusion ices my body when Riley lifts me off his lap and turns his back on me. I’m ready to take things further, and I thought he was too, but maybe I was wrong.
Nervously fixing my hair, I wait for him to explain when he walks to his bedside table, opens a drawer, and collects some documents and a small box.
“I brought my divorce papers to sign when the time was right. And that time is now.” He takes a seat at the desk, flips a page over, and scribbles his signature.
Shocked, because I did not see this coming, I rub my wrist, awkwardly fiddling with the beaded bracelet he bought me in Greenland. “Do you want some privacy? Because I can?—”
“No. This will only take a second.” He folds another page over and signs again, as if what he’s doing is nothing more than endorsing a check.
I take a seat on the edge of my bed, keep quiet, and wait for him to officially end his marriage, knowing how hard this is for him, whether he cares to admit it or not.
He flips the pages back and slides the document aside before picking up the box and turning in his seat to face me, his fingerscaressing the velvet. “And I brought my wedding ring to toss into the sea.”
My jaw drops, my spine rigid. Although different from my own farewell, the similarity that he too is on this trip to say goodbye in his own way pinches my heart.
