Page 148 of Resisting Mr. Granville

He laughs, pulling me in so he can kiss my neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I tell him, nuzzling close. “So fucking much.”

Chapter thirty-three

Milo

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window. Beside me, the loveliest woman in the entire fucking universe lies tangled up in our bed sheets, her perfect tits pressed against my bare side.

I’m in paradise, all right, but it has little to do with the beach vacation.

It’s her. This angel lying here beside me. I can’t believe she’s mine.

But she is.

And since I’m a greedy bastard, I have to make sure she’s mine to love and protect for the rest of my life.

Careful not to wake her, I ease out from under her and climb off the bed. Piles of wrinkled clothing lay crumpled on the floor all around me.

I need to get clean clothes out of the suitcase so I’m not walking around with my dick out when room service brings up breakfast, but I don’t want to risk waking her up, either. Maybe I’ll just grab the robe out of the bathroom.

I look down at Kennedy sleeping alone in the bed and feel a twinge of regret at leaving her.

I want to stay in bed and soak up every moment I have with her, but I know we have the rest of the day to laze around.

All we have booked is a massage, so besides eating and hydrating, I can fuck her pretty little ass until neither of us can possibly go another round.

Then I can hold her. Kiss her. Touch her. Talk to her. Just generally enjoy her company.

It’s going to be a hell of a day.

I grab my cell phone off the night stand and see a bunch of missed notifications on the screen. I’m on vacation, so I ignore all of them except the one from my son.

He sent it sometime in the middle of the night. As a father, I wonder what had him up so late.

I suppose I wonder that not in a fatherly capacity, too.

Jonathan’s text could be harmless, just checking in, but when I read his, “Having fun?” especially noting the time he sent it, I can’t help but detect a note of jealousy. Probably salty because he can’t barge in and stop me from fucking her when we’re in another goddamn country.

Hell, that’s half the reason we’reinanother country right now.

I type back, “Sure am,” but before I press send, my gaze flickers to Kennedy.

My eyes rove over her bare back and messy hair. She got some sun yesterday at the beach, so the contrast between her sun-kissed skin and the stark white bedding makes her look even sexier. She’s clearly naked, but enough of the sheet is draped over her body. Nothing is showing that shouldn’t be.

On impulse, I snap a photo of her lying there, well-fucked and sleeping peacefully with the ocean visible through the window behind her. I attach the photo and erase my first message, typing instead, “We’re having a lovely time. Thank you for asking.”

Even though he was up late, he must be awake already because he responds immediately. “She looks happy. Must be dreaming about me.”

I laugh a little despite myself. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” I text back. “She wanted to buy you a toy in the gift shop yesterday.”

“I like toys,” he answers.

“It was a sand pail,” I inform him.

“Not the kind of toy I’d like to use on her, but give me a minute to get creative. I’m sure I could figure out a way to make it fun.”

I roll my eyes, shifting the conversation away from Kennedy. “Everything okay at home?”

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