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I stand up and quickly cross the distance between us. I don’t hesitate to slip my arm around her waist and pull her back flush against me.
“Hey, Buttercup.” I splay my hand against her belly as I lean down to nip at her neck. “Sorry about that. My laces knotted.”
She sucks in a breath at the same time that Trent takes a step backward, confusion flickering over his features.
She looks up at me. The confusion on her own features lasts only a fraction of a second before gratitude replaces it. Thank God, because I’m not sure how I would have handled it if she’d elbowed me in the gut and ordered me to back off.
As soon as I see that she’s going to play along, I hold out a hand to the loser, smiling like I don’t want to gut him. “Hey, I’m Martin. Ian’s lawyer and—” I place another kiss her neck. “What do you think, Buttercup? Is it time to let our relationship out of the closet and let everyone know we’ve been secretly dating?”
She opens her mouth to say something. Just to be on the safe side—in case she’s thinking about blowing my cover—I spin her around and kiss her.
Her mouth is already open, the perfect invitation to slide my tongue against hers. She tastes faintly of gin and surprise. And of herself, that uniquely sweet flavor that is all Trinity. She smells like sunshine and sunscreen and all of my most secret desires.
The kiss was meant just to distract her and convince Trent, but as soon as I feel her responding, I deepen the kiss even further, sliding a hand into her hair, touching her neck right where he touched her, angling her head to bare her neck even more, like my touch can erase his entirely. It’s all I can do not to drop my lips to her neck and suction away the remnants of his touch. Not to mark her as mine so no one will ever doubt who she belongs to again.
When I feel her rise up onto her toes, I trail my other hand down to cup her ass. I feel her tense and I’m tempted to punch that fucker right in front of everyone.
Instead, I pull back to kiss her hairline and I whisper into her temple. “Your ass is perfect. It’s perfect now. It would be perfect at any size. And if I ever hear that fucker comment on your weight, I will not be responsible for my actions.” I pull back enough to meet her gaze. She blinks up at me looking dazed. “Got it?”
She nods. Then swallows.
There seems to be a moment where she doesn’t quite know what to do next. But then she rises on her toes again to whisper in my ear. “I know what you’re doing.”
I grin. “Do you?”
Because if her flustered confusion is any indication, she doesn’t.
“Yes,” she whispers back. “The fake boyfriend thing so that you and I can room together. And to save me from Trent.”
I laugh, threading my fingers through hers and guiding her toward the palapa where the rest of the guests are waiting for us, most of them looking as surprised as Trinity. “Is that what I’m doing?”
A frown flickers over her expression before she nods. “Obviously. And thank you.”
I release her hand to pull her even closer, bussing a kiss to her temple. “You’re welcome, Buttercup.”
She rolls her eyes. “That Buttercup thing might be pushing it a bit too far though.”
“As you wish.”
eighteen
TRINITY
Everything happens quickly after Martin announces our “relationship” to the entire wedding party.
Our luggage is carted off to the last remaining cabana and we’re shuttled into the palapa for a pre-dinner drink. I barely have time to wash the airplane off my hands in the palapa’s bathroom before it’s time for dinner.
Dinner is simple, but delicious. Fresh fish, rice and beans, and an array of local fruits for dessert. It’s family style dining with everyone sitting at one long table with the owners, Claire and Jonah, dining with us. Claire is blonde and adorable with the appearance of a German bar maid, complete with twin braids like Heidi. Jonah is huge and muscular. He grunts answers more often than he speaks them, but he looks at Claire like she’s his entire universe.
On one end of the table, Claire is describing the resort’s ecology efforts. On the other end, Savannah and Lily are quietly grilling Martin and me about our relationship.
Martin is just sitting beside me, arm draped casually over the back of my chair, fingers toying with my hair like this is completely normally, answering their questions.
Meanwhile, I’m guzzling whatever drink they put in front of me (iced tea, water, punch, wine—whatever!) like I’ve been wandering the desert all day. Anything to ensure I have a reason not to answer any of the questions aimed our way.
Questions I can’t answer because: a) I have no idea what’s actually happening, b) I have (apparently) lost all ability to form sentences or thoughts, and c) if I was to try to vocalize anything, it would probably just come out as a moan of pleasure.
Seriously … how is it that him playing with my hair feels this good?
