Page 79 of Painted Truths

* * *

Waking the following morning, I find an almost naked Henry snuggled up against my back with his firm, corded forearm draped over my waist, holding my back tight to his front. I lie in the comfort and safety of his arms, listening to his even breathing for a long time, just soaking up the moment and committing it to memory until the need to relieve myself overpowers me, so I gently and unwillingly extricate myself from his hold.

When he eventually rouses thirty minutes later, I’m on the spacious balcony, dressed in a little white sundress I pulled from my still packed luggage while simultaneously tanning my naturally sallow skin and checking emails. After all, it is technically a workday, and as I’ve decided not to mention a word of this impromptu trip to Alex until I get back to the UK, it must appear as business as usual on my end.

He quickly nips that in the bud by kissing me so long and hard that it sets my head spinning, and as I’m busy recovering, he confiscates my phone.

Cheater.

But the kisses are so divine, I don’t really mean it.

“No working whilst on holidays, Peaches. Them’s the rules. For the next few days at the very least, you are wholly, completely, and thoroughly mine.”

Huffing out an affirmative, I try and fail to keep the grin from my face as he leans in to drop another kiss on my always-willing mouth.

“A driver should be here shortly to bring us to the next leg of our trip.”

My mouth drops open. “You mean, we’re not at the wedding venue yet?”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘P’ with a smug grin. “Just a seaplane away.”

My mind is whirling with possibilities, but a seaplane from this location must surely mean…

“The Bahamas?”

He nods effusively, pulling me into his chest and hugging me to his beautifully moulded body. I could stay in his warm embrace forever. However, just as I feel all the tension begin to leave me, we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Let’s get this utter shitshow on the road, folks!” Nate bellows from beyond before either of us has moved.

Giving my body one final squeeze, Henry opens the door to admit Nate and a bellhop, who proceeds to move our luggage onto a trolley alongside Nate’s before moving on down the corridor toward an elevator.

Following both him and Nate out the door, Henry’s hand firmly holding mine, that’s precisely what we do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Olivia

Our secret destination turns out to be Isla De La Cruz, a private island not too far from Nassau that Caden bought as a wedding present for Layla.

On a scale of one to ten for best wedding gifts ever, it's a solid fifteen.

As the ceremony will take place on the beach tomorrow evening, Henry uses the afternoon as the opportunity to introduce me to his other best friend, the illustrious Caden North, alongside the other members of Misdirection, who all arrived last night.

Caden and Layla's villa is done in the Spanish style, with a large open courtyard in the centre, leading off to the various sections of the house. It's positively gigantic, almost like a castle minus the turrets, and as we journey across the courtyard, my stomach bubbles nervously.

Henry intuitively picks up on my anxiety and takes a moment to pause in the centre of the open space, several formally dressed servers milling around us, to take my hands in his before bringing them between us. He gazes down upon me with such clarity in his eyes, such intent, that it momentarily steals my breath.

"They're going to love you, Peaches. Trust me."

Suddenly, his smile transfers to a grimace.

"Entirely too much, I reckon. Caden will love you, but the rest of the band will want to fuck you because they're complete horn-dogs who love nothing more than a banging body, gorgeous face, and tight as fuck pussy, so make sure you keep well clear."

Leaning up, I place a light peck on his soft mouth, so his scowl is replaced by my most favourite smile in the entire world.

"Let's go, McHottie."

Cocking a brow and tilting his head in the most adorable way that only he can pull off, his smile drops slightly as he questions me. "McHottie?"