ChapterEighteen
Mark
Three weeks later…Bimini. With bikinis
Years of hurt don’t just disappear in a matter of weeks. It just wasn’t possible.
But by approaching it the way we had, we’d opened the door for me and Layla to heal together.
We’d shown each other that the foundations from years before were still there to build on, and we were stronger for it now while we spent time together, creating new memories and talking through the past to help us start a new life together.
And I’d never been happier in my life. Although, we were both missing Zeus, who was having a mini vacation at his siblings’ place while we were here. That little guy was awesome, and thanks to him, Gilbert had stopped stalking Layla, so she was getting more sleep.
Lying on the bed, one arm behind my head as I listened to the sound of the waves hitting the sand outside and the rain falling, I felt more at ease than I could ever remember feeling. Granted, the heavy rain falling today wasn’t what we’d banked on for our second day, but with the rain came growth, right? Plants needed it to grow, and we hadn’t had a set itinerary when we came here, so I was using it as a day for growth for us, too.
“I’d hate to be out in that water right now,” Layla mused as she came back into the room through the open door to the balcony. “I’ve never gotten seasick, but that might just have made it happen.”
I grinned lazily at her, holding an arm out. She looked beautiful in just a tank top and her panties, but I could see the clear outline of the bikini she’d worn yesterday, thanks to her sunburn.
“Stop laughing at it. I swear I put the sunblock on. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to take your bikini off and still look like you’re wearing one?”
I threw my head back as a bark of laughter burst out of me. It really was that bad, which was another reason why it was good it was raining today.
Picking my head back up, I watched her crawl onto the bed, her lower lip only just sticking out in a Layla-style pout.
“Baby, you put it on first thing in the morning. By the time we came in from the beach, it’d been washed and sweated off. That’s why they tell you to keep applying it.”
She sighed and looked down at her shoulder, wincing at the white strap mark lying outside of where her tank top sat on the skin. “If I wear anything strapless, people will laugh at me. I look awful.”
Pulling her on top of me, I kissed the line in question. “I think you look cute, and I’ve seen you naked and witnessed all of your tan lines.”
“You’re just biased,” she pointed out. “Plus, the first time was when I was soapy in the shower, which distracted you. The second time it was nighttime, and you wanted to rely on the light from the full moon. And the third time, this morning, you were half asleep.”
My lips twitched as she reminded me of each occasion we’d had sex since yesterday afternoon. “Maybe I should check you again.”
Before she could argue, I pulled the bottom of her top up and managed to have it over her head before she could stop me. Then again, she had Townsend DNA, so Layla could likely have stopped it by maiming me in some way accidentally while she tried to escape if she’d wanted to.
Dropping it down onto the bed next to me, I skimmed my hands up the sides of her waist, keeping my eyes on her face.
“Is it awful?” she asked, chewing on her lower lip. “I could get fake tan and put that on, and that way it won’t stand out so much.”
Ignoring the absurd suggestion, I trailed the tip of a finger over the swell of her breast. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head. “No, I have this aloe vera gel thing for sunburn, and it works much better than I thought it would.”
Moving so that my palm was on her abdomen, I stroked it upward until it rested between her tits. “You’re beautiful. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen with sunburn, without it, and every way in between.”
“What about when I’m high on painkillers I shouldn’t have taken?”
Who could forget that?
“Still beautiful, even when you’re acting like a female Cole.”
Her lip curled. “I was never as bad as him.”
“I’mBatman!” I tried to make my voice sound high-pitched and raspy at the same time, just like she’d sounded when she’d kept telling us. “And let’s not forget poor SpongeBob.”
She may have been blushing, but her cheeks were too pink already from the sun for me to tell.