Castle Hill (On Dublin Street 3.5)

A look of distaste took the heat out of his eyes.

He took a swig of whiskey and eventually muttered, “Thanks. ”

I looked down at his lap. The erection was gone.

Trying not to smile, I looked away casually and asked airily, “What do you want to talk about until the flight is called?”

“Cold wind. Sleet. The ugly doorman at Club 39. Porridge. ”

I burst out laughing. “You mean anything that won’t give you an erection?”

He smiled at me, his eyes roaming my face lovingly. “Maybe we should just stop talking altogether. And put a bag over your head. And cover your legs. ”

“Just don’t look at me. ”

“I can still smell you. ”

“I could move. ”

“Dare move away from me and I’ll put you over my knee, Wife. ”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. ”

Braden cut me a dirty look and I covered my mouth with my hand so he couldn’t see my grin.

We were silent for a few minutes and then I leaned my elbow on the bar, resting my chin on my palm as I told him softly. “I’m loving our honeymoon so far. ”

He took my other hand in his. “I am too. ”

I shifted closer to him, resting my knee against his. “Do you want to wait in the first-class lounge? I’m sure it’s filled with stuffy businessmen types who will certainly shatter the very sexual mood we’ve got going on here with all their stiff-upper-lippishness. ”

Braden’s mouth twitched. “Stiff-upper-lippishness?”

“Stiff-upper-lippishness. ”

He nodded, laughing softly now as he got up out of the stool and helped me down from mine. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he said as he walked us toward the lounge, “Maybe we should stop using the word ‘stiff’ since apparently being married to you means losing control over my body and any self-respect I might have. ”

“Grounds for divorce?” I teased as we showed our boarding passes to an airline attendant at the lounge doors.

“Grounds for a marathon fucking,” he answered dryly, not caring that the airline attendant had turned purple at his reply. “You won’t be able to walk for a while when I’m done with you,” he continued, gently guiding me into the lounge, leaving the gasping attendant behind.

I determinedly tried not to show my embarrassment, as I was used to him sometimes saying hot, blush-inducing shit like that to me in public. The key was to not let him know he’d flustered me.

“I’m happy with that as long as we’re talking multiple orgasms. ”

Three suits turned their heads toward me from the small bar in the lounge, their eyebrows raised.

Braden and I stopped and I felt his hand squeeze my hip. “We’re going to get thrown out of the first-class lounge. ”

I smirked. “You started it. ”

“Actually, you started it. ”

I heaved a sigh and glanced at my watch. “Well, unfortunately we’ve got about ten hours before we can finish it. ”

Not looking too happy about that, Braden’s eyes swept the room, a glint entering them when they stalled on the restroom door.

“No,” I said immediately.

He threw me that boyish grin that was very, very difficult to resist.

Shit, fuckity, shit, fuck.

“Braden, no,” I hissed. “There’s no way we can do that discreetly. ”

“So?”

“Braden—”

He let go of my hand. “Follow me in after a minute. ”

I grabbed his hand back. “No, we’re acting like teenagers. ”

His grin widened as he leaned his head toward mine. “We’re on our fucking honeymoon, babe, that’s the whole point. ” He glanced back at the restroom and squeezed my hand. “I’ll go and then you follow me after a minute. Pretend I’m ill or something and you’re just checking up on me. ”