Rare and Precious Things (The Blackstone Affair 4)

“You know this how exactly?” I persisted.

“Because I used to be just like—” He shifted in his seat and looked like he wished he could bite off his tongue. “Oh, forget it. I really don’t want to talk about Carrington’s social life on my honeymoon.”

“Me either,” I said. And I really didn’t need to know any more, because I was confident that Ethan knew exactly what he was talking about, because he’d just let slip the reason.

After all, he had been just like Dillon Carrington before he’d found me.

CHAPTER 5

“AS much as I’d love to stay swimming out here with you, we’d better go in and start getting ready for the party. I have to wash my hair.”

I groaned my protest with plenty of displeasure, hoping it might work. “Not that fuckin’ thing, please.”

“Ethan, come on, you know we have to go. I have to be there. Marco said we are his honored guests, and he’s planned around us being here, specifically. How rude would it be to just not show up?”

I pulled her legs around my hips and trapped her against me as I tread the sparkling water of our little beach cove. Maybe denial would be more effective since she wasn’t buying my complaints. “I’m keeping you out here in this beautiful sea with me forever.” I nipped at the shell of her ear and flicked the lobe with my tongue, tasting the mix of her skin and the salt of the water.

“Forever, huh?” she answered, allowing me access to her neck by tilting her head to the side.

“That’s right.” I took her offer and sucked at her beautiful neck, the mark I’d made on our wedding night now just a faint blush. With her hands gripping my shoulders and her long legs wrapped around my hips, I had her exactly where I wanted her. Now, if I could just get her mind off the motherfucking cocktail party she was demanding to attend, my immediate future would be sorted out perfectly. Floating in the sea and soaking up the sunshine with my sweet girl in my arms. “Yep. Forever here with you, not some sodding party crawling with idiots.”

She sighed heavily, most likely thoroughly fed up with me, but she brought her forehead to rest against mine, and rocked from side to side. “What am I going to do with you, Blackstone?”

“I have some good ideas if you’re really stumped.” I squeezed both luscious halves of her arse and pulled her against my cock.

“So, sex in exchange for taking me to the party?” She thrust up and down my length with a few grinds of her hips under the water, giving me an instant hard-on, and heading for the shore.

I’d done this grab and carry from the beach to the house a few times since we’d come here. It always ended the same way. Volcanic sex. Extraordinary fucking. The ultimate prize in intimacy with the person I loved, bringing me to a place of nirvana with her. A place I’d only ever found with Brynne.

With her pillowed at my neck and nuzzling as I took us inside our villa, I was pretty confident I wouldn’t have to worry about that stupid party at all in another few minutes.

“THAT is what you’re wearing to this thing?”

My question earned me a hearty scowl, and a stiff back turned on me with a toss of her silky hair.

So much for the nice after-swim shag of two hours ago. Might as well have been two years ago, because right then we were getting ready to go to Carveletti’s motherfucking cocktail party in town.

“Why, Ethan, are you saying that I don’t look nice in this dress?” her tone chilly, as she applied eye makeup at the bathroom mirror.

“You look more than nice, and that’s the part that worries me.” Brynne was off-the-charts sexy all of the time, but this little dress she had on was going to kill me tonight. Emphasis on the little. It was a silky tunic-like creation in yellow and blue, with a print of the Parthenon on it. That part was fine. It was the micro length of the thing, showcasing her long, tanned legs in a manner that would serve to give any man who saw her in it one thought—and only one thought. How I’d love to get those sexy legs wrapped around my cock.

“You worry too much. It’s just a babydoll summer dress. We’re on holiday at the beach for Christ’s sake. I am dressed for the occasion.”

A babydoll dress? Fucking hellfire and damnation. I was confident tonight would age me permanently. For a few reasons. One was just the casualty of having a beautiful wife who grabbed attention everywhere we went in public, no matter how subdued she was in her personality. Another was the destination, and crowd we’d be mixing with tonight. I couldn’t pretend to be happy about it, but knew I was outvoted and undermined when it came to Brynne’s modeling.

I imagined what I could say to the people I’d meet at this blasted party, as I sat on the bed and shoved my feet into my shoes harshly. Hello, Ethan Blackstone, nice to meet you. My wife is one of Carveletti’s models. Isn’t she lovely without her clothes on? Smashing tits, I know. Oh, trust me, I know. *wink* Which picture of her do you prefer? The one of her tits or this one where you can really see the curve of her sexy arse? I dragged a hand over my beard in anxious frustration.

Simply absorbing the content of my imagined social greeting was a little more than I could handle, so I tried to distract myself by thinking of this afternoon’s swim with her instead. Didn’t help much…

Carvaletti, one of her photographer friends, had invited us to his home, which just happened to be in Porto Santo Stefano. Marvelous fucking luck. Brynne was determined to drag us there, so I guess I’d be cockblocking all goddamn night instead of enjoying the beach under the stars with my girl.

I was pulled from my inner rant by her cool hand at my cheek and a worried expression on her lovely face. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could just kiss her senseless into forgetting about going to this thing?

“Please don’t let this party ruin our night. It’s just a mixer of industry people who happen to be gathering while we’re here.” The pleading look she gave me tugged at me, making me feel guilty for not being more supportive of her work.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m trying to support you here, but am afraid I suck at it. I go mad when other men hit on you. I want to kill first and ask questions later when I see how they look at you.” I shook my head at her “babydoll” dress. “And with you wearing that, I know I am well and truly fucked for an evening of torture.”

“Many of my photographers are gay, Ethan.” I could feel her inner thoughts calling me a possessive arsehole, even though I knew she wasn’t to that point yet. Not yet…but I might push her there if I kept on.