bonus was the disappearance of the nausea that had plagued her. It was enough for her to conclude that old woman’s comment in the bathroom before the wedding had been exactly what she’d thought it was at the time—complete crap! But, truth be told, she’d been seriously worried there for a while that she was pregnant. Hell, the thought had lingered long enough to ruin her drinking at her own wedding, save for a few sips of champagne to prevent any probing questions.
But just as quickly as it’d started, her nausea had abated. And now all of that worrying nonsense was behind her, she could truly enjoy her honeymoon.
Bali was truly beautiful, and their piece of heaven even more so.
A tiny part of her wished she and Thom could stay here forever. She didn’t want to go back to Santa Barbara and spend endless hours watching the worry on her mother’s face she tried so hard to hide, or witnessing Luc and Rafe skirt each other like cage fighters about to tear each other to pieces.
Above all, she didn’t want to go back to having Jarrod within tempting distance. In fact, she didn’t feel like thinking about or even seeing Jarrod again.
Liar.
She smothered the pang of guilt. Sure, she missed him. Missed the excitement he evoked in her. Missed the illicit thrill of their connection. Missed the unmistakable power of his cock inside her, pounding her to mind-altering ecstasy.
But this was her honeymoon.
She was married now.
Thom was a good, sweet man, if a little clueless at times. The sex wasn’t exactly setting her world on fire, but surely there was more to life, and marriage, than great sex, right?
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
She jumped at the voice that scattered her thoughts. “What?”
“You’re staring at your wedding ring and frowning,” Thom observed from his relaxed position on the lounger next to the one she’d been using.
Beside him stood a silver bucket with a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling on ice. On the low, wide table, next to twin crystal champagne glasses, a platter of appetizing hors d’oeuvres prepared by their personal chef was ready to be devoured.
She quickly smoothed her features, suppressing thoughts of Jarrod and the toe-curling orgasms he’d given her the night before the wedding. “Am I?” she asked absently, weaving her legs in the water to cool her rising temperature.
“Yes. Should I be worried?” he asked with eyebrows raised.
She forced a laugh. “Of course not, silly. I... I was just think about my dad,” she lied blithely.
Thom sat up, tossed his gold-rimmed Ray-Bans onto the table and stared at her with worried eyes. “You haven’t heard anything, have you? Has he taken a turn for the worse?” he asked.
“No. At least I hope not. I’m taking no news to be good news.” She attempted to smile, a little regretful she’d spoiled the lovely atmosphere with lies and thoughts of her married lover. “I wish he could’ve been at the wedding, though.”
Thom rose and approached where she was clinging to the side of the pool. In his turquoise swimming shorts and the darker coffee tan he’d achieved in the few days they’d been in Bali, her husband’s sleek, athletic figure was eye-catching enough to capture and hold her attention. He had a six-pack most men would envy, he moved with an inherent grace and his face and soulful brown eyes were movie-star gorgeous.
He was a catch. She couldn’t deny that.
When he folded his tall length down beside her and dangled his legs in the pool, she looked up into his face, wishing he evoked the same thrill in her that Jarrod did.
She smashed the thought away as Thom reached out and gently cradled her cheek. “I wish your dad had been there, too. But I’m sure he’s being well taken care of. Try not to worry too much, okay?”
Sudden tears clogged her throat, his unfettered concern touching her. She wasn’t sure why she felt so emotional lately. Again that pang of guilt pierced her. She quickly blinked the tears away, blaming it on the final release of all the pre-and post-wedding jitters. She should be enjoying her honeymoon, not second-guessing the choices she’d made.
Thom cared for her. She wasn’t sure what she felt for him was love—maybe just deep friendship—but she truly believed they could make this work.
The smile she managed to summon felt natural, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief as she laid her hand over his and basked in his affectionate smile. “Okay, I’ll think only positive thoughts.”
“Good.” His hand traced her jaw then caressed down her neck to her shoulder. “Are you coming out to grab a bite to eat? The steak tostada bites are amazing, and you’ll love the cucumber and shrimp bruschetta.”
“Ah, so many carbs, so little time.”
“We have another few days. You can work it in,” he replied with a grin.
“I’m sure I can. But I need to work off some calories first.” Her wicked smile was all the warning she gave him before she grabbed his hand and yanked him into the pool.
He paid her back by diving deeper into the water, then grabbing her legs to drag her down to join him. They were both spluttering and laughing when they resurfaced.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world right then to link her arms behind his neck when Thom pulled her close and nuzzled her cheek. “Need to work off some calories, huh? What do you have in mind for that?”
Elana leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I don’t know, Thom. I could continue swimming.”
“Or I could go for something even more stimulating,” she said.
“I might have a suggestion.”
“Do you? Fine. Surprise me,” she challenged.
When he hesitated for a moment, then reached behind her to free the ties to her white bikini top, Elana wished her heart would race as fast as it did when another set of hands touched her.
When Thom settled his mouth over hers and pressed his tongue into her mouth, she guiltily wished for a deeper, more carnal version of the kiss.
When he carried her naked out of the pool, laid her down on the double-wide cabana bed and positioned himself between her thighs, she closed her eyes and tried to steep herself in the moment.
And when her husband called her beautiful and slid deep inside her, Elana called herself ten kinds of fool for wishing for more pleasure, for wishing that her bliss didn’t feel so far out of reach.
Sex wasn’t everything. And hell, more often than not, it was overrated.
The inner voice that mocked her assertion was ruthlessly ignored as she redoubled her efforts to enjoy her husband’s lovemaking. She must have succeeded, because very soon Thom was moaning his release, peppering her face with kisses as their breaths resettled. And minutes later, he was dozing, sated, beside her.
She listened to his light snores as she stroked his smooth chest. And as drowsiness and
