“I am in racing, yes.” He tilted his head. “I could get you driving lefty in no time, Brynne,” he answered, a charming smirk lighting up his eyes as he teased me. “You just say the word if you ever want a driving lesson.”

“Fat chance of that happening, Dillon. I believe I’ll do the honors of teaching my wife to drive British, thank you very much.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see how well you’ve come along with your lessons by the time we meet up again in October for Neil and Elaina’s wedding, because I will be checking in with Brynne,” Dillon challenged with a wink in my direction.

“Oh, you will be there?” I asked him.

“I will be.” He gave a slow nod. “Neil and I go back to our school days. Elaina’s brother, Ian, too. Good mates of mine.” Dillon looked over his shoulder in the direction of his table. “My guest is here, so I should go and leave the two of you in peace. So lovely to have met you finally, Brynne.” He bowed his head to me. “And you, Blackstone, have done very well, you lucky bastard.” He shook his head with a devilish grin.

“Astute as always, Carrington. Thanks again, for the wine, and we’ll see you up in Scotland very soon.”

Dillon gave us a wave and returned to his table, his striking looks grabbing the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant as he greeted his date, an exotic, leggy brunette with obvious enhancements of the silicone variety, staring our way quite intensely, probably annoyed at us for monopolizing her boyfriend.

“He seems nice,” I said. “He’s really famous, isn’t he?”

“Ah, yeah, slightly. You were just offered driving lessons by a Formula One World Champion, my darling.”

“Wow. He is legendary. I knew I’d seen him before, I just didn’t realize it had been on TV and at the newsstand.” I glanced over at Dillon’s table. “I don’t think his girlfriend liked him talking to us though, because she’s throwing off some pretty toxic vibes.”

“I don’t think that’s his girlfriend.” The sarcasm in Ethan’s comment was impossible to miss.

“Why do you say that?”

“Baby…” The censuring look he set on me spoke volumes. “I can say it because I know the man. Dillon Carrington doesn’t have girlfriends. He has dates.” Ethan nodded his head toward their table. “And that is a date.”

“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 f**kin’ 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 f**king. 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.