Page 116 of Own the Eights Gets Married
Jordan
“The bride was a vision in white, dressed in a stunning ivory gown,” Georgie read, glancing at her phone.
Jordan rolled over, took the device from her hand, and set it, face down, on the bedside table.
His gaze lingered on his wife’s naked body. “I agree. You were a vision in white, but I’ll take you like this over a dress any day.”
She raised her hands over her head, presenting her beautiful breasts and lick-worthy torso as if it were his birthday.
Actually, it was better than his birthday. It was their honeymoon.
With the hypnotic ebb and flow of the ocean meeting the sun-kissed coast just a few feet from their private bungalow, two days after they wed, they’d traded the Colorado mountains for the stunning beaches of Fiji.
“I could get used to this,” she said, then frowned.
“What is it?” he asked.
She glanced over at a plate of fruit. “I am a little hungry.”
He reached over and plucked a piece of pineapple from the plate. “I can’t believe you like this stuff now.”
“It must be the island vibe,” she answered before he placed the tropical bite of fruit into her mouth.
Georgie hummed her delight, and the sexy sound went straight to his cock.
After a whirlwind engagement, culminating in an unforgettable wedding ceremony, covered by CityBeat, viewed by millions around the world, and attended by all their friends and family—including at least five hundred of Georgie’s mom’s closest acquaintances, all he’d wanted was to be alone with his wife.
Wife!
He loved the sound of that.
And, clocking in at over six thousand miles away, a secluded beach house at an exclusive Fiji resort was just what they needed.
“I can’t believe you didn’t know your mom and Howard had this place,” he said.
“There’s a lot I didn’t know about my mother and Howard, but I don’t want to talk about my parents at the moment,” she answered as her gaze hungrily traveled down his naked body and settled on his hard length.
That was the other thing. He might not have been wrong about making her out to be a sex maniac.
Honeymoon Georgie was downright ravenous—not that he was complaining.
After two weeks spent pining away for her, he was damn near ready to explode. Luckily, all that pent-up sexual energy wasn’t going to waste.
She sat up and arched her back lazily like a satisfied cat.
“Do you know my favorite thing about lounging around all day in paradise?” she purred.
“All the pineapple you can eat?” he teased.
She shook her head, then reached for a strip of the sheer fabric hanging from the canopy bed. Slowly, she wrapped the lace curtain around her wrist.
“All the creative ways we canfuckwithout even leaving the house,” she answered.
Yep, Honeymoon Georgie had a dirty, dirty mouth when it came to getting down and dirty.
He reached over toward the other side of the bed and pulled another sheer strip of fabric over. He brushed the lace across her torso before wrapping it once, then twice around her other wrist.
“I’ve got you right where I want you,” he said, prowling the length of her body and dropping kisses between her breasts.
