“The one on the far right!” Lara chirped, then held out her phone. “Hey, do you guys want to see the video of that meat-eating show? Marcus found it!”
“Shut up, Lara!” Leslie bit out, then stormed off toward one of the darkened cottages with Leo, plucking his wife’s shoes from the ground, then skulking back to their cabin.
Jake shared a look with Natalie. It was like they were in the twilight zone.
He turned to podiatry’s Tweedledum and Tweedledee. “Thanks for the offer, Marcus, but we’re going to pass on that meat video. Maybe another time.”
“Sure thing, dude!” Marcus replied, sounding more like a surfer than a doctor.
Jake shrugged off the crazy-town cousins and followed the dirt path up to the darkened cottage. He shifted a still-dazed Natalie in his arms to open the door then whisked her inside.
“So that kiss…” he remarked as he set her down.
It was better to address it and move on.
She turned on a lamp, and a warm pool of light lit the cozy space. “Probably, a good thing to get out of the way. And, now, we don’t have to worry about my cousins wondering if we’ve had intercourse.”
He stared at her lips. Why couldn’t he stop staring at her lips?
He blinked, but it didn’t help. “Can we stop saying intercourse?”
Natalie cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong with intercourse?”
“Nothing is wrong with intercourse. I love intercourse,” he sputtered.
“Then why can’t we say it?” she pressed.
That kiss. That amazing as hell kiss had turned his mind to mush.
He took a step toward her. “Because every time you say intercourse, all I want—”
“Is to have intercourse,” she finished.
They stood in the dim room, staring at each other.
“We are two people hypothetically capable of intercourse,” he mused, taking another step toward her.
“And, even though I’m done with Jakes, you’re my fake Jake so, I wouldn’t be breaking my no Jake rule,” she offered up, then took a step.
“Right, I don’t count as a real Jake,” he agreed, inching forward.
“And I’m on the pill, so we wouldn’t have to worry about any hypothetically unplanned events,” she answered, moving closer.
“And I’ve been tested, and I’m clean,” he added, closing the distance between them.
Their bodies only inches apart, she exhaled a shaky breath. “Me, too.”
He reached for the belt of the trench coat and twisted the fabric around his fingers. “So, hypothetically, nothing is stopping us.”
“Nothing,” she answered.
He’d never been so turned on from such a super-nerdy hypothetical intercourse discussion.
A sultry hint of a smile pulled at the corners of Natalie’s mouth, and she glanced down at the trench coat belt, twisted around his fingers.
“How are you with knots?”
“I’m the damn knot master,” he replied, making quick work of the belt tied around her waist. The coat fell open, and he was met with creamy skin and black lace.
“I love this dress,” he said, his tone growing low and primal.
Jake number six was an idiot.
Standing before him in red heels and sexy lingerie was a literal goddess, and as fake Jake number seven, he wasn’t about to screw this up.
He traced his index finger along the edge of the lacy bra cup. “What do you say we give this intercourse thing a shot?”
She held his gaze, then slid the coat past her shoulders. The material fell to the ground and pooled around her stilettos.
She took his tie into her hands and skimmed her fingers down the silk. “Oops! I seem to be almost naked. This seems like an excellent time to engage in some intercourse.”
That it did. And Jake Teller didn’t need to be told twice.
He took her into his arms and kissed her in a fiery crash of lips and tongues and teeth. She kicked off her heels and melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he gripped her ass and lifted her into his arms. She bucked against him, and he pressed her back against the wall, pinning her body tightly to his. The cottage wasn’t that large, more of a glorified studio. But between the bed, a table, and old rocking chair, he’d identified plenty of surfaces to screw his fake girlfriend’s brains out.
His kisses drifted from her mouth to her jawline as he pumped his hips, and Natalie’s breathy gasps and carnal moans flipped a switch in his brain, sharpening his mind on one single objective.
Make this woman come all night long.
She tugged at his jacket. “Why are you still in that suit?”
That was a good question.
He walked them over to the bed and plopped her onto the mattress. With a surprised gasp and a giggle, she leaned back onto her elbows and settled herself on the bed. The dim light cast her in an ethereal glow, and with her tousled dark hair and those mesmerizing green eyes, his gaze devoured her body.
He loosened his tie and tossed it onto the bed. Then, buttons popping, he stripped out of his dress shirt and kicked off his shoes, pants, and boxers.
Slowly, he prowled the length of her body, trailing his lips from her ankles, up her calves, and past her thighs. She gasped as he slid the silky G-string down her legs.
“You’re like a work of art,” he growled against her thigh, nipping the sensitive skin when a flash of royal blue caught his eye, and he reached for his tie, dragging the soft material between her breasts.
“What are we going to do with this?” she purred, working the material between her fingers.
He thought back to when he helped her with the sleep mask. “Lift your head,” he directed.
She complied, and he covered her eyes, fashioning a makeshift blindfold, then positioned his cock between her thighs.
“I’m going to lick and suck every inch of your body.”
She bit her lip as he teased her entrance with the tip of his cock.
Without the gift of sight, her hands slid down his back, greedily exploring his body until she reached his ass and dug her nails into his flesh. He sucked in a tight breath, wanting to drive in hard. He tensed, so ready to have her calling out his name in ecstasy when he stared down at her and stilled as a wave of familiarity crashed over him. He liked having her blindfolded. He liked it a lot. He wasn’t much into the kink, but this felt right.
“Are you ready?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
“Yes,” she gasped.
Desire thrummed between them as he thrust inside her and was met with her sweet, warm heat.
With her blindfolded, he stared down at her and pumped his hips. He liked watching her. He’d never noticed the little things about the women he’d fucked. But with Natalie, every gasp and every sigh drew him in, deeper and deeper. He slid his hand down the side of her body and cupped her ass, changing the angle to deepen his penetration and grind against her sensitive bundle of nerves.
He dialed up his pace, and she wrapped her arms around him, anchoring her body to his. Lust and need hammered through his veins as he worked her into a frenzy. An ocean, raging with a feverish intensity, threatened to swallow them whole. But he needed more. He needed all of her. Removing the blindfold, he met her gaze and cupped her face in his hand. He kissed her and swallowed her sweet cries of pleasure as she met her release, and he couldn’t hold back. Lost somewhere between the past and the present, a storm thundered through him, and he flew over the edge. The coil wound tight in his belly exploded with a rush of heat and euphoria.
He’d been guarded for so long, this freedom to let go, to give himself over so unreservedly felt as if someone had handed him a get out of jail free card. A wave of peaceful bliss he hadn’t known in years engulfed him as they came back from ecstasy’s abyss.
A tangle of arms and legs, he smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear.
“That was some…intercourse,” she said, catching her breath.
He chuckled. Th
at word would never sound the same to him again. He shifted his body off of her and covered them with a worn quilt from the end of the bed.
“Are you like this with all your fake girlfriends?” she asked, resting her head in the crook of his neck, and the tightness returned to his chest.
He wasn’t like this with anyone. It had to be this place. It had to be the memories of who he used to be that brought all his defenses crashing down. He didn’t have the luxury of being like this with anyone, especially her. Emotional ties made a person vulnerable and weak, and in his world, love and control couldn’t coexist.
And more importantly, he wasn’t just here to pretend to be Natalie Callahan’s boyfriend.
He was here to get her family’s land—the only thing standing between himself and complete control of his life.
She hummed a sleepy sigh against his neck. “Good night, Fake Jake.”
He stared at the ceiling of the cottage. That’s who he was, Fake Jake. He could write off tonight as a lapse in judgment. But from this point on, he’d need to keep his cock in his pants and his eyes on the prize.
6
Natalie
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Natalie tried to move but couldn’t. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it was quite lovely—like sleeping in a cocoon—when something hard pressed against her ass.
This was no ordinary cocoon.
She blinked open her eyes and glanced down to find a muscled and nicely tanned arm wrapped around her torso. And that something hard pressed to her backside? That was the magical cock of her fake boyfriend.
The first Jake to make her come.
Oh, she’d slept with the other Jakes. She’d twisted herself into a pretzel for each one, trying to be whatever woman she thought they’d wanted. Unfortunately, that meant faking a lot of orgasms.
But there was no faking the rush of carnal release that tore through her last night with her fake Jake. Nope, that round of intercourse didn’t require any pretending or sneaking away to finish herself off after an unsatisfying roll in the hay with a lackluster Jake.
It was still hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago, she’d thought her day was going to include a job offer and then a trip to Maine with her boyfriend.
Instead, she was here with Jake Teller. That’s what the TSA agent and the gate agent had called him, right?
OMG! She was only about eighty-six percent sure that was his name.
What a little vixen she’d become! Her mind went back to Jake number four. The jerk who’d said she wasn’t adventurous enough in bed. Well, screw you, Jake number four! Wait! She did not want to screw number four again. But look at her now, having mind-blowing sex with Jake number seven.
But he wasn’t Jake number seven.
He didn’t count as one of her Jakes, and she couldn’t get attached to this one. Even with his magical penis, he was still a Jake, and she was done with Jakes.
Done.
And then it hit her. Maybe ditching the Jakes would break the stupid Kiss Keeper Curse! Could the Jakes be to blame? Yes, it was crazy to blame a lifetime of bad luck on her dating pool of Jakes, but she had to do something, change something. And she would—after she got through this week with the help of her final Jake.
She craned her head back to get a look at her spooning partner when his hand slid from where it rested on her belly, and he cupped her breast. His thumb stroked the tight peak of her nipple as her body trembled, clearly remembering all the delicious things this man had done to it last night.
“Jake?” she whispered.
“Hmm,” he hummed as his hips rocked against her lazily.
Was he even awake? Was he this good of a lover even when he was unconscious?
“You smell so good,” he mumbled sleepily against the shell of her ear, and a shiver danced its way down her spine.
This man’s gravelly morning voice could melt panties.
Lucky for her, she wasn’t wearing any.
Half-awake, a fully erect fake Jake slid his cock past her delicate folds. Warmth pooled between her thighs as they made love slowly in a tangle of lazy limbs. She released a low hum of satisfaction when the distant sound of a bell carried in on the morning breeze.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
They froze.
“Is this real?” he asked, the grogginess replaced with a perplexed bend to his words.
She needed a little clarification. “What exactly are you asking about? There’s a decent amount of fake and real stuff going on between us.”
“This. Me, taking you from behind,” he replied.
She turned and caught his gaze out of the corner of her eye. “That part is real.”
He released her body, scrambled away, then sprang out of bed. “Jesus, I thought I was dreaming!” he said, running his hands down his face.
She wrapped the quilt around her body and stared at him, wide-eyed. He glanced around the cottage and pulled a doily off an end table and held it in front of his still very erect cock.
She couldn’t look away. “You need a bigger doily.”
“What?” he asked, completely confused.
She waved her hand toward his crotch. “I can still see your…”
“Shit!” he whisper-shouted, dropping the doily and substituting it with a carved wooden mallard.
This was weird. They’d slept together last night, and he’d seemed ready for round two until…
Ding! Ding!
She dragged her eyes from the mallard penis protector and met his gaze. “That was two dings!”
At Camp Woolwich, you lived by the bells. And two rings meant five minutes until breakfast.
And you did not want to be late for breakfast.
“We need to go!” she cried, throwing off the quilt and sprinting to her suitcase.
“Five minutes, right?” he called from the other side of the room.
“Yeah, and if my grandparents are running this anniversary week like a camp, which I’m pretty sure they are, we do not want to be late.”
She yanked a bra and a pair of panties out of her suitcase, Houdinied herself into the garments at Mach speed, then shimmied into a T-shirt dress and pulled on a pair of sneakers. She glanced over at Jake and caught an eyeful of her fake boyfriend’s ripped back as he threw on a T-shirt and cargo shorts then pulled on a ball cap.
He turned to her, and she smoothed her dress.
“Do I look okay?”
His gaze softened for a fraction of a second before he schooled his features. “Yeah, you look fine.”
“I think we can still make it on time. Let’s go,” she said, pivoting toward the door when she stepped on one of her sneaker’s laces and pitched forward, falling ass over elbow, and twisted her ankle. She touched the tender flesh, then glanced up at her fake boyfriend. “I think I tweaked it.”
“Shit!” he whispered and scooped her up.
This caveman carrying routine was starting to feel remarkably normal.
“I can probably walk,” she said, bouncing as he sprinted out of the cottage and down the path toward the camp dining hall.
“No time!” he bit out, dodging rocks and muddy spots as the final bell rang.
One minute.
Jake huffed-it down the path as Fish was coming up.
“You’re the last two to breakfast,” he called with a wink.
Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!
Jake rounded the corner then slung open the dining hall’s old screen door. The hinges whined their protest as Jake thundered into the room like a wide receiver, leaping in the air to make a touchdown before the clock ran out, and all eyes landed on them.
“Good morning,” her grandfather said, raising an eyebrow.
He stood next to her grandmother at the front of the room as table upon table of Woolwiches and Woolwich family friends cocked their heads to check out the late arrivals.
“Did we make it?” Jake huffed on a winded breath.
“Barely,” her grandfather answered.
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br /> She scanned the room with an apologetic smile, but nobody looked all that surprised. And, of course, they didn’t. She was the screw-up Woolwich granddaughter.
But wait! She wasn’t—at least, not entirely.
She glanced up at her breathless fake boyfriend and plastered on a wide grin. “Hey, everyone! This is Jake.”
“Hi, Jake,” replied the room in unison.
“Does he ever let you walk?” Leslie asked from a table near the front of the room.
“I tweaked my ankle, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I could take a look,” Leo said, coming to his feet, but, as quickly as he popped up, he sat down and proceeded to study his oatmeal.
She glanced over to find her fake boyfriend, stone-faced, pinning the podiatrist with his gaze, and a grateful warmth flooded her chest. Jake was three for three on thwarting Leo’s attempts to go all foot freak on her.
She turned her attention to her grandparents. “Sorry we’re late, we were—”
“Having sex,” Lara supplied with the enthusiasm of a game show hostess. “I can only imagine that doing it multiple times a day really eats into your schedule.”
Leslie elbowed her sister. “Hush, Lara! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Nat glanced around the room. Thank God, the kids’ table was situated all the way back in the far corner of the dining hall. Despite a few little heads popping up to try to get a look over the sea of adults, she knew, from her many years being seated at that very table, that they probably didn’t hear Lara’s sex observation.
She recycled her apologetic grin. “No, we were about to leave when I tripped. That’s why we’re late.”
“We figured since we heard you guys at it, last night, maybe you were knocking another one out this morning,” Marcus chimed brightly as if he were remarking on the weather.
Nat stared at Lara and her husband. She should be embarrassed, but all she could do was wonder how the hell did these people treat actual medical conditions.
“Go on, you two, and take a seat. There are a few spots left at the kids’ table,” her grandmother said with an amused twinkle in her eye.
“Kids’ table?” Jake murmured under his breath.
The Kiss Keeper Page 9