by Lili Valente
Married to the Enemy
Lili Valente
To my readers. Thank you!
Contents
Married to the Enemy
About the Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sneak Peek
About the Author
Also by Lili Valente
Married to the Enemy
Bliss River Book Two
By Lili Valente
About the Book
To protect my baby, I’ll totally make out with the enemy…
Yeah, he’s that guy—my first love, Nash Geary, the heartbreaker I’ve spent a decade trying to forget. But now I’m back in Bliss River, facing an ugly custody battle with Mr. Bad Idea #2, and I’ll do anything to keep my baby girl safe.
Go into debt for a fancy lawyer? Check.
Hire a private detective to get dirt on my ex? Check.
Marry my nemesis to prove I can provide my baby with a loving, two-parent home? Um…check?
One too many beers at the county fair and suddenly Nash and I are on our way to the courthouse to tie the knot. He’ll get even after a rough break-up, I’ll prove my daughter is better off with me and my pillar-of-the-community, police chief husband, and we’ll end it amicably when I’m granted full custody—everybody wins.
But what happens when the lines between fantasy and reality begin to blur, Nash sweeps both me and my baby girl off our feet, and what started as pretend becomes the most important thing in my world?
They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer…
So what am I supposed to do with the fake husband I’m pretty sure is the love of my life?
Keep in touch with Lili!
Free book when you join Lili’s newsletter
Like Lili
Follow Lili on Bookbub
Follow Lili on Instagram
Chapter One
Aria
Twelve years ago
I slip through the woods on silent feet, my heartbeat louder than the cicadas buzzing and clicking in the trees.
It’s almost too dark to see the trail, I don’t have a flashlight, and being out of my cabin after lights out and on my way to meet a boy are both major camp handbook violations. If I’m caught, I’ll be kicked out. My mom and dad are on the Arts Council board, but not even that will spare me the ultimate punishment.
The staff here are really intense about following the rules.
And staying in bed after lights out.
And not kissing boys.
Or girls.
They frown—hard—at all varieties of kissing and displays of affection.
I should turn around. I really, really should.
I don’t want to be sent home. My friends are here, camp means another four weeks away from my bratty little sisters, Lark and Melody, and I’m having the time of my life sketching and painting and experimenting with new mediums during our five hours of daily art classes.
I love camp Arts Under the Elms. I love it like I love deep fried Twinkies at the fair and staying in my pajamas all weekend, and I wouldn’t put my future here at risk for anything.
Anything except him.
Nash Geary.
Just thinking his name is enough to make my blood fizzy. He is by far the most delicious boy I’ve ever met—taller than the other boys at camp by at least five inches, built like a contestant of an ancient Olympiad, with moody green eyes a shade lighter than mine and a silky Georgia drawl I can feel whispering over my skin like warm summer rain.
He is flat out, no holds barred, drop dead drool-worthy.
Every girl at camp had her eye on him the first day, but by the time we walked through the dinner line to pick up our burgers and hot dogs, Nash had made it clear he only had eyes for me. Me, the girl with the messy hair and skinny legs.
Not that I’m a complete wallflower.
I’ve dated my fair share of boys—especially considering I’m not allowed to go on car dates until I’m sixteen—but I’ve never been with someone as close to a full-grown man as Nash. I mean, I’m no dog—my skin is pale, but clear, and my hair finally darkened to auburn after a decade of impersonating an orange construction cone—but no matter how much I eat, I stay scrawny. And, shame of all my shames, I barely fill out an A cup.
Meanwhile, Nash is six foot four, muscled all over, with hands big enough to wrap all the way around my waist, and an air about him that practically screams “I know my way around vaginas.” I would bet my snow cone hut voucher tickets for the entire summer that he’s gone all the way with at least one girl, maybe more.
At first, I sort of wondered what he saw in me, a girl who still looks like a twelve-year old if I make the mistake of forgetting to slip the padding into my two-piece swimsuit.
But then we started talking and things just…clicked.
Within a few hours, we were cracking jokes like old friends, making each other laugh so hard we snorted Coke out of our noses, all over a watercolor I wasn’t even sad to lose because being with Nash was so much fun. By the third day, we were taking long walks during our free time after dinner—chatting about our lives back home and school and the bands we like and which paintings make our brains tingle. And by the fifth day we were stealing kisses behind the mess hall dumpsters before lights out.
And what kisses they were…
Just thinking about them makes my nerve endings hum and my feet move faster along the path, already anticipating the tingle inducing kiss waiting for me in the clearing where Nash is meeting me tonight.
Kissing Nash is heaven and hell all tangled up together, enough to make my soul light up with joy and my body ache with a hunger that’s almost painful.
But…deliciously painful.
Until now, I’ve only really been into kissing. It’s hard to get interested in much more in the back row of a movie theater or under the bleachers after school, and it’s not like any of the guys I’ve locked lips with were all that great at it.
But now…
Now I want Nash’s big hands to slide beneath my tee-shirt. I want to explore every inch of his skin with my fingertips, until I’ve memorized him so well I can sculpt him in ceramics class. And I want him to do the same. I want him to touch me wherever he wants, do whatever he wants, because I know anything I do with Nash will feel amazing, and so, so right.
It’s only been three weeks, but I’m ready for him to be my first. I can feel how much he cares about me, and I’ve never been so completely gone on a guy. In my secret thoughts, I used to imagine growing up to have a string of gorgeous lovers, each one more dashing and dangerous than the last. But now a part of me wonders what it would be like to find “the one” the first time around.
To spend my life wit
h only one man…
When the man in question is Nash, the possibility doesn’t seem boring. Not in the slightest.
I shiver as I reach the edge of the clearing and a large shadow separates from the darkness. A beat later, Nash’s voice rumbles through the trees, “Hey. There you are.”
“Here I am.” I grin, skipping the last few steps off the path and into his arms. He picks me up with a happy moan that vibrates through my bones, and then he kisses me, long and deep, until my breath is coming faster and that delicious hunger rises inside me again.
“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” he whispers against my mouth as his hands wander down to cup my bottom through my shorts.
An electric jolt surges through me in response.
God, he makes me crazy, so wonderfully, crazily crazy. “No,” I say, clinging tighter to his shoulders. “I just had to wait until Molly fell asleep. She was reading in her bunk forever.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you, and I’ve been dying to be alone with you.”
“Me, too,” I breathe, threading my fingers into his soft brown hair. “So much.”
We kiss for another long minute, or maybe a hundred minutes. All I know is that soon my head is spinning and my chest is aching and I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get more of him.
All of him.
I pull away, sucking in a ragged breath. “Did you bring something?”
“Something?” he echoes, his breath coming faster, too.
“Something…just in case.”
“In case…”
“In case we want to do more than kiss,” I whisper, my nerve endings buzzing.
I can’t tell if I’m nervous or excited or both, but I’ll feel better once I know we’re protected. I’m ready to be with Nash, but I’m not ready to be a mom. Not for a decade. Or more. Or maybe ever. There are so many adventures to be had and most of them don’t pair well with caring for an infant.
“Yes ma’am,” Nash drawls in that silky voice of his. “I brought a blanket from the storage room. It’s over here.” He takes my hand, drawing me deeper into the shadows.
As my eyes adjust, I make out the rectangular shape of a dark gray camp blanket spread out on the grass. Nash sits, guiding me down onto the blanket beside him and rolling me beneath him with a calm assurance that makes my blood pressure spike.
But when he moves to kiss me again, I put a finger to his lips.
“I didn’t mean the blanket,” I say, amazed by my own gumption. But if I’m really ready to go all the way, I should be brave enough to talk about protection, too. And I am, a fact I prove when I add in a softer voice, “I meant a condom.”
Nash pauses for a long second before he exhales. “Um, yeah… I have something. In my wallet, but I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” I ask.
The hesitation in his voice would make me anxious as hell in any other situation, but it’s impossible to feel anxious with Nash leaning protectively over me, his big hand running up and down my side.
“I didn’t think you wanted to tonight. I thought you would want to wait.”
“Do you want to wait?”
“Heck, no,” he says, with a soft laugh. “You make me crazy and you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, a sound filled with so much longing it makes me feel like the most desirable woman on the planet. “I want you so much it’s probably sinful, Aria, but…it’s your first time.”
“Does that make you nervous?” I bite my lip. I know some guys avoid virgins like the plague, thinking we’re going to get too clingy or something lame I’ve never quite understood.
I might be a virgin, but I’ve watched sexy movies and read every racy romance novel I could get my hands on. I know what goes on between a man and a woman. Yes, I’m sure the feelings can get intense, but I’m not going to be rendered idiotic because my privates and a boy’s privates meet up for the first time.
I’m inexperienced, not naïve, and my brain is just as much a part of this decision as the rest of me.
“A little,” Nash confesses. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I snuggle closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Could he be any sweeter? Or perfect? Or sexy? God, he’s so sexy, it makes my blood feel like honey oozing through my veins. “All you ever do is make me feel amazing. This won’t be any different.”
“Are you sure?” he presses. “I don’t mind waiting. I…”
“What?” I let my fingers play through his spiky hair, wishing I could see his eyes.
“I really like you. A lot. I don’t want this to just be a camp thing, you know? I want to see you after. Be with you after. Like…an official couple.”
“Me, too,” I say, smiling so wide it makes my cheeks hurt.
Nash and I haven’t talked about anything long term, but I’ve had all my fingers and toes crossed this would happen. Sure, we go to different schools and live on opposite sides of town—me in a cookie cutter subdivision, Nash out in the country—but that doesn’t mean we can’t make a relationship work.
“I don’t have a lot of time during the week,” he says, a smile in his voice that makes me grin even harder. “I have football most afternoons and help out with my brothers and sisters at night, but I could come to Bliss River every Sunday.”
“And I could come out and help you babysit when I don’t have art class after school,” I say, catching his excitement for our future. “I’ve got my permit and Dad said I could borrow the truck once I turn sixteen.”
“I’d like that,” he says, before adding in a voice that completely melts my heart, “I’d like as much of you as I can get.”
“How about all of me?” I ask, wondering if this is what love feels like. If it isn’t, then love must be some insanely serious stuff.
Because this…
This is…magic.
“I’m not scared.” I cup his cheek in my hand. “I care about you so much, and I know what I want.”
Nash’s breath hitches in a way that makes me feel beautiful and powerful and so drunk with needing him I vow to beg him to get naked with me, if that’s what it takes.
“On one condition,” he finally says. “We’re a couple. Exclusive. It’s official. You’re my girl.”
“Yes,” I whisper, suddenly feeling shy.
I’ve never had a boyfriend like this before, one who made it clear being a couple meant something to him, that this was a commitment more serious than most casual, high school connections.
Hearing Nash call me “his girl,” is intimate, possessive, and completely irresistible.
“And you’re my man,” I say.
His husky sound of approval sends a thrill rushing through me, giving me the courage to whisper, “Now, will you make love to me?”
He doesn’t say a word, but the next second he’s kissing me so hard and deep that, soon, his breath is my breath and I swear I can feel his heartbeat echoing in my chest.
A beat later, his hand slides beneath my shirt, making every cell in my body zing. Not long after my shirt is off and he’s kissing me in places no boy has ever kissed me before and it is…mind-blowing.
Life changing. More pure, sweet magic.
My head spins and my fingers fist in Nash’s hair as he kisses and licks and, God, the things he does to me. The way it makes me feel. It’s more incredible, more intoxicating than I’ve ever imagined.
Soon, his hand dips beneath the waistband of my gym shorts, down until he finds the place where I want him so badly. And then his fingers begin to move, building the tension inside of me until I’m panting, moaning, my every muscle going tense as he trails hot kisses down my neck. I’m so close, so desperately close that my eyes are squeezed tight.
So tight that I don’t see the flashlights coming through the woods until it’s too late.
Too late to cover up or run or do anything else to avoid being caught in a very compromising position.
Chapter Two
Aria
After scrambling back into our clothes in front of the camp directors—by far the most mortifying, scarring experience of my entire fifteen and three-quarters years on earth—we’re taken to the office and forced to sit silently on opposite sides of the room to wait for our parents to arrive.
Nash’s face is bright pink with embarrassment, but I’m sure I look way worse. A glance in the mirror near the door confirms that I’m flushed redder than a baboon’s backside, but I know better than to ask to go to the bathroom to splash water on my flaming, redheaded face.
Phil and Bea, the co-directors, made it clear the only place Nash and I are going is home—immediately. We won’t even have a chance to say goodbye to our friends.
Or each other, I’m afraid.
Every time our eyes meet, Nash telegraphs an apology my way. I try to telegraph, “It’s okay, it’s not your fault, we can’t let this tear us apart,” but I’d feel so much better if I had the chance to say all of that with actual words.
So he knows I don’t blame him for anything.
And that I still desperately want to be his girl.
In what seems like forever and also no time at all, Nash’s mom is at the office door, stepping through onto the faded brown carpet.
She isn’t at all what I was expecting. She’s tiny, for one thing—only coming up to the middle of Nash’s chest—and wearing bleached blue jeans that haven’t been fashionable in decades and a faded Bliss River Blues Fest tee shirt. Her thin brown hair is pulled into a ponytail and her face is so pale I can make out the pathways of her veins around her sunken eyes. She looks exhausted, the kind of tired you know runs deeper than the fact that she’s been awakened in the middle of the night.