by B. B. Miller
Sean swears under his breath. “The pictures?”
“The pictures.” The breeze picks up and a wave of goose bumps rises on my forearms. “He’d heard they were being shopped to one of my dad’s political opponents. I’d only been in New York a few months. I was trying to establish my shop and it was slow going. My first clients were friends of my parents and their recommendations were helping get the word out. The photos would’ve ruined everything, everything I ever wanted as well as my father’s career.”
“But, again, my father handled it. He had Dale retain a cybersecurity team to destroy those copies, and they’re still on the job. They scan constantly. Every once in a while, I’ll get a text from Dale, letting me know another image was found and deleted. Because of my father, no one knows what happened; no one will see me…like that.” I swipe at my suddenly blurry eyes. “I owe my father everything.”
“I can see why you feel that way.” He sighs, shifting against my body, and I can feel his eyes on me. “But, Cass, some would say he’s only doing what a father would do. What a father should do. He’s protecting his daughter. You don’t owe him anything.”
“But I do!” I twist in the hammock and grab his shirt as I look at him. The concern and worry I see swimming in his emerald eyes almost kills me. “In my family, we were raised on doing things ourselves. Being accountable and responsible for our own actions. It was drilled into us. If you get yourself into a mess, it’s on you to sort out. Don’t expect anyone else to fix it. During that week after, after what happened, it was killing me that even after all my precautions, it still happened. And I couldn’t see how to fix it, how to protect my family. That my father had to step in is so…humiliating. Almost more than what happened was. I’ll never be able to repay him.”
A frown tugs at his lips. “Not sure I agree with that, but we’ll set that aside for now. How does all this fit in with what’s-his-name?”
“Jack.” I huff in frustration. “Marrying Jack would solve everything. It would pay my father back for everything he’s done for me, and it would solve Jack’s own family issues. It’s a win-win.”
“Oh, for the love of God. And I thought Three had the worst family guilt I’d ever seen,” he mutters and climbs out of the hammock before I can stop him. But instead of leaving, he wheels around to face me, eyes alight with…something. “Do you love him?”
“What? No. No, but that doesn’t matter. He—”
“Of course it matters!” He rolls his eyes and looks heavenward for a moment. “I may have been upset Kennedy ran off and got married without telling me, but I can’t fault him, not really. He and Abby are meant to be together. The same as Matt and Tess, and Cam and Sam. My parents. Even Syd and that git, Philip.” He rakes a hand through his hair and fixes me with an intense stare. “Are you telling me your perceived obligation to your father is truly big enough to marry someone you don’t love?”
A shadow falls over me. “Well, I did, kind of,” I mutter, sitting up awkwardly in the hammock. “Hearing you say it like that though…” He grunts in satisfaction and crosses his arms. I glare at him. “It would only be for a few years. Lots of people get married for worse reasons. I like Jack. He’s kind and smart and would never do anything to hurt me. And we wouldn’t even need to live in the same city.”
Sean gapes at me. “Why the hell not?”
“We wouldn’t be, um, intimate,” I say primly, staring at my hands gripping the edge of the hammock. With every word, the realization of how ridiculous this is hits me square in the face, but I keep going. Out of stubbornness or denial that Sean’s right, I’m not sure which. “He’d go his way and I’d go mine. Discreetly, of course.”
“Oh, of course. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.” Sean stomps a few feet away, waving his arms. Thank God we’re alone. “You can’t possibly think he’s serious about that. He’d have to be an idiot not to want to sleep with you.” He whirls around, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. “Or gay.” I keep a blank expression as I fight to keep my promise to Jack, and he shakes his head and stomps back, still flailing. “Whatever. You’re not thinking straight, Fly-girl. A sham marriage to make your parents happy? This isn’t the sixteenth century, you know.”
“Lucky for you.” I wave a hand at him standing there with his hands on his hips like a petulant twelve-year-old girl. “They’d lock you up for having hair like that.”
He squints at me, a slow flush creeping up his neck. “So what happened to experimenting, just you and me?” he demands, and I feel a twinge in my heart. “Are you expecting me to creep into your bed at night when no one’s looking? Will I be your dirty little secret on the side?”
“Of course not. I know you could never do that.” I twist the rope under my hands, my stomach churning. “Look, I didn’t mean to just blurt everything out like that. Only a handful of people know what happened to me. Not even Riya knows. But, you needed to know why, why I’m considering this,” I say, knowing I sound like I’m begging. I want him to understand, even if he can’t agree with me.
He purses his lips. “Considering. Not decided?”
“Not decided,” I say, wondering what’s whizzing around under that violet hair. “But—”
“Fine.” He grabs my hand, hauls me out of the hammock, and roughly swings me over his shoulder before I can blink, knocking the air out of me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I squawk, after sucking in a breath.
Spinning us around, he stalks off through the trees toward the tent. “Seizing the day,” he announces, and then smacks my bottom, making me yelp. “Since you’re so fond of ancient courtship rites, I thought I’d remind you what I have to offer. Think of it as a duel for your favor—and I think you’ll like how I swing my sword.”
Murphy’s Law No. 21: Sometimes, you need to be hit over the head with a different perspective.
Sean
“YOU KNOW, I’VE GOT THE perfect solution to your problem,” I mutter against Cassidy’s ear as she arches her back, her hand slipping down the headboard.
“If it involves stopping what you’re doing, you can shut up.” Always such a cheeky girl. Even with me, fucking her from behind in this tent, she finds a way to keep up the sass.
I tighten my hand against her plump arse before delivering a firm slap; the sound magnified in the confines of the tent. “I’m being serious.”
“Hmpfff. Oh God, do that again.” She’s all breathless and in this moment, all fucking mine. Only she’s not really. Not even remotely mine. Not when there’s this cloud of a sham proposal hanging over us.
“You mean do this?” My teeth sink into the buttery smooth skin of her shoulder, right over the little mole that sits there as my palm smacks over her delicious arse once more.
“God, yes.”
“See?” I whisper under her ear. “That’s the answer I want. It’s the answer to my perfect solution.”
Her fingers claw at my hip, trying to tug me faster against her. “Less talking, more of this.”
“You love my voice. You can’t get enough, and you know it.” Maybe this time, she’ll actually agree with me. Her meeting each thrust of my hips tells me she has to feel something more than she lets on.
“You’re so full of it,” she grinds out, and I can’t resist landing my palm against her backside again.
“I’d say you’re the one full of it at the moment, sweetheart.” I’m trying to hang on to a thread of control, but it’s slipping. I feel her shudder around my throbbing cock, and I know she’s close. She’s a muttering, incoherent mess as my fingers reach around to strum a beat against her clit.
Heat surges through me as she cries out in that moment I crave; where she falls apart and lets her guard down. I lose myself in her. Clutching at her hips, my muscles are wrought with tension, and I try like hell to keep us both from falling—into where and what, who the fuck knows.
We’re panting, shattered, and spent; the sweat trickles down my back. She lets me have her li
ps. It doesn’t take long for her to move, pressing forward as I roll my hips back to ease from that sweet pussy and deal with the condom. I’m wrecked, unable to form a coherent thought, and she carries on just fine, reaching over for a glass of sparkling water as if we haven’t just fucked like my world is coming to an end.
“So, about that solution you mentioned?” she asks, all business. She pushes up and leans back against the headboard; the sheets fall to reveal those sweet breasts. She’s trying to act all nonchalant, but that flush to her cheeks, her hitched breaths, and the way her eyes rake over me as I move back to the bed and kneel beside her, give her away.
“Marry me.”
That stops her dead, the glass stilling in front of her lips. Those blue-gray eyes that slay me widen in shock. And then, she bursts out laughing. “You really are a nut job, you know?”
“I’m serious.” Perhaps for the first time in my life—one hundred percent serious. This woman has fallen into my world and rocked it. I’m not prepared to let her go—not now, not ever.
“Sure you are.” She leans back, taking a sip of water, making her nipples perk for me. I can’t help leaning forward to pull a sweet bud into my mouth.
“One hundred percent serious,” I mumble against her heavenly scented skin. Her fingers grab into my hair, and she tugs my head up, her eyes searching mine.
“You’ve lost whatever was left of your mind.”
“Come on. You feel some sort of insane obligation to pay back your father. He’s picked this twit—”
“Jack. His name is Jack.” She smiles behind her glass.
I wave her off. “Whatever. His name is irrelevant. He’s picked him because he’s rich, politically connected, and wants to donate a fuck-ton of money to his campaign, but you feel nothing whatsoever for the bastard.”
“Thanks for the update.” Her voice is hollow as she leans over to set the glass down. She stares back at me; the fire in the pit outside crackling.
“I’m a much better plan.”
“You’re a drummer in a rock and roll band, followed by the paparazzi and screaming fans daily. Right… that wouldn’t attract any attention at all.”
“Do I need to remind you of who my father is?”
She reaches between us, tugging the sheets up to cover that perfect body. She tucks the sheet in under her arms, crossing them over her chest. Another coat of armor donned.
“Does it matter?”
“Course it does.”
She rolls her eyes and lands her gaze deliberately at my cock. “Cover that up.”
“Can’t concentrate, love?” I can’t hide the grin as I straddle her hips.
I can see her hesitate, her eyes searching mine, and I grab onto the only glimmer of hope I have. “If you’ll recall, my father runs a political office in the UK.” She narrows her eyes in suspicion. “You want political connections? I know the queen. I could introduce your father. Maybe start some sort of Wyoming-British collaboration.”
“Bullshit you know the queen.”
Setting my hand over the tattoo of the flag on my chest, I stare back at her bewildered face. “I swear. Even named one of her corgis.”
She shakes her head. “There is no way you named one of the queen’s corgis.”
“Damn straight I did. Also, I hosted her grandson’s bachelor party a few years back, you know? The future King of England? The world will never know what happened that night. You want to talk about a scandal. I can totally keep my mouth shut when it’s warranted.”
I wish I had a camera for her expression. “You did what?”
“Attended the wedding as well. A bit over the top for my tastes, and the meal was subpar, but our wedding will be epic.”
She juts her chin out, tightening the sheet against her chest. “We’re not getting married.”
“But it’s the perfect solution.”
Her lips twitch in amusement. “Two proposals in a week. Not in a million years could I have imagined that happening.”
“I could. Just look at you. A man would be a fool to not want to be your husband.”
She slides her hand against my cheek. “You know, when you’re not being completely ridiculous, you’re incredibly sweet.”
I turn my head to press a kiss to her palm and hold it in mine. “Come on. It will be fun. Think of it as another experiment. A lifelong experiment.”
“Marriage isn’t an experiment. It’s not supposed to be fun or a joke, Sean. It’s serious, and I don’t think you have a serious bone in your body.”
“I like how you’re talking about my body. Keep doing that.” I pluck the sheet from her hand to tug it away, exposing her to me once more. “And if it’s not fun, why the hell do it? You want to be miserable your whole life?”
She tips her head, amusement in her eyes. “It’s interesting how your mind works. I appreciate the offer, even though it’s beyond insane. But, I’m not ready to marry anyone.”
I sit back, holding her gaze. “Not even Jack?”
She blows out a long breath. “No. Not Jack. You’re right about that. I need to stop thinking I owe my father.” Her fingers trace absently along the ink of my forearm, tracking the veins I know she loves so much. Relief floods through me; the jealous rage that took over when we were on the hammock and she told me about Jack’s asinine proposal fades away. “I’m grateful to him, of course. I’m not sure I’d be where I am without him.”
“Now that’s just bullshit. You’re an amazingly talented designer. That’s got nothing to do with your father.”
“If he hadn’t stepped in, those pictures would’ve been out there. It could’ve ruined me before I even got a chance to start.”
Shaking my head, I tighten my hand against hers. “The thing about scandals is: there’s always another one, lurking around the corner.” I can’t resist reaching to brush back her messed-up hair. “Darling, it would’ve been a shitshow, but I guarantee you it would be forgotten just as quickly. No scandal can take away from who you are. Not if you don’t let it.”
I can see how much this still hurts her. If I’m not mistaken, there are tears threatening in those eyes of hers and that kills me. I want to take this away, make her forget—permanently—about what happened to her, and make her understand it wasn’t her fault.
“Whenever you’re ready, I’d be a kick-ass husband.” I can see her bite back a smile, and I tighten my hand against her hip. “Sex whenever you wanted. I’d buy you shit, could take you around the world. Money is no object.”
She lets out a little laugh. “I have money. I can buy my own shit, as you so eloquently put it, and can get sex whenever I want it now.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Those aren’t the reasons people get married, Sean. Not even close.”
“Neither are the reasons good ole Jack gave you. You tell me, then. Why do you get married?” I slide in beside her, biting back a groan as she tucks in under my arm, her fingers resting against my stomach. “What is it you want?”
She peeks up at me and rests her chin on my chest. “To share my life. I don’t need a piece of paper to do that. It’s not that I’m against marriage… I’m just not sure what I want right now.”
Cupping her face between my hands, I lower my lips to hover against hers. “We’d have a great life, you know.”
“I know.” Her voice is so quiet, I almost can’t hear it. Somewhere along the way, any notions of “experiments” have been blown away. This is real. She feels it just as I do. The question is what the hell are we going to do about it.
“You’ll tell him tonight?” I ask against her lips. I can feel her smile into the kiss before she pulls back. I’m leaning against the bike outside her shop. She’s been delivered back and in time for her fitting with the bridezilla as requested. See? I can be responsible.
Sleep-warm morning sex is the best, I’ve decided. I wanted to wrap her up in that bed in that tent and never let her leave. The ferry ride back was torturous, with my chest pressed to her back as we watched our little
island oasis get farther and farther away.
“Reality waits,” she kept saying this morning. I don’t think she realizes this could be our reality. Her and me and whatever we want to do—all day, every day.
“Tell Jack, you mean?” she teases, and I give her side a pinch. She jumps away with a squeal.
“Don’t test me, Fly-girl. That man needs to know you’re not now, nor will you ever be, his.” It’s almost a growl. “I thought that was established last night.”
“Aren’t you the possessive one?” She backs up and tugs her bike from me.
“Who knew, hmm?”
“Oh, I had a feeling,” she calls back to me over her shoulder. “Thank you again, Sean. I had an amazing time.” She’s said that more than once, but fuck if it doesn’t make me feel like a champion. “I’ll text you later on.” Giving me a wave, she steers her bike into the shop, the little bells chiming above when the door closes and shuts me out once more.
“And you couldn’t have waited? I mean, where’s the fucking loyalty, mate? We have been waiting forever for you two to tie the knot, and we’re just shut out! Cast aside like commoners!” I wave my hand at the camera as I sit on video conference with Kennedy, Matty, and Cameron.
“Calm down, man. It’s not a big deal.” The asshole Kennedy smirks… he actually smirks at me from whatever tropical paradise he’s currently lounging in on his honeymoon. His honeymoon! Goddamn bastard.
“Not a big deal? Not a big fucking deal? Are you hearing this, Matty? You know what, Lane, fuck you. Fuck you hard! This is a big deal. Life changing, if you want to know the truth. How could you not invite us?”
“Jesus, would you take a breath?” Matty chuckles at me.
“Wise words there, Matty,” Cameron chimes in. “Sean, look at it this way: we can have a party when they’re back.”
Cameron’s suggestion gives me pause, and I glare at the screen. “A party?”
“Yeah, you know? The whole gang together. There’s a lot to celebrate,” Cameron says.