“You really think we’ve got a decent chance?”
He grinned. “We’re going to win.” He eyed the horizon. “Come on, Lola. Let’s catch a few more and head to the motel. I can show you my real talents.”
Why did he seem intent on teasing me? Did he not get it that we were not an item? “Shut up.” The next wave rolled toward me, and I whipped my board around. I caught the breaker before he could see the heat that had traveled to my face. Dang it. If this were a fantasy world, I’d screw Justice’s brains out no questions asked and enter that delicious world of sexual bliss that only Justice could provide. I’d never forgotten the way his hands felt on my ass as he slid into my pulsating pussy, his blue eyes gazing into mine until we both came in an earth-shattering orgasm.
But this was reality.
A bizarre, alternate universe reality.
Everything we had was temporary and fake.
We ended our session, pulled off wetsuits, stowed our boards, and clambered back into the van.
We drove alongside the glittering expanse of the Pacific and I inhaled the refreshing ocean air, smiling. I looked over the dramatic cliff, watching the seagulls swooping overhead as the sun made its slow descent into the sea.
Justice was right. I did need a vacation. All I did was work at the bank, create more bathing suit designs, and now and then, go on a pathetic date with some wannabe surfer who could never keep up with me.
Eventually, Justice took a sharp right onto a cracked asphalt parking lot. He patted the dashboard. “Home, sweet home.”
I laughed when I took in the modest motel screaming for a fresh coat of paint. “The Seaside Inn,” a faded blue and white sign announced.
“You sure know how to treat a lady,” I said.
“You wait here. I’ll get us the honeymoon suite.” He twirled the keychain and jogged away.
Justice returned with a grin and opened the passenger’s door of the van with a flourish and a bow. “After you, my bride.”
We were directed to cabin number seven by a woman who looked like she’d been weaned on a dill pickle—until she found out we were on our honeymoon. Her hands flew to ruddy cheeks. “Well! We haven’t had newlyweds in ages. I’ll bring over a cheese plate. Congratulations you two!”
Before I had a chance to protest, Justice picked me up easily in his firm grip. My long hair flew forward, tickling his face. He looked into my eyes. “Custom says I get to carry you over the threshold.”
“Put me down!” He whirled me around, and his powerful arms cradled me as my heart sped up. I stared into his electric blue eyes and forced a deep, steadying breath.
“Over the threshold you go.”
The door closed, he set me down, and we were alone.
Seventeen
Lola
This was it.
Alone.
In a motel room with Justice.
I needed to take control.
With a confidence I didn’t feel I lifted my chin and forced myself into business mode.
“Here’s the deal.” I counted off the rules. “No jerking off in the shower.” I moved to the bed. “Stay on your side of the bed.” I ripped the acrylic bedspread off. “I brought my feather comforter so don’t even think about stealing the covers.” I moved to the medicine cabinet. “I get the top shelves, you get the bottom.”
“Any other rules? Shall I order a five-star dinner?”
A sharp rap on the door interrupted us, and the motel manager handed Justice a cheese plate along with a bottle of red wine. “You sweethearts enjoy.”
“Check it out,” Justice said, placing the plate on the tiny dining table. “Velveeta’s made it to northern California.” He inspected the label of the wine bottle. “At least it’s not Ripple.”
“Gimme that thing.” I grabbed the bottle. A cheap buzz was just what I needed. With shaking hands, I rummaged through a drawer in the kitchenette and handed Justice the corkscrew. “Will you do the honors?”
We settled in at the kitchen table and dove in. Justice poured glasses of wine, prepared a cracker with cheese, and handed it to me with a flourish. “Life’s always better with a Ritz.”
I took a bite of the delicious treat and a long bolt of wine. My legs went wobbly, and I finally relaxed.
Justice wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set his wine glass down. “Been keeping your dad updated on our trip?”
“Yep.”
“How’s he doing?”
I smiled thinking of my crazy father and his penchant for high-risk big wave surfing. “Still driving Coco crazy with his surfing stuff. She’s come around though. She loves him, you know.” I picked up a cracker and studied it. “I guess love’s like that. She wants him to be happy.” I took another sip of wine.
Justice eyed me intently. “Are you happy, Lola?”
I nearly choked on a cracker and washed it down with the heavenly wine. “Of course I am. I’ve got a job that pays the rent, a great online business. I keep busy.”
“Can I ask you something?”
My heartbeat sped up, and I rolled my eyes. “Have at it.”
He set his wine glass down and held my hand. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d stayed together?”
No. No way did I want to have this conversation. My hand stiffened, and I looked away. “Not really,” I lied. “We were just a couple of kids back then.” I gave him a nervous smile. “You needed to get away and do your own thing. I get it.”
I did not get it.
“I grew up in that crazy big city in Brazil,” I continued, “so our little town has always felt like paradise to me. Like I could breathe again.”
He let go of my hand. “It can be gossipy. You know. That whole fiasco with Devin’s dad.” He sighed, and his blue eyes searched mine. “What about a boyfriend? How come you don’t have one?”
“How do you know I don’t?”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Just a wild guess. Figured he’d be all over you for marrying your ex.” He gave me a devilish grin. “Now, about that honeymoon.”
I kicked his foot. “Get over yourself already.” I needed to change the subject. And fast. “What about you? Where’s your bevy of babes? I’ll bet they’re lined up.”
He inspected his fingernails. “I’ve dated some. Mostly keep to myself.”
“Hashtag memyselfandI?”
“Something like that.”
His gaze traveled back to my face, and he stared at me so long that I finally looked away. Then he smiled. “Remember that time you and I skipped school because the waves were so good?”
“Which time?”
He laughed and leaned forward, his fingers trailing across my arm. “We got pretty good at outsmarting the principal, didn’t we?”
I tapped my foot. “When the waves were good yep.”
“And remember all the times we snuck out in the middle of the night so we could make out down at the beach?”
I crossed my arms and looked out the window. “That was a long time ago.”
“Feels like yesterday.”
Why was he talking like this? “Do you really think you can make up for years of abandoning me with a trip down memory lane?”
“That was my hope.”
“Yeah, well, a lot has changed.”
He tilted his head to the side, and his warm fingers softly touched my arm. “Help me understand. What is it you really want out of life?”
This was a subject I could talk about. I rubbed my hands together. “My own shop.” I smiled inwardly when I thought of the thrill I got every time I sat down at my sewing machine to create my latest masterpiece. “People always ask where I get my design ideas. The truth is I have way too many ideas and not enough time.”
I squinted my eyes seeing my dream shop in my mind’s eye. “If I had my own shop, I’d have racks of my designer suits, some hip surf music playing, and nice, scented candles so when the customers walk in they’d feel at home. I even have some ideas for
home décor. You know. Stuff like curtains and rugs.”
His gaze became enthusiastic. “That sounds awesome.”
I picked up my wine glass, took a sip, then tipped the glass and studied its swirling contents. “I’ve checked into a few locations in town. The rent’s kind of high though.” I set the glass down with a sigh. “I guess that’s why I’m here.” I gave him a shaky smile. “The contest money’s not a fortune, but it’d be enough for me to launch.”
“Oh, Lola. You should do it.”
Then he sat back and took another slug of wine. I could tell that Justice was getting a buzz because his shoulders relaxed and his voice became softer. “What about us?”
A spike of adrenaline jolted through my system. “What about us?”
“You know.” He pointed from himself to me. “Think we have a chance?”
I stammered out my reply. “We’re here to train. That’s all. You know this is just an arrangement. We’re old friends, right? Can we just leave it at that? Stop pressuring me already.”
He nodded. It was a slow nod, and a lock of his chocolaty brown hair spilled over his eyes. He brushed it back with one powerful hand. “Yep.” He stared at me for long, mesmerizing seconds. “Seriously, Lola. Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
I took another long sip of wine, the alcohol spreading pleasantly through my veins. Why not tell him the truth? “I don’t need some dude getting in my panties and leaving me.” I looked away. “Hurts too much.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I won’t ever be able to make that up to you, I know. Why’s life got to be so damn complicated?” He sat back and eyed me dreamily. “I miss you.”
Oh shit. I needed to put up my armor. “You miss screwing me.” I pursed my lips and took a deep breath through my nose trying to calm the heartbeat that had suddenly become a runaway freight train.
I wanted Justice. I wanted him as a friend and playmate. But dang. The way he sat here in front of me with his sexy faded jeans pulled low, his surf T-shirt fitting snugly over his broad shoulders and chest, the way he was making me feel comfortable like we’d picked up where we’d left off made me want him. Maybe it was the wine that made desire course through me. But maybe it was Justice. I craved him.
Badly.
I wanted him to bend me over the bed, pull up my skirt and sink his throbbing cock inside me until I screamed. But no way would I allow that. It would be way too dangerous.
This was going to be a long trip.
I crossed my legs tightly and distracted myself by picking up my iPhone and scrolling through the messages. He looked over my shoulder. “Cheating on me already? Who’s Charles?”
“Put your glasses on. It’s Charlene you dumbo. From Mystic Seaweed.” I told him about my opportunity. “She received my sketches.” I gave him a wicked grin. “And is reviewing them.”
“Awesome.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, his gaze taking a leisurely tour of my body. “I like the way you turned out, babe. You’re smart, sexy, and creative.” A slow, lazy, alcohol-infused smile spread across his face. “I think I did good marrying you.” He hesitated a few beats. “You know, we’re alone. And it is our honeymoon.”
I stood up fast, picked up a pillow and smacked him upside the shoulder. “Quit teasing me, you idiot.” He lunged for the pillow, and I whipped it out of his reach.
He grabbed his own pillow. “Mrs. Hamilton, you are a dead woman,” and he smacked me hard on the butt. Next thing I knew, we were in a rip-roaring pillow fight.
My eyes became crazed as I went for his back with the pillow, but I couldn’t stop laughing. “You better not mess with me!”
His face took on a comical look, his eyes wide as he held his pillow back ready to wallop me good. “Oh yeah? And what happens if I do?”
“Then you’ll … you’ll be pushing up daisies.” I whacked him again.
Finally, we wore ourselves out, and the laughter died down.
I held the pillow tightly to my chest, my breath heaving, a few wisps of hair stuck to my face. I surveyed the room. Polyester fiberfill was everywhere, and both of us were out of breath. “I think we better get some sleep.”
“Five o’clock does come awful early.”
“Five? It’s still dark then.”
“You want to win or not?”
“Fine.”
He set down his pillow, and when he bent over, the back of his shirt rode up, and I saw those gorgeously toned muscles. Jesus Cristo, how was I going to make it through the night?
He pulled back the bed sheet and winked. “I should warn you. I sleep naked.”
At the thought of Justice’s bare body, my stomach felt all fluttery. I stared at him for a moment too long, my throat tight. His hair was messed up from our pillow fight, and his tight cotton T-shirt clung to his body accentuating every inch of his rock hard torso.
I turned on my heel. “Yeah, well I don’t. Call the desk and have them bring extra pillows. They’ll go straight down the middle.” I pointed my index finger his way. “And no groping allowed.”
He mimicked me, acting like I was an old lady, and I threw another pillow at him. “I’m taking a shower.”
I stripped down in the bathroom and stepped under the warm cascade of water. Pinpricks of spray hit my nipples, and a feeling of warmth filled my pussy. What would be the harm in a sexual fantasy? My nipples grew hard as I succumbed to my erotic thoughts.
Oh, yeah! Justice was right on the other side of the door. That only added to the excitement of an illicit orgasm.
I closed my eyes and thought of Justice’s hard body pressed up against mine. In my fantasy, he stood behind me, reached around and stroked my breasts. I felt his hot breath on my neck. “Touch yourself, Lola. I want to feel you come.”
My fingers moved to my clit where I made delicious circular motions just the way I liked it. When I was nice and swollen, I sank two fingers inside my hot pussy hole while grinding my clit against my palm. The water gushed over my body as I imagined Justice’s hot mouth going down on me. “I love the way you taste.” In my erotic fantasy, he stood up until his face was in front of mine and his blue eyes were half-lidded with lust. “Touch yourself, you sexy thing. Make yourself come.”
I stroked myself, my hips grinding, my fingers moving between my warm center and my clit, the other hand moving to my nipples, giving them tortuous squeezes.
I kept this up for a while and the intensity built, a slow burn as I thought of Justice’s mouth, his big hard cock, his gloriously sexy eyes gazing into mine.
Oh shit. I was coming. The contractions squeezed hard around my fingers, and my head lolled back in pleasure as the waves overtook me, my legs shaking. The powerful spasms started at my clit, moved to my pelvis and traveled through me, up my spine sending tingles through every nerve in my body until I was filled with deep warmth. I shuddered, and then went limp, my wet hair hanging forward over my face.
There was a sharp rap on the bathroom door. “Hurry it up! You’re using all the hot water.”
My eyes snapped open. Holy mother of … “Okay!” I squeaked. “Almost done.”
I shakily returned to reality, exited the shower, toweled off, threw on my oversized nightshirt, and pulled on my panties.
When I emerged from the bathroom Justice sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes tracked my every move. “Go on, get in bed.” His face took on an almost apologetic look. “And I promise to be a good boy.”
I gave him a little salute as I passed, not wanting to make eye contact.
Justice entered the bathroom, and the next sound I heard was the shower running.
With a big exhale I slid into bed and snapped off the lamp, gazing sightlessly into the dark room.
But I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Justice naked under the rain of water. Was he touching himself too?
The shower finally ceased, and I listened intently for every sound my fake husband made. The brushing of teeth, his soft whistle.
Justice’s side of the bed dipped as he eased in, a mountain of pillows between us. His hand reached over and softly patted my shoulder. “Good night, Mrs. Hamilton.”
I murmured a return good night. It didn’t take long before the next thing I heard was Justice softly snoring.
How could he be so casual about the fact that we were only inches apart? How could he fall asleep so quickly?
My throat felt uncomfortably dry, and I forced myself to match my breathing to his, inhaling and exhaling in sync.
Finally, my body relaxed, and I began to drift off. But the thoughts I’d been trying to tamp down rose to the surface.
Swirly images of Justice and I making love while we gazed into each other’s eyes hijacked my consciousness. Stop it! I was here for the contest, and that was it.
I inhaled and exhaled, matching my breath to that of my mate. My mate? Where did that come from? I wasn’t comfortable with that term. Not comfortable at all.
The last thing I thought of before drifting off to dreamland were the words Justice and I had always told each other as kids: You’re pretty much my most favorite of all time in the history of ever.
Eighteen
Justice
“The Hungry Man breakfast?” I tore the menu out of Lola’s hand and read out loud. “Four pancakes, four link sausages, three farm fresh eggs, your choice of toast or biscuit.” I handed the menu back to her. “How about a side of cardiac arrest?”
She smiled demurely. “I need my strength.”
Last night had been one hell of an exercise in self-control. The only way I’d gotten through was by jerking off in the shower to the thought of my lovely Brazilian wife.
Damn. When I’d soaped up and stroked my hard cock I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that turned on. My dick immediately sprang into action, the shaft hard as a rock. My heart beat wildly as I thought of Lola’s pouty, porn star lips. I wanted to kiss those luscious lips. Wanted to feel her tongue in my mouth as I rubbed her big tits.
Riptide of Romance: A Fake Marriage Sports Romance (Pleasure Point Series) Page 11