The Virgin’s Fake Fiance

by Kim Loraine

  My phone buzzes from my pocket as a call comes through. I can't even think about talking to someone on the phone right now. My only focus is Charity. But then I remember my staff and the non-existent warning I gave them about my sudden departure. It could be Clara calling, worried about me. I pull the phone from my pocket and stare at the screen, heart racing. It's a Montana number.

  "Charity?" I say, voice tighter than I want.

  "I'm sorry. I just couldn't do it anymore."

  "You left."

  "I know I shouldn't have bailed on you. We had a deal, and I left you in a lurch, but, Lincoln, I’m feeling too much, and you lied to me about who you were. I can't set myself up for that much heartache."

  I listen to her words, but I also take in the sounds coming from the background. An espresso machine steaming milk, kids laughing, a small dog barking. Then an announcement over the PA, "Passenger Carlos Talavera, please come to gate C-8."

  The same announcement plays where I am, and I know she's close.

  "I don't want you to leave. Please, love. I can explain."

  "No. It wasn't real. I know that, but it was starting to feel that way for me. It's better if we don't see each other again."

  I walk quickly, following the sounds until I see her, facing away from me, the diamond engagement ring still glittering on her finger. "You stole my grandmother's ring," I say, and I watch as she holds her left hand to her face.

  "Oh, shit, I did. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

  Closing the distance between us, I hang up and tap her on the shoulder. "Excuse me, miss."

  She turns and shock colors her expression. "Lincoln?"

  "I can't let you leave."

  My sweet girl's eyes fill with tears as she slides her phone back into her pocket and moves to take off the ring. "I'm sorry. I forgot I was wearing it."

  "No. Don't you dare take off that ring until I say what I need to say."

  She stops, and I take her hand. "I shouldn't have kept the truth from you. I was an enormous arse. But people don't know me for my title here. It's part of the reason I left the UK and came to America. I don't want to be Lord Harper. That's my brother's job. I'm so far removed from that life, and it was important for me to know you didn’t like me solely because of that.”

  “So you were just going to blindside me when I got to your family castle?”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s an estate, not a castle.”

  “Semantics,” she mutters.

  “I planned to tell you on the plane. I didn’t want you to get spooked and leave before our time was up.”

  “And I did exactly that, didn’t I?”

  “You did, but I deserved it. I should’ve known there was a chance someone would be able to tell who I was. Especially with the royal wedding business over the last year. My family has been in the spotlight quite a great deal more than normal.”

  “It’s not just the fact that you lied. It’s... I’m falling in love with you, and I can't do that when I know this won't work."

  She's in love with me. Now she's said it without the haze of alcohol clouding her judgment. "I'm falling in love with you too, Charity. In fact, I'm already there, in so deep I'm drowning in you."

  "But... how is this going to work?"

  "Firstly, you're coming home with me and we're going to make love until we can't any longer. Secondly, I'm going wherever you lead. If you want to live in Montana, I'll learn to work a farm. I'm already quite good on horseback."

  "But the hotel..."

  "I'll sell it, or better yet, I can promote Clara, and she can run things. I don’t care where we are as long as you’re mine.”

  “And the wedding?”

  I thread my fingers in hers and slide my thumb over the diamond. “I’m taking you to the wedding, but not as my fake fiancée. I want you to agree to marry me. Be my wife and promise you’ll never leave.”

  Her eyes shine with love, and I know I have her. "This is cra—"

  "I know. It's daft, but I also know I love you. I never want to feel the way I felt when I saw you get in that lift. You leaving me was the single-most terrible feeling next to my mum's death. I need you in my life forever."

  She nods. "If you'd let me finish, I was going to say, this is crazy, but I can't see my life without you either. Yes, I'll marry you."

  I don't give her a chance to say anything else, I take her beautiful face in my hands and kiss her until we're both out of breath. I've found my soul mate and I'm never letting her go.

  We walk hand-in-hand toward baggage claim and the airport exit. I'm ready to call us a car and get my new fiancée back to my flat so I can love her properly. She stops me as we walk through the sliding doors.

  "Oh, how are we going to get my bag?"

  I laugh and shake my head. "I'm sure I can have Charlie track it down."

  Epilogue

  One year later:

  Charity

  Lincoln grins down at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "What on earth are you doing down there?"

  I groan and try to work myself out of the pretzel-like position I'm in. "Yoga. It's supposed to help with the sciatica pain."

  He holds a hand out to help me up and when he tugs, I rise. "You've only a few weeks left. I don’t know if I’m keen on you twisting yourself into all kinds of positions. What if your water breaks and you can’t get up?”

  His large palm spreads over my huge baby bump. We found out I was pregnant a few months after we got engaged — even though I was on birth control. I’d been terrified, but Lincoln was thrilled. He stole me away to the courthouse and married me that day.

  “These two are going to be good little boys and wait until my scheduled C-section.”

  A proud grin spreads across his face. “Twins. I still can’t believe it.”

  “Well, smile all you want, Prince Charming, because it’s totally your doing. Not a single person in my family has twins and your side has four sets. You should come with a warning label. May cause spontaneous orgasms, render birth control ineffective, and result in pregnancy with multiples.”

  He laughs and wraps his arms around me. “Care to work on that first warning?”

  Spontaneous orgasms? Yes, please. I’m always desperate for him these days. I kiss him deeply, not waiting for the spark to build between us. It’s a raging inferno of need and love, and he's the only one that can tame the flame. I can feel him thick and heavy pressed against my belly. He wants this just as much as I do.

  "Lincoln, please. I need you now." I'm whining, I know, but my hormones are on overdrive.

  "You act as though I didn't have you this morning."

  "What can I say? I'm insatiable."

  His lips quirk up in a smile. "Naughty nun. Look at what you've gotten yourself into. I'll have to keep you pregnant all the time if you're going to be this needy. I like it when you beg."

  "I'll beg all you want."

  "On the bed, beautiful wife."

  I love it when he's dominant, and right now I know I won't need any preparation but he's going to tease me anyway. He pulls my leggings over my hips and down until they're nothing but a pile of black fabric on the floor. Then my shirt is over my head and I'm clad in only my bra and panties.

  "Have I mentioned how much I love what pregnancy has done for your tits?" His voice is rough and gravelly. "And these knickers..." I laugh because I know he's teasing. Maternity panties are not sexy, no matter how hard they try.

  "Shut up and fuck me."

  "My, my, your mouth has gotten quite dirty since I took your innocence, love."

  I'm frustrated now, ready and waiting but this man is taking his sweet time. "Maybe I'll just go to the bathroom and get myself off with the shower head instead."

  He tenses and stares me down. "Fuck that." Then he pulls his shirt over his head and unbuttons his trousers. In seconds they join my leggings on the floor along with his boxers. He stands before me, naked, beautiful, and hard as steel. "On your knees, darling. I want
to try something."

  I do as he asks, slowly due to my size, and I feel his lips caress my spine as he takes up position behind me. "Lincoln," I moan when his fingers slide across my wetness and up over my clit. It doesn't take much to make me come these days.

  "Rise up and hold onto the headboard." Excitement blazes a trail through me as I do what he tells me and his large palms run over the swell of my belly and up to cup my heavy breasts.

  Then his cock nudges at my entrance before pressing inside, deep and perfect. I cry out as he moves within me and he kisses my neck, my shoulder, occasionally giving me a gentle bite as he pinches my sensitive nipples. "Fast or slow, love?"

  "Fast and hard...oh, God, please."

  He holds me to him, one arm across my chest while the other cradles my belly, he pounds into me and sends me careening into a blinding orgasm. He groans long and low as I come all over his cock, and I feel the pulse of his own pleasure cresting.

  "God, I love you," he says, gently moving us until we're spooning on the bed.

  "I love you too. So much."

  Then I feel a tightening in my belly, long and painful. This is different from the practice contractions I've been having. I suck in a sharp breath and Lincoln sits up, his hand on my belly. "What was that? I've never felt your belly do that."

  "I think it was a contraction." Fear and excitement meld in my chest.

  "Is it time? Should I get the bag? Order a car?"

  I laugh and shake my head at his panicked expression. "Not yet. It was just one contraction." I slowly make my way to my feet, needing to clean up. "I'm going to shower. Don't go anywhere, Prince Charming."

  "You have my word. I won't move from this bed."

  I take two steps toward the bathroom when another contraction ripples through me, and I feel a pop as my water breaks. Eyes wide, I stare at my feet and the puddle on the floor. “Shit,” I whisper.

  “Fuck,” he says. “I think it’s time.”

  I nod. “I think you’re right. Let’s go have some babies.”

  He stands and rushes to dress as I waddle to the bathroom and turn on the shower, rinsing off before we head to the hospital. By the time I’m done, he’s called a car and has my bag strapped across his chest and two matching car seats in his hands. “How are you feeling, love? All right?”

  “I’ve had two more contractions since my water broke but I’m okay.” Another tightening runs across my belly, and this time I have to pause and breathe through it. "But we should get going."

  "Come on, you blasted thing." He all but kicks the elevator door, waiting for it to open.

  "It's fine, Linc. We've got time."

  His eyes are wild, and concern etches a line on his brow. "That's what they always say in the movies, and they never have time. I don't want our sons born in the back of a car."

  I giggle, I can't help it. "They won't be. I promise."

  Another pain grips me, and I grimace. "Right, that's it." He sets down the car seats and moves to scoop me into his arms.

  "Lincoln! Stop. I'm way too big for that."

  The doors slide open and relief floods me. The last thing I need is for my husband to hurt himself while I'm in labor. He grabs the seats again, and after I waddle into the elevator, he follows. The doors close and nervous butterflies dance up a storm in my belly. "We're about to have our family," I whisper.

  He stares at me, all love and devotion. "This is better than any fairy tale."

  "And you're sure we'll live happily ever after?"

  "Oh yes, we fucking will. I promise."

  <<<<>>>>

  About the Author

  Kim Loraine was raised a Navy brat but spent most of her life growing up in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. A proper Washingtonian, she's addicted to coffee, doesn't let a little rain ruin her day, and thinks the sun is a gift from God. When not chasing her three little minions around, Kim spends her time writing, reading, and binge watching Doctor Who.

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  Sneak Peek

  His Whiskey Sour

  Keep reading to get the first chapter of His Whiskey Sour

  The Cocktail Girls

  His Whiskey Sour (A Stand Alone Rock Star Romance)

  Chapter 1

  Easton

  "This is a terrible idea," I say into my phone as my driver pulls up to The Millennium Hotel.

  The lights of the Vegas Strip permeate the car through windows tinted so dark they're black. I need quiet and calm, not slot machines and showgirls. How the hell my manager expects me to write another number one record while I'm surrounded by the non-stop party life, I'll never know. The rest of my band is here already. They caught an earlier flight, but I stayed back, hoping for a few more days at home.

  "Easton, you need to get your head out of your ass and live a little." Franco laughs over the line. "I can't believe I'm telling a rock star to party. Usually it's the other way around. Stay off the drugs, stop getting tanked in public, don't sleep with hookers." He clears his throat. "But, seriously, don't do those things."

  "You know I don't touch that shit." I'm probably too harsh with him, but there's a reason I don't drink or do drugs. A fucking good one.

  "I know. Sorry. How's he doing?"

  Franco's getting personal now. I'm not ready for personal. "When do we start rehearsing?"

  He coughs and I hear a deep intake of breath as though he's taking a drag from a cigarette. "Next week. Show's in two weeks, but this is a big production. Vegas isn't like going on tour. They'll want to make it a whole experience."

  The driver is standing outside my door, waiting for me to signal him that I'm ready to get out. "Fine." I open the door and the guy scrambles to get it for me. It's his job, but I hate being pandered to. I wave him off and go around to the trunk to find my guitar and bag. "Franco, I need you to promise me this'll be worth the time. I've got an album to write so we can record."

  "It's going to buy you some time. In case... well, in case you're still blocked after this."

  "How so?"

  "You'll be riding high on the publicity. We can afford a delay as long as you're still relevant."

  Still relevant. God, what a fucking fickle industry. "I could always get married while I'm here."

  He chokes and I hang up before he can respond. I love fucking with him. The driver has my stuff ready for me and after I tuck my phone into my pocket, I hand the guy a twenty and thank him. The hotel lobby looms and that familiar buzz of anticipation builds in my gut whenever I go somewhere new. Taking a deep breath, I walk through the doors and step inside The Millennium.

  I'm immediately greeted by my own personal concierge. She's eager, too eager, and her smile is too wide.

  "Mr. Harrison. Welcome to The Millennium. I'm Hannah, I'll be your contact during your stay. Anything you need, just ask." She presses a business card into my hand. "The penthouse is ready for you and we've taken the liberty of assigning a security detail to your door at all times." She speaks quickly, her breathy voice making me worry she's going to pass out on me.

  "It's Easton, just Easton. And I don't need security. Where's the rest of my band staying?"

  Her eyes go wide. "The three of them are in room 1127. It's a two-bedroom suite. Is that a problem? Your label made the arrangements."

  I fight a sigh of frustration. These guys may not be the face that goes with the name on my records, but they've been with me since my first album. "How many bedrooms are in the penthouse?"

  "Four."

  "Right. Do me a favor, Hannah?"

  She nods but doesn't say anything.

  "Have my stuff put in their suite and move those guys to the penthouse. Give them anything they need."

  "But... I—"

/>   "Hannah?" I say her name with a little growl I know will get her attention.

  "Y-yes?"

  "You said you were my personal contact. Anything I need."

  She nods again.

  "I need you to do this for me. No questions asked."

  "It will take a little time."

  I cast my gaze around the lobby, the sound of slot machines catching my ears unappealing. "There somewhere I can go have a bite to eat?"

  "Oh, yes, of course. We've got a five-star restaurant, a coffee bar, and our famous LBD cocktail bar."

  I raise an eyebrow. "LBD?"

  She smiles. "Little Black Dress. No showgirls in here. Our waitresses are beautiful without sequins and feathers. There's a VIP room I'm sure they'll be glad to entertain you in as well."

  "Is it quiet?"

  "It can be. They'll cater to your needs."

  I offer her a curt nod and head into the cacophony of the casino floor. I see it immediately. Purple neon proudly announces Little Black Dress over the backlit doorway. I'm not sure about this, but the last thing I want to do is gamble.

  "Omigod, do you see him? It's Easton Harrison." I hear the squeal as soon as I'm recognized.

  More murmurs of my name catch my ears and I pick up my pace. VIP room, here I come. I'll text the guys when I'm safely concealed behind a velvet rope. I rush through the door and into the upscale bar. The first thing I notice is the rich wood-paneled walls with lighting meant to create an intimate feel in a large space. It works. There's a handful of patrons sitting around tables, but it's early in the evening and most people are still out exploring the Strip or gambling. I give it two hours before this bar really gets going.

  "Are you just going to stand there or did you want to order a drink?" The woman's voice catches me off guard, and her tone is bordering on annoyed. Turning my gaze toward her, I have to stop myself from letting my mouth fall open.