Million Dollar Marriage

by Evans, Katy

  And then something happens.

  I actually start to think I might be able to do this.

  The next few obstacles are almost easy. I run through tires, then have to grab onto a rope dangling over the center of a mud pit and leap over the pit. I get it done. And soon I start feeling invincible. The theme from Rocky starts to play in my head as I get to the next obstacle, a series of wooden balance beams I traverse, only falling off once.

  Then I see it. A rope, suspended horizontally over a pool of mud.

  I have no idea how to get over this thing.

  “Wrap your arms and legs, keep it tight, and go over, hand over hand, foot over foot,” the marine shouts at me.

  I climb the ramp and tackle it. I am not going to be the weak link in this challenge. I am more than halfway through. I am going to get this done.

  Somehow I end up falling over, so that I’m hanging under the rope instead of on top of it, but I slowly make it across, aware of another person on the course, gaining ground. I see a flash of black hair and tanned skin.

  Marta.

  Then someone whistles and shouts, “Get it, Penny!”

  I tilt my head to the side and see a handsome, formidable marine, clapping his hands for me. He has his hat down low over his eyes, but few men have a broad chest that looks as good in a T-shirt. Luke.

  I bite down hard on my lower lip, nearly drawing blood as I move over the pit, until I reach the end.

  I did it! And I didn’t get a face full of mud either.

  I rush down the ramp to the next obstacle, a series of low walls, which I climb over, not as gracefully as I’d like, considering I can feel Luke’s eyes on me. He’s cheering and wolf-whistling and clapping for me, and I take on the next obstacle, a series of metal bars. I have to hoist myself up with my feet before I can get up, but I do so only because I want it bad. I’m determined to get this shit done.

  I cross the finish line before Marta, and Luke is there, grinning at me. He gives me a high five and pulls me into a celebratory hug. “How the fuck did you do that, beast?”

  I reach up and tug on his hat, yanking it off his head. All that messy dark hair is gone, as is the beard. He’s . . . clean. And just as hot as ever. “Nice buzz,” I say as he swipes his hand through it.

  I start to walk toward where our next clue is, but he stops me, and when he does I follow his finger and realize that I have a tear in my cargo pants and I’m bleeding. I roll up the fabric to reveal a huge gash on my shin, and the blood is running down into my sock and boot. I don’t think I’ve had an injury like that, ever.

  “Let’s have medical look at that.”

  I peer over at Ace, who’s trash-talking Marta through the rest of the obstacle course. “No. We’ve got to go now. Let’s go.”

  He takes my hand, and we grab the next clue. We don’t bother to change into new clothes. We grab our bags and get the first cab. I rip open the envelope and read, then gasp breathlessly to the driver, “We’ve got to get to someplace called Julian. Please. As quick as you can.”

  “Julian? What do we got to do there?” Luke asks me as I check to see if any of the other teams are coming.

  I shrug. “It doesn’t say.” I lean over and ask the driver how long of a ride it is, and he tells me it’s about an hour into the San Diego mountains. I sit back, feeling wired and restless but most of all . . . pumped. “Did you see me?”

  Luke motions to my leg. I lift it up onto his knee as he says, “Yeah, I saw you, killer. What, you gonna give up your French poetry and become a marine now, Dr. Cross?”

  I shrug happily. “Maybe.”

  He laughs and carefully and methodically rolls up the fabric of the pants, his gentleness so uncharacteristic of his big hands. He reaches into his pack and pulls out the medical kit they gave us at the beginning of the race. He opens up an antiseptic wipe packet with his teeth, shakes it out, and applies it to the cut. I squirm a little. “Hurt?” he asks.

  I shake my head. One of his hands is tending to the cut on my shin, but the other is on my bare knee, so warm and solid, and I can feel his calluses on my skin. I can feel his touch drawing up the goose bumps, making every nerve ending come alive. When he’s done cleaning the wound, he dips his head and very softly blows on my skin.

  Those goose bumps start to sizzle, and when he raises his head, he’s smiling just a little hint of a devilish smile, like he knows he’s gotten to me by the way the electricity is practically zinging off my body. Like he knows that every sexual organ in my body is aching for him.

  It’s the adrenaline, I tell myself.

  But that’s a lie. Because I’ve felt this before, and it didn’t take an obstacle course to do it.

  The gash isn’t so bad once it’s cleaned. The bleeding has nearly stopped. He applies cream and an extra-large bandage. “You’ll be all right, killer. You tired?”

  I look down at myself. Somehow, for someone who didn’t fall in the mud once, I’m covered in sweat and dirty and muddy and probably look gross. Not to mention that neither of us has showered since Boston, which was four days ago. There’s only so much that quick cleanups in airport bathrooms can do for a person. “Exhausted. What are the chances that we’ll be able to sleep in a real bed tonight, with an actual bathroom we can shower in?”

  He fixes me with a lazy smile. “Is that an invitation?”

  I blush and start to move my leg off his knee, but he doesn’t let me at first. He strokes his thumb lightly over my knee, up my thigh. I like it.

  And when his gaze meets mine and he says, “Anywhere else need my attention, Dr. Cross?” I nearly die. Because I want to say all of me.

  I want him in the shower, in my bed, everywhere. Wherever I can get him.

  Every last inch of me needs every last inch of him.

  Luke

  I knew she could do it. She thinks all she’s got to flaunt is that great big brain of hers, but I never met a girl who’s so damn hard on herself. Truth is, she’s tough as nails.

  —Luke’s Confessional, Day 11

  We pull in front of a bed-and-breakfast in the little mountain town of Julian. When we get there, we see Will Wang waiting on the platform. We jump out of the cab and throw our shit on the platform at his feet.

  “Congratulations, team,” Will says. “You are in first place.”

  Fuck yes. We’ve held our lead.

  I turn to Penny and engulf her in a hug. We’re covered in sweat and dirt, and yet she smells damn good. I pull her scent into my lungs, and suddenly I want to keep her against me for the rest of the night, just like this.

  No, I want more than this.

  I want her. Me. In a room. All night long. I want to drag her body to me and undress her and explore her every inch with my mouth.

  And I don’t think even that will be enough to knock her out of my system.

  Fuck yes, we’re in first place. We get to continue this adventure. But right now, I just want to take her up to bed.

  Will grins widely and says some stupid shit about how Julian is known for their apple pies and how tonight we’ll be treated to a relaxing dinner with a dessert of pie à la mode as well as a night at one of the town’s best bed-and-breakfasts.

  But the thing I zero in on? Bed.

  As in, Nell and me. In bed. Together.

  And I sure as fuck plan on not sleeping over the covers this time. From the way she’s holding my hand as we go inside, I don’t think she’ll mind.

  “I’m so glad,” she says as we take a creaky elevator to the top floor of this little Victorian house. “I feel so gross. It’ll be so nice to take a shower and have dinner and relax right now. I’m . . . starting to feel a little sore.”

  “Oh yeah? Where?”

  “My shoulders, from the monkey bars, and . . .”

  I run my hand up her spine to her fragile shoulders and knead the muscles of her neck. Her head drops back.

  “That’s nice.”

  Our room is small, but it has its own bathroom. The second I
close the door, we drop our bags, and I draw her to me. I crush my mouth to hers and press her up against the door. She lets out a moan as I run my hands under her shirt, cupping her tits. She feels warm and sweet, and my mind is whirling. I spit out half-formed thoughts as I kiss her. “I want this. Want you.”

  “Take me.”

  Sweet invitation. I intend to. As soon as I can.

  And then it hits me.

  I half assed it when I packed for this trip and forgot a bunch of things that could have come in handy. But the thing I’m regretting most?

  Protection.

  I kiss her hairline and force myself to tear away from her. “Fuck. I’ve got to get something. For us. Okay?”

  She gives me a confused look, which morphs to disappointment. She drops her eyes over her dirty fatigues and cringes. “That’s okay. I guess I’ll go take a shower, then. I really need one.”

  I cup her chin in my hand and settle a soft kiss on her lips. “I won’t be long.”

  The cameras are swarming over every last inch of this tiny bed-and-breakfast, making it more like a zoo. There’s no gift shop, so I go outside the back entrance, trying not to call attention to myself so that I get a camera following me. Once I’m sure I haven’t been followed, I search up and down the hilly streets for a drugstore, all the while thinking of Penny, naked and showering in our room. It may be that the world is plotting against us, because all the stores I go past are either closed or they don’t carry condoms. Twenty minutes later, I end up finding a gas station that sells only one kind, extra-large Crowns, suspicious because the package has a layer of dust on the top and I can’t find an expiration date, but fuck it. It’s better than nothing.

  Penny’s just coming out of the shower as I get in. She’s wrapped in a towel, her wet hair back, her glasses gone, giving me a really good look at just how beautiful her face really is. She looks at the box of condoms as I pull them out of the paper bag and blushes. That sweet blush makes me crazy with the need to touch her, taste her, take her.

  I pull her to me and tug at the towel. The smell of sweet shampoo and her damp skin is driving me wild. My cock strains for her. The air crackles with static and tension and heat.

  “Success,” I tell her, opening the box and pulling one out. It’s a value pack, not that I think I’m getting that lucky tonight, or that I need the extra-large size. “Ain’t no fair, though, you being so clean. Guess I should take a shower first.”

  I strip off my clothes and jump into the bathroom. I take the quickest shower known to man, all the while thinking of Penny, waiting for me in that little towel. By the time I get out, my cock is rock hard, tenting the towel I wrap around my waist.

  I step out of the shower to find her sitting on the edge of the bed in her towel, in the same place I left her, gnawing on her lip.

  “Um . . . Luke?” Something’s bothering her. She looks so shy and like a little girl, but that body is all woman, the way her breasts heave under the towel, those generous curves I just want to feel every inch of. She’s so clean. So rosy-cheeked and sweet-smelling and fresh, and it’s driving me insane.

  I sit down on the corner of the bed and draw her onto my lap. The water droplets are still dancing on her lovely, feminine collarbone. She drops her head onto my shoulder. Holding my hand, she lets out an uneasy breath and kisses my fingertips. “You make me crazy. Like, really crazy. Crazy in a way no one has ever made me. I can’t even think when you look at me like that.”

  I chuckle. Then I scoop her into my arms and lay her down on the center of the bed. I have her now, right where I want her, right where I’ve thought about having her since the minute I saw her in the line in Atlanta. She looks up at me, biting unsurely on those pretty pink lips as I reach for the towel. I want to touch her. Touch her first, then taste her, eat her, swallow her whole.

  I start to pull on the towel, but she flinches suddenly. “Luke . . . I’m afraid.”

  My fingers stop tugging, but my cock pulses with the need to fuck her. “Of . . .”

  “Not of you. Of the way you make me feel. Of losing control.” She lets her head fall back and stares at the ceiling. “I’ve never . . . you know. With a man. Before.”

  She’s blushing deeper now. It’s the cutest damn thing. And she isn’t telling me anything I didn’t already suspect. “You can say it, sweetheart. You’ve never come.”

  She inhales sharply at the word. “I mean, I don’t think I have.”

  “You don’t think? Baby, you’d know if you did. Let me guess. That prick ex of yours made you think it was your fault?”

  She shrugs. “Well. What if my body just isn’t able to?”

  I crawl up onto the bed next to her and prop myself up on my elbow as I study her lovely, near-naked form. “No such thing. You and that asshole were just wrong for each other.”

  She gives me a doubtful look. “But that’s the thing. I thought he was so right for me. I thought I was in love with him. And I was so wrong. Because you . . . I never thought that you . . . What I’m saying is that all my life I’ve been the one who knows everything, but when it comes to this . . . I know nothing. I really feel stupid.”

  She’s babbling right now, and it’s the cutest thing. I dip my face to hers, licking a drop of water from her earlobe. “You want to wait. Is that what you’re saying?”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t. I need you. I want you right now. But I just want you to go easy on me. Please. And don’t be upset if I’m a horrible lover. I waited before, and it was because I wanted to make sure I was in love. And look where it got me.”

  I push the wet hair out of her face. “Ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart. If you want to wait, you should.”

  She let out a nervous laugh. “But I already—”

  “Fuck that. You’re allowed to make a mistake. But you don’t need to settle. There are about ten million guys in this country that would happily and easily take you to bed, and I bet every single one of them could make you come. You don’t need the prick. What you don’t seem to get through your head is you’re worth waiting for. Just stop hiding behind those glasses and shine that little light, and you’ll see that men all over will be panting for you.”

  “But . . . I don’t care about them. I want . . .”

  I lower my head to kiss each cheek. “How about this. Just relax. You don’t gotta do nothin’, killer. You did that whole course, so you deserve a little rest. Let me take care of everything. Okay?”

  She nods slowly. She looks like she’s about to protest, so I put a finger up to her lips.

  I replace it with my mouth, nibbling at the pretty pink rosebud of her lips. She sighs against me, relaxing, her hands wrapping around my neck. “That’s right. Hold on to me, baby.”

  She meets my tongue, tentatively pushing hers inside as I drag my hand down the terry cloth–covered curve of her hip to her bare thigh. I reach for the sensitive skin between her legs, and she gasps.

  “Ain’t nothing you got to do but spread your legs for me,” I tell her as I kiss her, my mouth traveling over her chin, down her jaw, to her earlobe. I take it into my mouth and suck as I part her legs, slowly moving upward. Her skin is so damn soft and untouched, and I’m going fucking mad at the thought of being there. But this is for her. I stroke my way through downy-soft hair between her legs, finding her slit.

  She shudders, her eyes widening.

  “Shh. Anything you don’t want, you tell me to stop.” I delve a finger between the warm, wet folds. Yes, she’s so wet for me already. I won’t believe she can’t come. When I find her clit, she lifts off the bed, bucking her hips a little.

  “Oh.” Her breathing is coming harder now, and she looks like a goddess before me. All I want to do is watch her. As much as I’ve wanted her, fucking her isn’t my goal anymore. Now I think I’ll be sated by getting her the release she needs, seeing her lose control at my hands.

  I start to move my finger in light circles over her clit, and now she’s closing her eyes and biting her lip
and getting into the feeling. I lean over and lick at her throat, making my way down to the tops of her breasts as they heave along with the motion of my hand. “That good, sweetheart?”

  “Yes. Very.” I feel her every muscle tensing, something coiling inside her that’s readying to explode.

  I slowly tug the towel off her perky breasts and suck one hardened nipple into my mouth as she groans. Then I gently push a finger inside her, applying pressure to her clit with the pad of my thumb. Seconds later, she throws herself forward, fisting the towel, breathing out all the air in her lungs. Her pussy contracts again and again on my finger, hard as hell. And holy god, she’s fucking gorgeous as she comes, her face all rosy and her eyes all smoky and sexy.

  I lean toward her ear and murmur, “See? You’re perfect.”

  She falls back onto the bed, looser and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. “Oh my god. You did that so fast. And I can’t feel my toes.” It’s fucking delicious, how sexy she is, lying naked and flat across the bed, wiggling her feet. She suddenly sits up on her elbows and looks at me. “Done that a lot, have you?”

  I shrug. “I told you. There ain’t nothing wrong with you.”

  “I can’t believe it. All this time I thought I couldn’t, and . . .” She’s babbling again. Somewhere in there, her sense of shame comes back, because she tightens the towel around her body and gives me a sheepish look. “What do we do next?”

  I laugh, because if I don’t, I’ll go batshit. There are so many things I want to do next to her, and every single one of them will only make me feel like I’m taking from her more than I can give in return. I may have made her come, but I’m not a doctor. I’m not husband material. Hell, I can’t even carry on a halfway intelligent conversation with her. I’m sure as hell not the type of person a woman like her should go falling in love with.