The Blitzed Series Boxed Set: Five Contemporary Romance Novels

by JJ Knight

  With a quick thrust, he’s inside, and I almost fall forward. He twists my long hair into a knot around his hand and holds me in place, his other hand on my hip. He holds me steady as he rocks behind me, so fast and hard that I feel lightheaded.

  He leans over my back. “I think they’re asking for an encore,” he whispers against my skin.

  I brace my head on my hands, feeling every long, hard stroke reverberate through my entire body. The tension gathers a second time. “Yes,” I say.

  “That’s my girl.”

  He slows down, takes it a little easier, making me want it hard again, pushing back against him, letting out little groans of need.

  “Faster?” he asks. “Harder?”

  “Yes,” I tell him.

  But he doesn’t give it to me right away, slowing down just another touch until I’m clutching the bedding. “Please,” I add.

  He lets go of my hair and holds my hips with both hands. His body slams into mine, and I let out a small scream. Then again, and again, and again, until everything is obliterated in the shocking heat blasting through me with every movement.

  I tighten around him, the groan low in my throat. Every muscle is pushed to the limit. This orgasm is like a big, heavy wave taking me down. I want to collapse, but Blitz holds me up, making me his, the warmth of him flowing into me.

  I can barely breathe, my arms shaking, my breath stolen. Still, my insides pulse around him, greedy, gloating, willing this to go on forever.

  Blitz falls over my back, his cheek on my neck. We hold on, letting our bodies reset, our hearts hammering in discordant rhythms, separated only by skin.

  “You okay?” he asks, smoothing my hair away from my face.

  I nod.

  He shifts back and brings me with him so that we fall length-wise on the bed, our heads sinking into the pillows.

  “Maybe we do need cameras,” he says. I hear the shake in his voice.

  I manage to flip my arm up to smack him lightly on the belly. “We already have enough cameras in our life,” I say.

  “True. The fantasy is better than the reality,” he says.

  I turn and snuggle into his chest. “Well, about the cameras anyway. Not about you.”

  He brings his arm around me, pulling me in more tightly.

  “You got that right.”

  Chapter 9

  Before we head to LA, I have to break the news to my mother that I’m having a fake wedding on camera. She’s been so excited as Blitz and I plan our cruise. I hope she isn’t crushed to hear I’m having to do vows on the show.

  I decide to meet her and my brother at a park between their house and the dance studio. It’s a happy place of memories for me.

  I drive my little white car to their part of town. Ted rescued it for me from the besieged house and had to drive for two hours before he finally lost all the press. The crowd has thinned apparently, but there are still at least six photographers camped out on the sidewalk there.

  I’ll be glad for this to be over.

  My old part of town is quiet, though. Nobody bothers anybody else here, and we go unnoticed in the park, although I do take the precaution of a big beach hat and sunglasses. My little brother Andy laughs when he sees it, but I just ruffle his shaggy brown hair.

  “You’ve gotten big,” I tell him.

  “I’m supposed to!” he says, then takes off for the merry-go-round.

  “He’s growing up,” Mom says. She has more gray strands threaded through her hair than I remember. She still wears her T-shirts and jeans. “You look well. A little skinny still.”

  “If I don’t keep up with my ballet, I won’t be for long!” I say.

  We walk along the path of the park. Andy holds on to the metal pipe of the merry-go-round and runs as fast as he can along the worn dirt circle that surrounds it.

  “You have a date for the cruise yet?” Mom asks.

  “We’re looking at October,” I say.

  “You decided if you’re going to ask your dad or not?”

  I don’t answer. That’s a tough one. I’ve only seen him a couple times since I left home two years ago. In one instance, he threatened to hit me when I borrowed the adoption papers from our church.

  But last time, he was better. He stood on the porch when Blitz and I came to take Mom and Andy out for Andy’s birthday a couple months ago.

  He didn’t come with us, but he did look at me and nod, as if perhaps he was able to stand the sight of me now.

  But that doesn’t mean he’d be a good addition to the wedding. So many of his words echo in my ears, even now. Worthless. The shame of the family.

  “I’d at least have to talk to him once or twice to know if he’s really capable of being there,” I say.

  Mom nods. “You know, he did go to that recital. The one where Blitz proposed.”

  I thought I had seen him, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Did he say anything to you about it?”

  “Just that he was glad you were going to live an honest life.”

  Right. Because getting married is the only way to be honest.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  We circle back through the park so that we don’t get too far from Andy.

  “He still has a lot of anger in him,” she says, her eyes on the trees as birds flit from one branch to another. “I think he’d be okay, but then I could also see that Benjamin might say something that sends him off.”

  “So he’s a risk for wrecking the day,” I say.

  “Possibly.”

  I appreciate that she’s honest. Now I have to be too.

  “There’s something else,” I say.

  Mom presses her hand to her chest. “Are you pregnant already?” she asks.

  It’s always about that with them.

  “No,” I say. “I am not pregnant. It’s about the show. Blitz’s — Benjamin’s dance show.”

  “Oh, that.” Her voice goes flat. I know neither she nor my dad approves of the rowdiness of Dance Blitz.

  “They’re requiring us to have a TV wedding. Live, I think. It’s a big production.”

  Mom stops. “Really? Will they be on the cruise?” She touches her hair. “I can’t do that. And Andy! I don’t want him on TV!”

  I can see the panic in her eyes, imagining the cameras on her, half-dressed girls dancing around Andy.

  “No, no,” I say quickly. “It’s a separate thing. On TV.”

  “Two weddings then?” she asks. Her hands drop down.

  “Yes. One for the cameras and one for us.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  I stand beside her. The wind ruffles the edge of my floppy hat, and I hold on before it’s lifted off my head.

  “This should be the end of it,” I say. “Benjamin just had a clause in his contract that if he marries a contestant, the wedding is the property of the franchise.”

  “That’s so ridiculous.” She shields her eyes from the glare as she peers across the park to spot Andy. He’s found two other boys, and the three of them race around the equipment.

  We walk in their direction.

  “I wanted you to hear it from me. They’ll be doing promos for it soon.”

  “Well, you know I don’t watch television,” she says.

  “Someone might mention it,” I say.

  She nods.

  We sit on a bench and watch the boys play.

  “I guess it will be all right if I go without your father,” she says. I can tell she isn’t convinced, though.

  “You okay mom? With Dad? He gets so angry.”

  “Sure. It’s fine. I made a vow. For better, for worse.” She still looks out over the park.

  “That’s not a death sentence,” I say.

  “Neither is being married to him,” she shoots back.

  I go quiet at that. Andy and the two other boys dart up the ladder to the slide and disappear in the curving plastic tube. They don’t come out the end.

  Mom stands up, alarmed, then sits d
own again when the three boys fall into a heap at the bottom, laughing.

  “He’s ten, Mom,” I say. “Don’t you think he should at least try regular school? So he can make friends?”

  “Home school was good enough for you,” she says sharply.

  “That sounds like Dad talking,” I say.

  She relaxes and pats my knee. “How about I worry about my family and you concern yourself with yours. Will you have a baby with Blitz?”

  “Probably someday,” I say. But my stomach turns just thinking about it. I have a daughter, Gabriella. What would I one day tell another child about the missing sister?

  “When you have a daughter, you will understand,” she says.

  I almost jump off the bench. I did have a daughter. A daughter she and my father forced me to give away.

  But like her, I take deep breath and let it go.

  Those things are the past.

  Blitz and these two weddings are my immediate future.

  Chapter 10

  We head down the stairs of the private plane and onto the tarmac the next day. I’m surprised to see Jessie standing by the hired car that will escort us to our hotel.

  I rush up to her and envelop her in a huge hug. “Hannah found you!”

  Her hair has grown long, lustrous and brown. She’s still tiny, like the dancer she was before her injury led her to be my assistant on Dance Blitz.

  She’s over a year older, probably eighteen now, and seems more self assured in a classic black skirt, footless tights, and a pretty, pale blue cashmere vest. I haven’t seen her since the last episode of season three, after I won the competition.

  Blitz and I slide into the back seat of the car. Jessie sits up front.

  “What have you been doing?” I ask her.

  “I auditioned for a lot of ballets, but only got one short two-weekend thing,” she says. She buckles in and picks up the same sling bag I remember her carrying before. A wave of nostalgia hits me.

  “Anything we can help with?” Blitz asks.

  She shrugs. “Not sure. I’m healed, but maybe I don’t look as good as I think I do.”

  “We’ll call our trainers,” Blitz says. “And call Devon. Tell him I want you and Livia to do some dancing together on camera while we do the preparations for the wedding. Get you some exposure.”

  “That’s good,” I say. “Can she be a bridesmaid? That would get the cameras on her.”

  “Oh, you’ll want to know about that,” Jessie interjects.

  We both look at her.

  “What have they done now?” Blitz asks.

  The driver starts the car, and Jessie pauses to give him the address of the hotel. Then she turns to us again.

  “You’re definitely not going to like it,” Jessie says. “It’s an obvious bid for conflict and ratings.”

  My stomach drops. I have a feeling I know what she’s going to say.

  “Are they contestants?” I ask.

  Jessie nods. “The worst.”

  “Not Giselle,” I say.

  “Not yet,” she adds quickly. “But we do have the stripper from season two.”

  “What!” I say. “I thought they decided she was too risky.”

  Blitz pulls out his phone. “They have not consulted me on any of this. I’m a producer and I’m about to pull rank.”

  I sit back in my seat and look out the window at the LA sights whizzing by. I can still picture the girl and the red satin bed. That sexy dance. Her crazy decision to go naked on the show to try and get Blitz’s attention.

  Now she’s back.

  All the girls who failed to impress him the first time are back. And it’s worse now, because many of them have had a taste of fame and what it’s like to get lost in obscurity again.

  They’ll want the fame back.

  Blitz sits with the phone pressed to his face. “Voicemail,” he says to me. “Someone’s about to get an earful.”

  I’m not sure who he’s called. Lance, maybe, although he was always in league with Giselle. Maybe Taya. This whole thing is her brainchild.

  Blitz leaves a terse message to call him immediately or he’s ditching the whole show and stabs another line in his contact list.

  Jessie peers around her seat. “How are you?” she asks me.

  “Wishing life were quiet again.”

  “I was surprised to hear you were doing a live wedding.”

  “Contracts,” I say. “I guess Hannah contacted you?”

  “Someone from the network,” she says. “I told them I’d do it as long as it didn’t conflict with any shows that might come up.”

  “Absolutely let us know if you get something and need to go. I can carry my own script.”

  She smiles. “Everything is a long shot for me. It will be fun.”

  Blitz shoves his phone back in his pocket again. “Either they’re all in the same meeting or they’re trying to shut me out.” His face is stormy and dark. “I’m tempted to get right back on a plane.”

  Jessie sorts through a sheaf of papers. “There’s a meeting this afternoon with the crew,” she says. “Two o’clock. Maybe they can clear things up?”

  “Doubtful,” he says. “They seem to enjoy springing stuff on us.”

  “That’s the only thing today,” Jessie says. “Tomorrow will be a cake tasting,” she says. “Looks like wardrobe will arrive at your hotel at eight to select your outfits. Filming is at 11.”

  “What else?” Blitz asks.

  Jessie shifts through the pages. “Blitz meets with his trainer tomorrow afternoon. There’s going to be a groomsmen dance.”

  “Who are the groomsmen?” he asks.

  “Barry, the announcer. Mack. A couple celebrities. Looks like Dylan Wolf is going to sing. In honor of your San Antonio heritage, there will be some rodeo cowboy. Brady Wilson? He’s a rather famous bull rider.”

  “Is Blitz going to have to kiss another pig?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Funny,” Blitz says. “What is the cowboy going to do?”

  “It’s not clear,” Jessie says. “The wedding ceremony itself isn’t outlined yet.”

  “The meeting,” I say.

  Blitz sits back in his seat, eyes on the roof of the car. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” He reaches for my hand. “Are you sure, Livia?”

  I’m not, really, but I squeeze his fingers. “I think it could be fun. Let’s figure out who we can help with it, like Jessie here, and make it something good.”

  Blitz snaps his fingers. “Let’s do a fundraiser. Maybe to start more wheelchair ballerina classes in other places.”

  My eyes widen. “If we do that, do you think we could convince them to bring the Dreamcatcher class to the wedding?”

  He smiles at that. “I like where this is going. Yes. We could.”

  “That would be perfect.” I want Gabriella there. I wasn’t sure Gwen would let her go on the cruise, but surely she would let her come to this. Those girls love Blitz beyond belief. We would pay their way. And with several of the girls here, it would hide that she is special to us.

  “What about your parents?” he asks. “Your mom and brother?”

  “Mom said no way to cameras,” I tell him. “So there won’t be family on my side. What about you?”

  “I don’t think Dad will go for this,” Blitz says. “And he’s way too offensive.”

  “True,” I say.

  Jessie looks through the pages. “Funny,” she says. “They don’t talk about family at all.”

  Blitz and I exchange glances. “I wonder why that is,” he says.

  Jessie frowns. “You’ll have to ask them at the meeting.”

  We arrive at the hotel with just enough time to drop off our things and get right back in the car for the studio.

  The three of us are silent on the ride. I realize we have a driver I don’t know and ask Blitz, “Where’s Duke?”

  “No telling,” he says. “He’s done with Mack, as far as I know. You want him?”

  “He’
s good for comedic relief,” I say. “I wonder why he isn’t a groomsman.”

  “He’s the help,” Blitz says.

  “But he was your best friend,” I say.

  “Two years ago.” Blitz shrugs. “I barely talk to him now.”

  We turn onto the studio lot and pause by the guard. Once we’re waved through, Jessie passes the scripts back. “In case I don’t get to stay.”

  “I wonder if my illustrious agent will be there,” Blitz says.

  “She’ll be protecting her percentage,” I say.

  The driver stops the car by the back entrance to the studio and hurries around to open the door.

  A couple of people are talking near the wall, but no one we know. They’re taking pictures of the sky.

  Not again.

  I glance up.

  There’s no picture this time. No boobs or banana.

  Just three words.

  Blitz glances up and shakes his head. He takes my hand. “Ignore it,” he says.

  It’s hard for me to drag my gaze from the white letters against the blue sky. It’s like my greatest fear and worst nightmare rolled into one.

  It says, “Happily ever never.”

  Chapter 11

  The meeting reminds me of the one we had a long time ago, when we got dragged into the extra season where I had to go up against Giselle, Mariah, and Christy, the season two finalists.

  Except that this time, there is a seat for me.

  Blitz’s agent Hannah is there. And the producers I know. Drake Addler, the nice one. Lance, the red-faced, not-so-nice one. Taya, who is pushy. And the other woman, whose name I’ve forgotten.

  Bennett isn’t there now, though. He sold his share to Blitz.

  Devon stands in the corner, looking tired in his black turtleneck. Amara, the choreographer, sits primly nearby.

  Another man clears his throat. “Blitz, Livia, good to see you. Do sit down.”

  After a moment, I remember who he is. Liam, the lawyer for the show. He’s the one who had me sign my contract.

  “Larry, you might as well cuddle up to Liam,” Blitz says. Larry is his personal lawyer. “And thanks for coming.”

  “No prob,” Larry says.