Practice Makes Perfect: A Fake Fiancée Romance

by Morgan Rae

  Her words echo in my head and I let out a deep breath. “You make it sound so easy,” I say.

  She looks back at me, “It is. Take your leap of faith, Tomlin. Trust me, it’s nicer on this side of that wall of yours.” Her eyes flicker behind me. “Speaking of brick walls…”

  I feel a firm body press flat behind mine. Damien’s hands clasp the fence on either side of me and a small, warm kiss melts on my bare throat. “Am I interrupting girl talk?” he murmurs.

  His voice is like a lion’s purr. It used to be I couldn’t get enough space away from him. Now, I go a couple hours without his voice in my ear and I crave it.

  “Absolutely,” I tell him. I twist around so we’re face to face now, our bodies brushing. He could pin me to the fence, lift my dress, and take me right here.

  My fingers tighten around the railing at the thought.

  “Ah,” he responds. “Should I leave?” That sparkle in his eye tells me he already knows the answer to that question.

  “The both of you should leave,” Shayla says and waves us off. “My parents will be here any second.”

  “Let’s make ourselves scarce, then,” Damien says and his hand falls on my arm. “I know the perfect place.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  “I thought you don’t have secrets.”

  Damien’s lips press in a smile. “I have one.”

  “Okay, stop being cute. Go,” Shayla says. She gives me a knowing look as we leave.

  Damien’s hand slips into my mine and I thread my fingers between his. “Wait,” I add and lift the water bottle. “I have to get this to Lacy.”

  Damien, the problem solver, surveys the place for a moment before his eyes land on a PA. “Excuse me,” he says as he takes the bottle from me and holds it out. “Can you give this to Randall’s wife as soon as possible? She’s pregnant.”

  “She’s pregnant” are apparently the magic words to get anyone hopping into action, because the PA immediately grabs the bottle and mutters in agreement before making his way down the beach.

  With that, Damien continues to tug me back down the stairs. Our feet touch sand again and we walk down the beach. We pass twin palm trees and I notice a familiar body rocking in the hammock.

  “What did you do to Jack?” I ask. Jack has one arm hanging out of the hammock which is rocking softly with his snores.

  “Ah…we had a little drinking contest. Apparently my liver is made of pure steel. I may have also given him doubles.” I squint at Damien and he shrugs. “He’ll sleep it off before dinner.”

  “In that case, I should get a head start.” I tiptoe around sleeping Jack to snag a bottle of tequila off the bar and shake it.

  Damien looks amused. We sneak through the palm trees, dodge a camera crew, and make our way to the edge of the beach. He nearly steps into Tonya McKenzie’s sight and I grip his shirt to tug him against me. I lift my finger to my lips and point to Tonya.

  Damien leans over and whispers in my ear, “I feel like a schoolboy playing hooky.”

  I can taste his throat at my lips. “Did you?”

  “No,” he laughs under his breath. “Believe it or not, I was a good boy.”

  “There’s always time to change that.” My skin tingles with the thrill of it all. In one hand, I hold the neck of the tequila bottle and with my other I trace up his thigh and cup his groin. His breath catches as I bite my lip, continuing to rub my palm over his bulge.

  He sighs and his breath patters against my shoulder. “You’re a terrible influence.”

  “I know.” I draw a line of kisses up his throat and find that sweet spot under his ear. The fresh stubble on his jaw brushes the side of my face. “Never shave,” I whisper as I tug his earlobe between my teeth. He moans lowly and I feel him swell in my palm. My nipples grow hard and chafe on my dress. It’s empowering to have the man that everyone wants literally melting in the palm of my hand. Temptation grows deep in my belly.

  Damien’s hand catches my wrist suddenly. His hot breath hits my ear as he murmurs the warning, “Be good.” There’s a dark growl in his voice that awakens an arousal so hot in me I can feel the soft fabric of my panties clinging to wet skin.

  “She’s gone,” Damien says after a moment and uses his grip on my wrist to tug me alone. “Come on, quick.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: NANCY

  We dash through the palm trees and across the beach until we get to the small, secluded area by the rocks. Damien reaches underneath the back of his shirt and pulls out the small box that operates his microphones. He unplugs it and sets it down on a flat, dry rock. I do the same with mine and once again, we’re officially off grid. It feels nice to be in our own, private world, a small vacuum of space just for us.

  “Is this your big secret?” I ask. I take a swallow of tequila from the neck of the bottle. I’ve been sipping as we snuck around and, on an empty stomach, I’m already starting to feel it go to my head.

  “Not quite,” Damien says. He points over the pier of rocks to a spot of dark violet-blue in the cliff face. “Do you see that?”

  I squint. “Is that a cave?”

  He grins. “Only one way to find out.”

  I screw the bottle of tequila into the sand for safekeeping before stepping one foot onto a flat slab of rock. It’s sun-warm and small grains of sand bite into the soles of my feet. “What if I fall?”

  “I’ll catch you.”

  Damien laces his fingers with mine to help me across. I’m not great at stepping over rocks, but they’re flat and heavy and easy to cross. It helps that Damien is strong and the tequila made me bold. I pause halfway across to look out.

  On one side, I can look down the beach and see the life we’ve left behind. Three small dots in the distance map out Randall’s family, no doubt still perfecting the sand castle. The low hanging palm trees cover most of the skyline, but I can make out the elevated platform above the bonfire where Shayla sits at a table talking with her family. Cameramen swarm them and I’m incredibly grateful that Damien and I somehow managed to sneak around that mess.

  On the other side, there’s nothing but a sliver of open beach and jagged rocks. As my brain marinates in a pool of alcohol, my mind drifts darkly. If I walked to the edge of the pier and threw myself at the rocks below, would my problems disappear just like that?

  My foot slips on a slippery rock and my breath catches in my throat as I brace for impact. Instead, I find myself sliding into Damien as he hooks his arm around my middle to keep me from falling.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, concern lifting his voice.

  He smells like the polished wood of his acoustic guitar. My mind, usually racing with so many thoughts, can only focus on one, I don’t want to lose this. Adrenaline keeps my heart pumping rapidly and my little scare banishes all thoughts of taking a water dive. I nod and curl my hands at his chest. “I’m okay.”

  He helps me off the last step of stone and onto the ground. We left the soft sand behind and now I’m stepping on polished stones and sharp clams.

  “This isn’t really bare feet territory,” I say as I try to gingerly step over the clams without splitting the soles of my feet.

  “Let me help you out,” Damien says. Before I know it, I feel the wind sweep my feet out from underneath me and I’m suddenly tucked into Damien’s arms. I laugh in surprise as he carries me across the hazardous shells and towards the cave.

  The cave is small and easy to miss, tucked away in the side of the cliff face. Damien sets me down on my feet again and I step through it. A breath of cold air greets me from the dark cave and goosebumps rise up my arms. It’s only a couple paces deep and the ground is covered in flat stone. A sliver of river draws through it and every time the water comes up the shore, it trickles in and wets the bottom of the cave. Strands of water slip around stones and curl around mini-stalagmites briefly. Just as quickly as it came in, the tide ebbs and the water hisses as it drains
from the cave floor, back out into the ocean. With the way the sunlight flickers through the damp cave walls, it looks like it’s sparkling with tiny diamonds encrusted in the walls.

  “It’s beautiful in here,” I say and my voice echoes in the yawning space. I touch one of the spikes dripping from the roof and it makes my fingertips slippery.

  “You’re quite the picture.”

  I turn around and see Damien lingering in the mouth of the cave, watching me. I feel a blush rise up my neck and I wonder if it’s visible in the cave. He steps closer and I see rippling bands of light dance across his face.

  “I didn’t know your parents were divorced,” he says, the bluntness of his statement startles me.

  “I guess it never came up,” I say and brace my palm on the cool cave wall.

  “That must have been hard on you.” His eyes are deep pools of blue and all I want to do is get lost in them.

  I shrug. “It was okay. They stayed together for my sake until I went off to college, but they slept in different rooms.”

  “Was that tense?”

  I shake my head. “They were civil, mostly. They kept most of the major fights from me, I think. Mostly I just remember this lingering cloud of sadness over my mother. And my father was so distant. They smiled a lot, but it was always clear they were faking it.” My words are spilling out; I can’t tell if it’s the influence of the alcohol or Damien’s soulful eyes. “I think that ruined me for love for a while.”

  His eyebrows knit. “What do you mean?”

  “When I started dating I was a mess. I would always test my boyfriends. If they told me they loved me, I would never believe it.”

  “You grew used to the lies,” Damien says, his voice somber.

  “Yes,” I murmur. I’m ashamed to let the words leave my lips and I find my gaze hitting the floor. “It was easier to hide behind a web of lies.”

  “I understand,” Damien says. “Sometimes, when I do interviews or press releases I barely recognize myself. I’m tired of being something fake and salable for public consumption.”

  My eyes lift again to meet his. “How did you find out? About my parents, I mean.”

  “Jack told me.”

  “Oh.” There’s that sick, lurching feeling in the pit of my stomach again, the same unease I got from falling off the rocks. “What else did he tell you?”

  “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

  A swallow a gulp of relief. I hate living constantly on a needle’s edge, fluctuating between sweating bullets of panic and breathing a sigh of solace when I realize I can hold onto my lie for a couple seconds longer. I feel like I’m gripping my sanity by my nails.

  Damien closes the gap between us. His very presence is a balm, soothing the burn of my anxiety. He slips his hand to the side of my face and his palm feel so warm. “Tell me something about you,” he says. “Anything.” He’s practically pleading, there’s a desperate note in his voice.

  “Anything?”

  “I want to know you,” he says intently. His fingertips trace down my jawline to my throat. “I want to know every inch of you.”

  A trickle of salt water laps over my toes and hisses back out.

  “I’m not a good person, Damien,” I whisper in the shadows of the cave. “I’m rotten to the core. If you really knew me, you’d hate me.”

  “Stop it.” There’s a crisp, authoritative tone to his voice that halts me in my tracks and forces my eyes to meet his. “Never say that about yourself again,” he demands. “You’re beautiful, inside and out.”

  There’s a chord of emotion pulled tight in my throat and I’m afraid that I’ll start crying if it snaps. In a moment of desperation, I pull Damien’s face against mine and kiss him roughly. A small whimper escapes my lips as I force my tongue in his mouth and grip his shoulders. My actions are jerky, violent even, and I dig my nails into him hard enough to break skin. I’m rewarded with a pained grunt from him and I shove my body flush against his. My leg hooks around his hip and I gyrate against him, working him hard. As we kiss, I slip my fingers deep in his hair and grip tightly, keeping him as close to me as possible, as though I mean to swallow him whole.

  Suddenly, Damien puts his hands on my shoulders and pries me off of him. “What are you doing?” he asks. The confusion in his eyes sparks confusion in mine.

  “I thought that was obvious,” I respond.

  “You’re lashing out.” His eyes flicker over mine. “Are you trying to make me hurt you?”

  My throat goes dry and I feel myself nod as I dig my nails into his clavicle. “Maybe. Yes.”

  He winces at that and laces his fingers in mine, easing my sharp nails out of his skin. “Any other day, I will pull your hair, bite your throat until you’re weak, and fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to close your legs for a week.”

  I’m hungry for all of that and I wet my lips. But when his fingers close over my throat, his touch is jarringly gentle. “But I can’t hurt you when you’re like this,” he says. His eyes are painfully honest. “I’m not here to punish you. I’m here to love you, even when you can’t love yourself. So take off your clothes and let me worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped.”

  I can’t speak. My words have crumpled up and died in my throat. Instead, I obey. His eyes never leave mine and I find myself trapped in his gaze. I move my fingers to the strap at my shoulder and start to push it down, but Damien brushes my hand away. “Let me,” he says.

  I’m trembling when he touches me and it has nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze.

  He draws the strap of my dress off one shoulder and then the other. My breasts bare for him and I can feel my nipples tighten into pebbles under his gaze. He catches my dress before it hits the water and crouches down to help me step out of my underwear. He bundles up my clothes in his arm and his eyes survey my body as he begins unbuttoning his shirt.

  I’m uncomfortable being so exposed and it takes everything in me not to cover myself up. The way his eyes drink me in, however, encourage me to keep my hands at my sides, so I wait as he takes his time disrobing. Damien peels his shirt off and I watch the reflections from the water flicker off his chest. Bands of light ripple over his toned muscles and highlight the patches of hair that run down his abdomen. Damien crouches down to tug his pants off his legs and then piles our clothes up on a tall, dry rock near the entrance of the cave.

  “What if someone sees us?” I ask, even though the question sounds strange even in my ears. No one is going to find us here. I doubt anyone but the two of us even know this small cave exists.

  “Are you nervous?” Damien asks.

  I shake my head “no,” but the second I do, I realize it’s a lie. “Yes,” I admit as I look up at him, though my nerves are entirely unrelated to the prospect of being found butt-naked on the beach.

  “Don’t be,” he says. Damien cups the back of my head and his breath hits my lips. “I’ll protect you.” When his lips close over mine, I feel like I’m being kissed for the first time. I take in the warmth of his lips and the softness of his mouth. He tastes me gently, without prying, simply waiting for me to part my lips on my own time, which I do. Only then does his tongue mingle with mine and he sighs gently into my mouth.

  His hands map out my body. He cups the swell of my breasts first and I feel a tremor of electricity run through me as my nipples scrape over the flat of his palm. His fingertips draw down my sides, over my stomach, and curve over my round bottom.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. He pulls me in tightly and brushes his lips across my neck. I sigh with satisfaction and drop my head by his shoulder. My hands climb his chest and I do my own exploration of his body. I love the way his muscles remain strong when I push against them. I feel safe here, enveloped in his arms.

  His touch wanders south and slips between my legs. I gasp and part my thighs. He takes his time here too, pressing his fingers against my slit and rubbing up and down. My pleasur
e swells, burning hotly between my legs and sending sparks of warmth inside my body. When he finally fits a finger inside of me, it slides in easily.

  He curls it and strokes a small, sensitive place inside of me that makes my legs buckle. I moan against his chest and cover his shoulder in wet, heated kisses.

  “I love this,” he murmurs in my ear as he bunches up my hair in his free hand.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Watching you come undone for me.”

  I curl into him and, when I look down, I can see I’m not the only one enjoying myself. He is stiff for me and I drop my hand to grip his erection. I tug him slowly in my hand, embracing every inch of him, and it grows even larger under my fingertips.

  “I want you inside of me,” I tell him. He nods in agreement and kisses me. With his lips on mine, he pulls my leg around his hip and eases himself inside of me. The cave wall is bumpy and cold against my back, but I don’t mind it, not with Damien’s skin like a furnace against mine. When he fills me, a pleasure hits me so deeply I can feel it all the way to my fingertips. He’s hot steel inside of me and I can’t get enough of him.

  I cling to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Damien moves against me to the rhythm of the tide. The salty ocean flows in and I feel it wet and submerge my toes before it pulls away again. The cave echoes with the sounds of our breaths and the low hiss of the water. Every touch, every kiss from Damien is full of purpose and adoration. I soak up his affection like a sunflower in the morning light.

  I don’t even realize I’ve reached the edge of my pleasure until it starts to overwhelm me. I grip the back of Damien’s neck tightly and my breath comes in tight, short gasps.

  “That’s it, Tomlin,” he coaxes, “let go for me.”

  His low voice pushes me over. I gasp as he draws my orgasm from me with deep strokes. My thighs quake and I release with low pulses that seem to blossom through my whole being. Damien comes with me and he sighs in my ear as his hot seed spills over inside of me.