Inhibitions

by Mattie Bowman

  But once the gig starts that assumption will be correct.

  The seriousness of that thought took all the initial wind out of my sails as I grabbed an onion ring from his basket.

  “You know we’ll have to…” Another flush raked across my skin as I thought harder about the story.

  “What?”

  “It’s a couple’s resort. You’ll have to pretend to be my fiancé.”

  “Right. I got that part.” He chomped down on his burger like the primal near-werewolf he was.

  “And they’ll select fantasies for us,” I said, more to myself than him as my brain started putting all the pieces together. This wasn’t just a lie that we could pretend our way out of and I ended up with a career afterward. We actually had to—in some part—participate in the activities the resort set up for us.

  “How would they know what we liked?” He asked, eating normally as if we were discussing his next fight.

  “I’m pretty sure they make you take personality tests before checking in. To evaluate how compatible we are.”

  “We’ll fucking nail that then,” he said, shrugging. “I probably know more about you than anyone ever has. Especially more than that asshole…” he set his burger down and wiped his fingers with a napkin. “You worried they’ll figure out it’s not real?”

  I shook my head. “I’m just not sure how far we’ll have to pretend.”

  He smirked, that same sly grin I’d seen him wield on plenty of unsuspecting but totally willing women. “You worried you might have to get wet with me again?”

  The bite I had in my mouth lodged in my throat, and I choked, just barely gulping it down with vodka before I passed out. “You…wish,” I said between gasps of breath.

  Owen patted my back and laughed. “Easy, Presley. Don’t get too excited.”

  “You have to think about this, Owen.” My tone was serious despite the grin on my lips. “I don’t know how far we’ll have to take the fantasies in order to get the full scoop. There may be…we may have to…kiss.”

  He covered his mouth with his hand, feigning shock. “Oh no, not that. My delicate, virginal morality can’t take it.”

  I smacked his arm, the muscle hard underneath the tight cotton of his shirt. “Come on. Please take this seriously. What if---“

  “What if what?” He grunted. “I have to kiss you? Maybe more? We’re adults. And you know I’d never let anything happen to you. So, if they drop us in a red room I’ll be gentle, I swear.” He couldn’t hold back his laugh, and I couldn’t help but join him.

  “I’m not worried about that.” I sunk my forehead in my hands.

  “Then what?”

  “What if something happens—something fake of course, just for the story—but what if it changes us?” The idea left a sour taste in my mouth. I loved him. He was the best friend I’d ever had. The only man left on this planet I still trusted.

  “Not possible.” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “There is nothing in this world that could keep you out of my life, Presley.” Letting go of my chin, he leaned back in his chair. “How am I the one talking you into this? You should be bribing me with more drinks and talk of Glimmer sponsoring one of my fights after you turn in your story.”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling, my heart completely settling in a wonderful warm blanket kind of way. Owen had never let me down before. Nothing could change the way I felt about him, even if we did have to get close at the resort.

  “It’d probably only be two weeks.” All I had to do was find Owen completely irresistible. That wouldn’t be as hard as it would be for him to keep his playboy ways locked up for that long. “Then everything would go back to normal.”

  “Two weeks and the spell will be broken.” He held his drink out to me. “To fantasy.”

  “To fantasy,” I said and clinked my glass against his.

  The sound of the toast felt like signing a contract. My head spun with every possible scenario we’d meet at the resort and excitement bubbled up in my chest.

  Two weeks, one story, and if we pulled it off, the job of my dreams.

  2 Owen

  Jab.

  Sweat rolled down my skin as I hit the bag in front of me.

  Hook. Jab. Jab.

  The gloves were an extension of my muscles, not a burden, as I landed blow after blow.

  “Last thirty seconds in this circuit, Grady! Speed it the fuck up!” Craig shouted despite being right next to me.

  I picked up my pace, my biceps and forearms searing with each connection.

  “Go, go, go!” Craig was louder than a gambling man at a horse race, but it pushed me.

  My vision tunneled as I focused on the center of the bag, hitting and darting and hitting again. Everything inside me lined up when I reached the zone—my breathing, the movement of my muscles, the steadiness of my feet—each part working like a finely tuned engine. Nothing could stop me.

  “Hot damn, Presley!” Craig hollered, letting go of the bag the same second I landed another hook, causing the thing to fly awkwardly to the side. “It’s been too long since you stopped in, girl.” He met her halfway through the gym, wrapping her in a sweaty bear hug she was too kind to deny.

  I shook out my arms, letting my gloved hands drop to my sides. “She’s not here to see you, asshole,” I joked, ribbing him for letting go of the bag mid-circuit. Only time he ever let that happen was when a pretty number wandered in the gym.

  “Says who?” He asked, finally releasing Presley who not so casually stepped away with a grin. “Can’t a gorgeous and successful woman be here to see me for once?”

  “Not this one,” I said, waving her over with my glove. Her black heels clacked against the concrete of the gym floor as she hurried over to me.

  “I’m always happy to see you, Craig,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “It’ll give him ideas.”

  Craig waggled his eyebrows from the water trolley. “I’ve always got ideas.”

  Presley chuckled and rifled through her ginormous red purse—seriously what the hell did the woman need with a bag big enough to hold an entire weekend worth of clothes?

  “Oh stop,” she said, blushing. “You know he only teases me because I’m your friend.”

  “Not true!” Craig yelled across the room. “You name the place, Presley, and I’ll take you there. My treat.”

  “Raincheck, but thank you.” She continued to dig through the monstrosity of a purse as I cut my eyes to Craig. He—along with every other man in this gym who couldn’t keep their eyes off Presley—knew she was off limits. I’d warned them all. Presley was mine.

  Well, not really mine, but I wasn’t going to let any of those asshats near her. She deserved plenty of space to mend after what David had done to her—hell, I’d been there to help her pick up the pieces—but even though she seemed better now, I still wasn’t giving them the green light. No one was good enough for her and I’d be damned if I let the woman make a mistake like she had with the last one.

  Though, the drastic end to her previous relationship hadn’t been entirely her poor judgment of the guy. I’d played more of a hand it in ending than I’d like, but she didn’t know that, and if I had my way she never would.

  Guilt twisted my insides, just like it did every fucking time the thought popped into my head. I assured myself I would never get that involved in any of her future relationships ever again. If she ever entertained the idea of a relationship again, that is.

  She is about to be your fiancé for a couple of weeks.

  The thought brought an unstoppable smile to lips—Mrs. Grady. Shit, my mom would do a freaking backflip if she heard that. I had half an urge to call her and tell her about the scheme, see if it would get her off my case for my constant state of single.

  “What are you looking for in there?” I asked. Some of her long blonde hair had fallen around her face as she searched and I had the desire to tie it up off her neck for her. I
shifted my weight. “Can I hit while we talk?”

  “Yeah,” she said, not focusing on me.

  I returned to the bag and started off at a slower, saving my breath so I could manage to speak without gasping.

  “Ah, here they are!” She pulled a set of papers out of her bag, holding them up triumphantly.

  “You know things would be a lot harder to lose in a smaller purse,” I said, hitting the bag in a four combination succession.

  “That makes no sense. Then I wouldn’t be able to fit anything in it.” She motioned to the papers. “There are several online tests we each have to take, but the resort suggested this one be done by hand.”

  “Okay.” I continued punching, splitting my mind between the bag, Presley, and our pending vacation.

  “Are you still sure about this?” Her voice had gone soft as she held the papers to her chest. With the white silk top and black skirt she wore, she was every schoolboy’s fantasy. I blinked hard, forcing my eyes back to the bag.

  “Of course I am. Are you?” I’d been on plenty of trips with her and she was absolutely, hands down, the easiest woman I’d ever traveled with before. Presley rolled with any punch, any kink in the schedule, any setback, without so much as a complaint. She never turned a challenge down and kept up with me even after a twelve-hour trip on the bike and a quick stop at a cheap hotel. If she wasn’t my best friend, I would’ve tried to fuck her already.

  An image of her on top of me, with nothing between us but skin and a set of cool sheets beneath us, flashed hot in my mind. I clenched my eyes shut for a moment, wiping the pooling sweat off my brow with my forearm. Thoughts like those weren’t unheard of—with her blue-green eyes and legs that wouldn’t quit; the woman was gorgeous—but ever since she told me about this fantasy resort, my mind had been racing with them.

  Every kind of situation I could imagine had already played out in my head and I still didn’t know how far we’d have to take things for her to get the story or for the resort to believe we were a real couple. All I knew was that if it got her her dream, I’d do it. I’d do anything for that because she was worth it.

  “Absolutely,” she finally said after chewing on her lip for a minute. “As long as you can handle whatever they throw at us, then I can.”

  I smirked. There she was. “That’s the Presley I know.” I took up my combinations again, exhaling with each connection made on the bag. “Hit me.”

  “What?” she asked.

  I tapped the edge of her papers with the tip of my glove before returning to the bag. “I can’t write with these gloves on, so ask me the questions.”

  She chuckled, a beautiful blush dusting her cheeks. “Here?” she asked. “Now?”

  What was it about her sweet innocence that turned me on so much? I’d always kept it on lockdown because she was off-limits but when she did things like that—being modest when she knew exactly how I operated—was mouthwatering. “Yes, now. Unless it’s going to offend your delicate nature?”

  She scoffed at me, clicking the end of her pen like she was squeezing a trigger. “Suit yourself.”

  The mocking threat in her tone didn’t bode well, but I kept up my pace on the bag.

  “First question.” She cleared her throat, her eyes darting around the gym. Craig was still within earshot, no doubt, but the place was pretty empty. Not that I cared, but it was entertaining to see her squirm over whatever was typed on the first page. “Which of these is closest to your ideal setting for a fantasy? A. A Venetian Brothel. B. A dungeon C. A bedroom D. A prison cell?”

  I knitted my eyebrows as the bag swayed from each hit I landed. “Bedroom.”

  “Really?” she asked as she quickly circled something on the paper.

  “Is that bad?” My arms burned as my focus slipped. “There are an unlimited amount of things you can do in a bedroom. More than a dungeon for sure.”

  She covered her mouth as she laughed. “There aren’t wrong answers, Owen. This is their way of getting inside our heads, figure out what makes us…”

  “Hot?” I finished for her when her eyes had followed a trail of sweat down my chest. I mentally high-fived myself. Every three-hour session in the gym was worth it to have her look at me like that. “Next question.”

  “Sex in a glass elevator is…A. Unsanitary, B. Illegal, C. Boring, D. Exciting?” She held the end of her pen between her teeth as she waited for my answer and I nearly forgot the question.

  Fuck, get a grip, man. The sooner we got this over with, the better. Then we could go back to our normal, strictly platonic relationship where she held the best friend position in my life, and I didn’t think about her body against mine every other thought.

  “Exciting,” I answered, my strength weakening on the bag.

  She smirked, scribbling on the paper.

  “What?” I asked, dropping my arms. My muscles vibrated underneath my overheated skin, and I tried to shake off the ache. “What was yours?”

  “I’m not telling you mine!” she said, her mouth half open in shock.

  “That’s hardly fair.”

  “You could be filling this out yourself, you know. You told me to read them to you.”

  I shrugged. “Guess I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not ashamed—”

  “And yet you won’t share.”

  “I don’t have to share everything with you, Owen.”

  I stepped close enough to smell the lavender perfume she wore. “But you do, Presley.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “As the future Mrs. Grady, you have to be honest with me.”

  Her bottom lip trembled for a moment as she released a shaky breath. She grinned and tapped my sweat covered chest with the papers. “Nice. You keep that up the whole two weeks, and we’ll be golden.”

  I tilted my head. “You think I’ll blow it for you?”

  “You never have been a one-woman man.”

  I raised my gloved hand over my heart. “I promise, for our entire stay at the resort, you will hold my undivided attention.” Dropping my hand, I fastened her with a serious look. “You know I’d never risk you not nailing this, don’t you?”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes. Of course. I’m just sorry for you. I know it’ll be hard. I don’t think you’ve gone that long without any action in say…forever?” she chuckled.

  Reaching one arm over the back of my head, I stretched out my triceps. “It’ll be a nice break.” The quick look of disappointment in her eyes struck me for only a moment before she covered it up with laughter. Wait, did she want me to take the fake role all the way?

  “Next question,” she said, flipping one of the papers over. “Which of the following toys are featured in your fantasy…A. Feathers and whipped cream, B. Handcuffs, pantyhose, and a necktie, C. Whips and chains, D. Ice cubes and a cold beer?”

  “Whips and chains!” Craig said as he snuck up behind me. “Honestly, Presley if you needed to interview someone on dirty little fantasies you would’ve been better off with me. This one here”—he smacked me on the back—“is as vanilla as they come.”

  I shoved him off. “Because you would know what I like, idiot.”

  “I’m always here, Presley. Just say the word.” Craig shrugged and walked off.

  She chuckled. “This has been the most interesting day I’ve ever had at the gym.”

  “Likewise,” I said.

  “I bet I could guess.”

  “What?”

  “What your answer is.” She motioned to Craig. “Or is he right? Does he know you better than I know you?”

  “He doesn’t know shit about that part of me.” I unwrapped the tape around my gloves and slipped one off, my skin grateful for the air. “Give it your best shot.” There was no way she would get it right. We were friends, and while she’d watched me pick up women before, she had no idea what I did once I got them home. And with someone like her? Well, that would change the game completely.

  “B. Handcuffs, panty hose, and a
necktie.” She arched a challenging eyebrow at me.

  Well shit.

  I slit my eyes at her. “How’d you guess?

  “Easy,” she said, circling a spot on the page.

  “Am I that obvious?” How could she have a clue that was what I would love to do, but hadn’t bothered venturing that direction with any of the women I took home? Didn’t she realize that kind of fantasy, that kind of sex was reserved for someone you trusted? And while the women I took home were generally lovely individuals, we both knew it was nothing more than a release and were completely okay with it that way.

  “No.” She took a step closer to me, a devious grin on her lips. “Same answer as me.”

  My lips parted open, her boldness taking me off guard.

  She pressed a finger under my chin and gently closed my mouth. “Want to keep going?”

  I nodded.

  Fuck me did I want to keep going.

  “There are only a few left, and then I assume you’ll want to fill out the open-ended questions on your own. They take a little more time.”

  “You’ve already done yours?” I asked, swallowing hard to shake off the heat pulsing in my blood.

  “You know me,” she said, her eyes scanning down the page for the next question.

  “Yeah,” I said, sucking in a deep breath. “I do.”

  She glanced up at me, the thrill in her eyes was intoxicating, and it made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the workout. There was something exciting about peeling back layers of Presley I’d never seen before, never thought I’d get to see, and I couldn’t deny my driving curiosity of what it would take to make her scream my name. These damn tests and the resort had filled my head with nothing but Presley, and I didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

  We hadn’t even checked in yet, and it already felt like things were changing.

  3 Presley

  The resort cast a warm glow when we arrived in the dead of night—our plane delayed by four hours. Rich earth tones—from the wood in which the massive estate was built to the golden lantern lights that illuminated the outside—stood out against the inky night sky, which was so clear I could see an endless sea of stars.