Identical Disaster (The Sterling Shore Series Book 8)

by C. M. Owens

  My heartbeat thuds in my ears as I desperately try to think of something—anything—to defuse this situation. When his hand slides down and dips inside my shorts, I don’t even make an attempt to stop him.

  He brushes against the forbidden lands—don’t judge my wording—and I whimper. Yep. I’m a freaking whimperer these days. Don’t even care if that’s not a real word.

  He slides my leg open, and I continue to let him, and his hand slowly massages its way back up my thigh. A breath hisses between his teeth just as I whimper louder, because… He’s touching me. His finger…

  My hips buck, and he grips my hip with his free hand, holding me against him as his finger slips inside me.

  “Fuck,” he growls. “So wet.”

  He flips me over, and every vain thought of morning breath, messy hair, and no makeup flees from my mind when his lips crush mine and his weight comes down on me.

  He grinds against me, giving me pressure and friction that feels so good I almost embarrass myself by coming. Unbelievable.

  His boxers are about as much of a barrier as my skimpy shorts and lacy panties. If he’d slide things to the side, I’d be bare for him. And he could—

  A loud scream and a heavy thump, followed by another thump, carries up the stairs through the open freaking door we’re grinding in front of.

  Jax curses before leaping off me and stumbling around for his shorts. Flustered and feeling like an absolute madwoman, I slip out of the room with hurried steps.

  I don’t know why Mrs. Marshall is screaming, but I want to hug the rude, dramatic woman right now. I seriously think I almost just had sex with Jax.

  Why did he have to mess with me before coffee? I can’t think before coffee. It’s practically wrong to mess with me before caffeine sets in.

  Not that he knows that.

  Groaning and cursing myself inwardly, I try to shake off the lingering feel of his scorching, hungry touch.

  All that residual lust I can’t shake off is gone in an instant when I walk into the living room and see… my father.

  Jax skids to a halt beside me, and his eyes drop to the floor where his mother has apparently fainted. Dad is eyeing the out-cold Mrs. Marshall curiously before his gaze rises and connects with mine.

  A grin breaks across his face, and he points at the motionless woman’s body on the floor.

  “Should probably do something about that,” he says carelessly before stepping over her.

  Jaxon Marshall Sr. walks in, and he stumbles over his own two feet when he sees his wife and my father. Then he rolls his eyes and walks back out. I bite back a grin as Jax goes to scoop his mother up and gently place her on the couch.

  Dad comes and wraps both arms around me in a bear-hug, as people carry in his bags.

  “There’s my babygirl,” he says before kissing my forehead.

  Groaning, I pull back and narrow my eyes on him.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss.

  He grins that smartass grin of his, and my eyes turn into angry slits, because I know why he’s here.

  “Miss a show like this? No. I want to watch how this plays out. Has to be more interesting than watching paint dry in my new house.”

  His cheeky grin and humor-flaked eyes mock me, and I flip him off before Jax walks back over, suddenly seeming nervous. I guess meeting the parents is a bigger deal than he accredited it, now that the shoe is on the other foot.

  My lips twitch when he crosses his arms over his chest, then uncrosses them, then crosses them again. Jax being nervous… Yeah, it’s definitely cute.

  “Mr. Jaggons,” he says in a shaky breath. “Nice surprise. Thank you for letting us stay here.”

  Dad glances back at me, smiling like he’s enjoying this too much. It’s a rare occasion he ever meets a guy one of us dates, considering we keep our secrets very carefully. I still can’t believe I’m exposing myself like this to a guy I know I can’t be with.

  It’s reckless.

  It’s stupid.

  It’s—

  “You’re supposed to shake my hand, and you’re supposed to look a man in the eye if you’re walking around shirtless in his home and fucking his daughter,” Dad says with mock authority.

  —embarrassing.

  Jax stutters for a second, before locking eyes with Dad, and he thrusts his hand out so fast that it almost hits my father in the groin.

  Dad grunts and takes a step back, narrowly dodging a small catastrophe, and Jax’s eyes widen. Is he blushing? He’s totally blushing!

  I grin, because I just can’t help myself, and Dad tilts his head.

  “Never mind. I think it’s safer for my balls if we don’t attempt shaking hands. I happen to be very fond of my balls. I even named them—Lefty and Righty. The left one is named Righty,” Dad tells him, and Jax drops the dejected hand as he casts a helpless look in my direction.

  Taking pity on him, I slap my father in the stomach. “Play nice. Why are you here?” I ask, but only so he can give a fake reason to Jax, since he’s already given me the real reason.

  My father is a jackass. No big shocker there.

  Dad’s grin returns, and he laughs lightly. Jax slowly relaxes, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

  Shirtless Jax… I wish Dad hadn’t pointed that out.

  “My girl is in Hawaii, so why wouldn’t I come?”

  A slight squeal sounds from behind him, and I turn to see Mrs. Marshall sitting upright. She’s redder than a tomato. If she hadn’t been such a bitch to me, I’d feel sorry for her right now.

  “You the lady that thought my girl was a gold digger?” my father asks, turning his jackass back on.

  I cover my face with my hands, and Jax’s mother stammers like a kid who just got called out for bullying the principal’s daughter.

  “I… Well… We didn’t know… I’msosorry!” The last words are so rushed that it sounds like one word. Mrs. Marshall is suddenly a fourteen-year-old star-struck girl.

  Dad snickers again before kissing my head.

  “All is forgiven. Hope you don’t mind me joining the vacation. Couldn’t miss a chance to see my daughter in one of my favorite homes. We used to come here all the time.”

  Mrs. Marshall is freaking drooling, and nodding absently. Never thought that woman could be rendered speechless.

  “I’ll go get changed. Grab your swimsuit and meet me on the beach,” Dad says. He turns a pointed look at Jax. “You too, lover boy. My daughter better not have to swim alone.”

  Jax swallows a lump, and Dad starts laughing again before walking off.

  “He’s going to fuck with me the entire time he’s here, isn’t he?” Jax asks, turning toward me with horrified eyes.

  “Yes. Yes he is.”

  Jax groans, and I start snickering before jogging back up the stairs, leaving behind a shocked Mrs. Marshall as she continues to remain frozen to the sofa. On some level, I think she still doubted me until this moment.

  I don’t plan on immediately heading to the beach, but I don’t bother pointing that out to my father.

  As soon as we’re in the room, Jax spins me and pins me against the wall. Soooo wasn’t expecting that. His eyes lock on mine, and his lips twitch when my breathing increases to a pathetic, rapid rate.

  “You enjoyed watching him make me feel like a kid at a prom date’s house, didn’t you?” he muses.

  I can’t help but grin, and he rolls his eyes before brushing his lips against mine. What starts out as a barely-there graze turns into a tongue-war within seconds, and my fingers tangle in his hair as he pulls me tight against his body. When his hands cup my ass, I moan into his mouth.

  Alarm bells sound off in my head, and I snap back to reality enough to push him back. “He’ll come get us if we don’t hurry,” I lie, barely getting the breathy words out.

  Jax lets me go like I’m on fire, and he looks around like he’s a little lost.

  “I have nothing to wear.”

  A small smile lights my
lips, and I lean over to pick up a bag one of the house workers must have dropped off in here while we slept.

  “You do. It’s Pretty Posh. Don’t worry. We have men’s clothing as well. I’m good with sizes, so I’m sure it’ll fit. I also had some new phones sent over for everyone who lost theirs in the fire. Well, I asked Jane to, rather. She got the makes and models of your old ones from your sister.”

  His eyebrows go up, as I essentially reveal that other secret. Watching his dazed, confused, and awed look is becoming a little fun.

  However, brushing my teeth takes priority over watching him piece the puzzle together because I can’t keep getting kissed with morning breath.

  Chapter 13

  JAX

  “So your girlfriend is the secret daughter of our mother’s favorite rock legend, she owns—freaking OWNS—Pretty Posh, and she apparently doesn’t brag about anything. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a bitch that misjudged her,” Viv states, staring with me at the enigma across the room.

  My mother officially loves Bo now. In fact, Bo looks miserable about it, because my mother won’t shut the hell up. Did she just invite her to our next Christmas? It’s April!

  “I think you’ll be getting married soon,” Viv points out. “Mom will disown you if you break up with her now. Hope you were as serious as you were pretending to be.”

  Fuck my motherfucking life.

  “Is it wrong that she’s less sexy now that Mom likes her?” I ask jokingly, trying not to focus on how much Bo’s smile affects me these days. She’s not less sexy. Not even a little bit.

  She’s smiling at me right now, and she arches an eyebrow when my mother talks about grandkids. Fucking grandkids.

  Usually Bora would be running, because this shit is way too deep to keep standing in.

  Grandkids? Fucking really?

  “Could you imagine a little Jax with a guitar?!” Mom squeals, clapping happily. “He’d be a star without a doubt.”

  Viv smothers a laugh when I cast her a death glare. Bo, to my surprise, just laughs as well.

  I guzzle more of my fourth cup of coffee, wondering when the caffeine will wake me up. I have to be fucking dreaming.

  But then… coffee sprays from my lips; Mom releases some strangled sound while clutching her heart; Dad’s eyebrows fly up; and Viv’s cup drops and shatters to the ground, as Vince Jaggons struts in… wearing a speedo… and nothing else.

  “Holy sweet mother,” Mom whispers in a rasp voice while turning fifteen different shades of red and fanning herself.

  Dad glares at Vince, and I… try not to gag. I really don’t feel like seeing Bo’s father’s package on display in such a tight, red speedo.

  Bo groans while rolling her eyes. “I’ve sent you board shorts,” she says, eyeing her father. “Numerous times.”

  “They don’t show off as much,” Vince says dismissively before flexing. “A body like mine is meant to be shown off.”

  “Is it bad that I’m drooling over a man as old as our father?” Viv whispers, her eyes trained on the abs of the man strutting around the house like a damn star.

  Well, I guess he is a star. And it is his house. Not like I can comment.

  “Gross,” is all I tell her.

  “This isn’t the family vacation I had in mind,” Dad grumbles as he walks by us to grab his coffee, then he walks out of the kitchen and abandons us with Mr. Vanity.

  “I’m going to head out for a run. See you out there, babygirl,” Vince tells Bo before walking out. The freak actually slaps his own ass, and I swear my mother almost falls out of her chair when she tries to watch him walk away.

  “He’s on my ‘cheat’ list,” Mom whispers as she lowers herself back to her seat.

  I choke on my latest sip of coffee, and Bo’s nose wrinkles.

  “What?” Viv asks.

  “My ‘cheat’ list,” Mom repeats, still keeping the same hushed tone. “The list where you write five famous people you would… um… you know… and the other can’t get mad… Your father and I made one about fifteen years ago. Vince is number one on my list…”

  Bo tries not to laugh and has to turn away. My stomach roils. I really fucking hope my mother isn’t saying what I think she’s saying.

  Bo’s eyes land on me again, and a small blush creeps up her neck as she stares at my chest. I really like the way she keeps looking at me like she’s never seen my body before.

  I also really fucking like her bikini, which I couldn’t see until just now, because the table was hiding it with the way she was sitting.

  She walks over to me, and the strings dangle, taunting me, begging to be pulled loose. The top is black and it barely covers her breasts—breasts that look far more impressive than normal. And her ass… Yeah… I can’t even see it, but I know how good it will look in that bikini. Those red bikini bottoms… I swear they were made for her.

  A diamond dangles from her navel piercing, keeping my eyes fixed low. But my eyes narrow on one thing that has never been on her body before.

  “Is that a tattoo?” I ask, confused.

  Her footsteps freeze, and I swear she turns to stone as her eyes widen in a little fear. My eyes stay trained on the tattoo that’s creeping up just above her pubic bone, barely peeking out of the top of her bikini.

  Is that…What is that?

  She doesn’t budge when I come to her, and she gasps a little when I pick her up at the waist and sit her down on the counter to better examine it. When I start to pull down her bottoms, she grabs my hand.

  “Jax,” she hisses, and my eyes move over to see my sister raising an eyebrow at me. My mother is still staring longingly at the door Vince has long since disappeared out of, so she doesn’t notice.

  “What is it?” I ask, still trying to make it out. Is that a wing?

  “It’s a fairy. Can we talk about this later?”

  Fierce blush is lighting up her face, and she’s squirming awkwardly.

  A fucking fairy? “When did you get a tattoo? This looks old, but I know damn well it hasn’t been on there long, because it wasn’t on there last week.”

  She flinches like I’ve said something wrong. She doesn’t seem to like my hands on her. Hot and cold. That’s how she’s been running since we left Sterling Shore, and now there’s a tattoo?

  My lips purse, but she doesn’t make eye contact with me. A thought crosses my mind, but I push it away. The only explanations would be a body snatcher, a clone, or… a twin. But no. She’s never mentioned a twin, and there aren’t any pictures of one either.

  Still sticking to body snatchers.

  “Are we going swimming?” Viv asks when the silence stretches on and on.

  “Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat.

  Shy, sweet, blushing… Call me Bo. My head feels like a mountain of conspiracy theories right now. Skin deep. She wanted to talk. She has masterfully avoided all sexy situations… Bora and Bo are two different people, but… Fuck me. I really do sound like a conspiracy theorist.

  I grab my coffee as Bo hops off the counter, and I take a long swig, watching her with a studious eye as she walks over to grab a towel from a chair.

  Her walk is also different… Not as catwalk as it was. It’s more understated sexy—like the bedroom. My mind starts dissecting other little differences, adding too many more equations to solve.

  My mother’s gasp draws my attention away, and for the second time this morning, I spray my coffee everywhere. Another glass shatters to the floor when Viv sees the disaster in front of us.

  “Let’s go for that swim,” my dad chirps… wearing a motherfucking blue speedo.

  He struts out like Vince did, and my mother’s face turns twelve new shades of red as she looks at us with horrified eyes.

  “Congratulations, Mom,” Viv says around a snicker. “You’ve turned Dad into a jealous monster.”

  Chapter 14

  BO

  Jaxon Marshall Sr. is in a speedo and talking to my dad who is also in a speedo… Pretty sure
this is a bad start to a cheesy porno. Ugh. I really should have removed all the speedos in this house. No idea where Mr. Marshall got his, but I’m sure it was in one of the dressers supplied by the room he’s in.

  My dad is a speedo whore.

  Jax is standing with them, laughing with them, and being a little different since the tattoo incident.

  I can’t believe I forgot about that damn tattoo. I might as well have advertised the fact I’m not Bora. Me telling him in a mumble that it was fairly new but looked old on our way out here was a pathetic lie if I’ve ever heard one.

  Granted, I didn’t intend for Emily to send me the skimpiest freaking bikinis we have in our line. I also never thought I’d be in a position for Jax to see it. My goal was to not let him get that close, or me get that naked.

  I’m failing miserably at deception.

  There goes my dream of becoming a spy.

  I suck at lying. I suck at pretending to be Bora. I suck at life right now. It’s because I don’t have a life that I’m even in this position.

  My eyes drop down to the fairy wing that is sticking up past my bikini bottoms. Such a small wing has caused a lot of problems, but I love my meaningless tattoo. Yes, that’s right. There’s no deep-rooted meaning that holds a puzzle piece to my life.

  I like fairies. I think they’re pretty. So I got a fairy tattooed on me, because I wanted it and no other reason. Being spontaneous has never been an issue for me.

  When Ruby Kross—my best friend—first got her license, I volunteered to be her first human subject. So did her dad. It was exciting for her and me, because I was finally getting something to set me apart from Bora.

  My entire life, Bora has gotten whatever hairstyle I had, whatever piercing I have, and even the same sunglasses. I don’t get the sunglasses, but hey.

  I’ve done the same, so don’t think it’s one-sided.

  Poor Bora even got that horrendous cut the hack-job hairdresser gave me. Fairly sure it was a disastrous attempt at a bowl cut. I looked like a boy, because I was still flat-chested at the time, and too young for makeup. Bora took on that style—if that’s what you can call it—out of sympathy so I wouldn’t be the only one crying.