Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

I give her all of my need and desire. All of my fears and weaknesses. And then all of my love and devotion, making sure every inch of me is for her to come alive around, to spark and breathe, and then to fall to pieces, unraveling under me as she reaches her climax and clings to my body with everything she’s got. I pour into her, emphasizing with each kiss, thrust and touch how much I love and adore her. Endlessly.

  Forever.

  It’s official.

  Binding.

  And infinite.

  I caress her shoulder blades and spine as we lay spent on the cool sheets in our luxury suite, watching the rise and fall of her breath, memorizing her skin and how soft and fragrant and warm Katy is. How much I love her and could never imagine not being able to have this woman like this in my life.

  Softly, she chuckles.

  “Should we be worried that no one has called?” I ask, wrapped between the sheets and the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes (or my body) on.

  “I think no news is good news,” she says with a laugh. “But we could call. Maybe we should.”

  “I’d love to, honestly.” I stay exactly in place, not moving.

  She squints her eyes. “But?”

  “But . . .” I sigh, “I also know that I need to let go a bit too. Learn to trust that she will be fine.”

  “I love that you care so much.” She kisses me.

  “Yeah, I mean, you know, it’s not like employing our dog walker to watch our child is a bad idea. It’s not like she believes in soothing a baby with a fog horn whistle or anything.”

  “Wh-what?” Katy laughs. Well, half laughs, half looks terrified.

  “Some weird thing that she showed me. Apparently it makes babies stop crying.” I show her the noise with my lips.

  “Hmm.”

  “Stupid as shit, right?” I sit up. “I knew it. We should go home.”

  “No.” Katy laughs, gripping at my shoulders. “I was actually thinking that could be put to use with more than a crying baby.”

  I look over my shoulder at her. “Say what?”

  She mimics the sound with her lips over the bare skin of my shoulder. “Imagine how that would feel, you know . . . ” Her brows raise.

  “Ohhh.”

  Katy bursts with laughter, falling back to the sheets as I tackle her, blowing that sound across her body until I reach . . . you know.

  Six

  Katy

  Did I say I liked working? Because it’s kind of hard to persuade myself that going to work is a good idea when I look at Rosey sleeping on Ford’s chest. It’s still early in the morning and I should be leaving for work in less than fifteen minutes but there is no way—mother lion or not—that I am walking out the door while this kind of perfection is here in front of me. Her little body rises and falls with her breath, looking every bit as gorgeous as her sleeping father. I slip off my heels and leave my bag by the dresser, and then crawl up to them, sliding back under the sheets. Ford stirs, glancing over at me with his eyes just barely open.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, all deep and raspy. My nerves flutter as he finally looks at me, those brilliant eyes of his filled with the warm glow of the sun as it peeks in through the curtains of our high-rise building. How did I get him? How did I get this life? I don’t believe much in luck, but shit do I feel like I won the lottery—this once in a lifetime type of prize, when I look at them.

  I softly put my hand on Rosey’s back, rubbing small circles over her delicate little body swaddled in light pink cotton pajamas. She’s warm and fragrant, smelling of something heavenly and floral. Her tight dark ringlets nestle against her scalp, dark and defining, looking like a doll carved from porcelain. She’s so perfect and beautiful.

  I smile at Ford as he waits for my answer. “Everything is perfect.”

  And what I love most about him is that he just knows me. So instead of firing off fifty more questions, he just smiles and reaches for me, pulling me into him and the Rosey snuggles. I’m feeling warm and loved and perfectly freaking content—so much so that I can close my eyes and begin to drift.

  And then there is a two-hundred pound weight on my legs. And mouth breathing hot foul air against my face.

  “Warrior,” I half-laugh, half-whine. “You big lug. You’re crushing me.”

  Ford calls him over with one word, and just like that, he reminds me why he’s definitely the King of our concrete crazy ass jungle.

  As I look at them—Warrior, Ford, and Rosey—three beings that love unconditionally, I have to tell you, being Queen of the castle isn’t so bad either.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you so much for reading this collection. I truly hope you enjoyed each and every story.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Kyla

  Bad decisions always seem like a good idea. Cozumel in the Spring probably wasn’t the best choice for a woman like me. Noel’s idea for me to come to a place like this just goes to show your therapist doesn’t always know best. I mean, looking around, it’s nothing but a bunch of college kids on spring break. There’s rock hard abs in every direction, and string bikinis too.

  Liquor of every variety is the drink of choice around here. It doesn’t matter the flavor or taste, because the name of the game is how quickly you can consume your weight in alcohol in the shortest amount of time possible.

  Crazy, really. Or maybe I am, for agreeing to this.

  Maybe I’m in the middle of my mid-life crisis. Well, I’m only thirty, so hopefully I live long past sixty. Maybe it’s a mid mid-life crisis. Actually... it’s a divorce crisis. Never thought I’d say that. It’s tragic how quickly things can fall apart. How the stress of miscarriage after miscarriage can weigh so heavy on something you thought was solid until it’s suddenly fractured. But this vacation is just what the doctor ordered—a break from watching your world crumble to bits.

  An oversized man-child, the size of a linebacker, barrels toward me as I step into the lobby of the Mirage.

  “Sorry,” he apologizes as he passes, slowing down to give me a once over.

  I make a mental note to call Noel and tell her this place was definitely the wrong choice.

  Ignoring the man-child, I slide my Chanel shades on top of my head and cross the marble floor toward the hotel lounge. I’ve been here a mere two hours, and already the bar is looking like the place I’ll be spending most of my time. The tropical lounge is like being outside, without being outside—potted baby palms, bamboo everything, view of the beach, and colorful flowers draped along the bar.

  “Pina Colada, please,” I request from the bartender, sliding onto a wicker-backed stool.

  “Make that two,” a masculine voice orders from behind my shoulder before taking a seat right next to me. Ocean-colored eyes glance over at me. “How’s the knee?”

  “Just a scratch,” I answer, unable to look away from the raven-haired man—definitely a man, not a boy— and his slow smile.

  Finally, I tear my eyes from his ruggedly handsome face and watch the bartender pour the ingredients into the blender.

  “Paradise, right?”

  My attention leaves the blender, and I glance over at him. “Yeah, that’s what they say.”

  “You don’t agree? Look around.” He gives a head nod toward the panoramic windows. “It’s beautiful here.”r />
  “I haven’t seen much besides the ruins.”

  “Trust me, you’ll love it here.” He plays with the coaster in front of him, spinning it in his hands as we wait for our drinks.

  “Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

  He smiles wide. “Well that can change.”

  I eye him for a second. “When in Rome, right?”

  “That’s what they say.” He stops spinning the coaster. “You here alone?”

  “Yes.”

  He assesses and undresses me from head to toe. “Good.”

  I swivel in my barstool to face him, just as the bartender hands us our blended drinks. “Why is that good?” I ask, taking a big sip and wincing when the brain freeze sets in.

  “You have to be careful of brain freeze,” the man says with a grin.

  “I know.” I rub my temple. “Are you here alone?”

  “I’m not now,” he says with a smile, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Mason.”

  “Kyla,” I tell him, while our hands embrace.

  Kyla,” he repeats. His husky voice is like a flint, causing all kinds of sparks to ignite. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Mason,” I say, letting his name roll off my tongue.

  “How long you here for?”

  “A few days, you?”

  He takes a sip of his drink. “Same.”

  I glance out at the jewel tone water. In Miami, the Atlantic Ocean is a dark blue. Here, it’s a bright aquamarine color, and I can’t stop staring at it. I bring my attention back to him. “What do you plan on doing here?”

  He runs his eyes over my body once again. “That depends…”

  “On?”

  “You.”

  I blush. Not really sure what to say to that.

  He shifts in his seat to face me. “I have an idea,” he starts, “since I’m here alone…”

  I gaze at his lips, watching him say the words.

  “...and you’re here alone.” He moves closer. “Have dinner with me.”

  I chew on my bottom lip. That frayed thread holding back my emotions snaps inside me, and I decide to live life with reckless abandon, or stupidity. “Ok,” I agree.

  We finish our drinks, and before leaving him at the bar, I brazenly tell him I’ll knock on his door in an hour.

  Back in my hotel room, I shower and then dress in the slinky coral cocktail dress and nude heels I brought to wear for the first night. Drowned memories of wearing this dress at Colin’s company party, and how he couldn’t get it off fast enough when we returned home, rise to the surface, gasping for life. None of that, I remind myself, dabbing on some gloss.

  I leave my blonde hair in soft waves, grab my clutch, and head toward what might be a mistake.

  A crowd of people, smelling like suntan lotion and surf, swarm the elevator when I get off on the sixth floor. A tow-headed little girl darts by me and her mom chastises her before her dad swoops her up into his arms. My chest burns watching what I can’t seem to have as I follow the numbers down the gold-carpeted hallway to room six-fourteen.

  I knock, and when the door opens everything is forgotten when I’m assaulted by skin. Lots of golden, lean-muscled skin in a white towel wrapped low on his hips.

  “Hey,” Mason greets me.

  “I, uh, take it you’re going casual?”

  A few water droplets trail slowly down his muscle-clad pecs. “Sorry, I’ll just be a minute.” He moves aside. “Come in.”

  I’d have to be an idiot not to see the carnal look in his eyes as his gaze roams lazily down my body, making me feel like he just removed what I’m wearing. Not going to lie, I do the same to him before stepping inside to a large suite identical to mine with the endless ocean crashing outside the wall of glass.

  “Enjoy the view,” he says with a slight smirk, before heading toward the bathroom.

  And the view is spectacular. Broad shoulders and lean muscles lead down to a perfectly curved ass attached to long legs.

  Trying not to gawk at him, I study the photos of palm trees and wicker rockers on porches on the walls. Not near as interesting as him. He’s sexy fresh out of the shower. I always liked Colin right out of the shower. It’s weird, I know, but there’s just something about heated skin, wet hair, and overall cleanliness that does something inside my chest. I’d forgotten how much of an aphrodisiac it was until now. Forgotten how much I haven’t felt, until now.

  He closes the door, and I suck in a deep breath.

  I can do this. Then again, maybe not.

  His sex appeal is on full display when he exits the bathroom in black slacks and a pristine white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to expose the arm porn. He pockets his wallet and key card and then we head up to the resort’s expensive restaurant, located atop the hotel, and grab an intimate table with a view of the water.

  “It’s beautiful here,” I say to him, looking out at the pink-painted sky and the waves lapping along the shore.

  “Yes, it his,” he replies, not taking his eyes off of me.

  This is so not me. I’d never meet a stranger under these circumstances and throw caution to the wind. Divorce will make you do crazy things though.

  Normally, I wake up, clean, sequester myself in my office at home to work on websites I design, cook dinner, and that’s about the extent of my day.

  On the weekends, Colin and I used to enjoy each other’s company. We used to go out for dinner and dancing, and take long walks in the park near our home. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Those days are long gone now.

  I’m pretending none of that matters; to hell with it. I vow to myself not to question anything for the next few days, and just go with the flow. I am water. Right before I left, Noel instructed me not to think about my husband and what used to be while on my trip. So, I push thoughts, memories, and everything from my past deep down and try to enjoy the moment here with Mason, the sexy stranger before me.

  We chat for a while, nothing but superficial things, and it’s easy. It’s fun pretending I’m someone I’m not. His attention has been solely on me, and I have to say I’m loving every bit of it. So much, I drink one too many frozen cocktails with fruity names.

  “Tell me why someone as beautiful as you is here alone?”

  “I’m going through a divorce.”

  He blinks. “Ouch.”

  I was probably supposed to say something lighter and flirtatious, but the alcohol has loosened my tongue. I nod, taking one more sip of my fruity concoction. “My therapist thought I should come here.”

  He doesn’t smile. “Therapist, huh?”

  I wave a hand. “I’m not crazy, promise.”

  Now his smile breaks loose. “I didn’t think you were. Just maybe lost?”

  I stir the melting drink into a mini whirlpool. “I’m very lost. I think.” Another sip. “What about you?”

  He rubs the stubble on his chin. “I’m not lost. I’m right where I need to be.”

  He’s better at this than I am. The wind picks up, skating through my hair, making my insides tense with longing. My nipples harden underneath the thin lacy material of my dress. “And where’s that?”

  He pays the bill, and grabs my hand. It feels good to have my hand held again. “No telling. I’ll show you.”

  He leads me to the elevator and caution swells inside me, bubbling to the surface. Should I really be doing this?

  The lift dings, and the doors slide open.

  “After you,” his deep voice says.

  How can anyone sound that sexy?

  It’s been so long since I’ve been aroused just by a deep voice and a smile. But, it’s happening. I step into the elevator, moving away from him to stand in the corner.

  “I don’t bite,” he says with a smile that could crumble nations.

  “Unless I want you to?” I ask, seeing if he was going to say the lamest, most cliche, comeback.

  He holds up both hands. “Hey, you said it. Not me.”

  I g
iggle. He’s cute.

  Then, he sucks all the air out of the elevator when he steps closer to me. I can’t breathe. I don’t think I even want to breathe anymore, I just want him to keep getting closer.

  The doors close, and he hits a button. I don’t even know which button, nor do I care, because I’m too focused on the intensity in his baby blues.

  Best eye color award goes to him.

  Best heart attack moment as well when he rests his palm against the wall next to my head, and my heart stops beating. Literally. You may think I’m speaking figuratively, but literally, my heart skips a beat. Maybe it’s a palpitation brought on by him.

  Then his other arm goes up, boxing me in. He leans in, his nose almost touching mine. “Do you want me to bite, Kyla?”

  I swallow.

  “Uhh…” is all that comes out of my mouth because his close proximity has rendered me virtually speechless.

  He steps back, dropping his arms as if he wasn’t under the same spell of attraction. “It’s settled. There will be biting.”

  The elevator doors swoosh open, and Mason holds out his hand for me to take.

  And I do.

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  Sneak Peek of Cold Hearted Baller

  The Cold Hearted Series is a fresh new series that offers tons of laughs and many sexy, sizzling scenes.

  Read on for a sneak peek…

  I have three superstitions I live by:

  1. No dating all season.

  2. Don’t jinx a no-hitter while one’s in progress.

  3. Be cold-hearted. If you find something you think about more than baseball, destroy it.

  Calliope Thomas is one of those things. Ever since she left a bad review on the Max Energy Drink I endorse, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Obviously, when she said she hoped I had a losing season, I had to meet her and get her to take the words back.