But instead of being excited and giddy, I feel like the air is being pulled from my lungs and not because Bolt's taking my breath away.
He's being weird and distant, almost like he doesn't want me around. He barely said two words to me on the plane, keeping his eyes out the window practically the entire time.
He's not acting like himself, and I'm not sure how to respond to it. My brain is trying to dissect every little movement, every little twitch and blink.
He's got to be nervous, that's what it is.
I’m nervous too, meeting his parents is kind of a big deal. They will be learning the good news, that they gained a daughter-in-law, without ever having met me. My mother would freak if I was doing this to her, and not knowing them—who knows what they'll say.
It'll all be fine. Bolt likes me, why wouldn't his parents?
I'm trying not to work myself up, so when he reaches out to take my hand, and we walk off the plane with our fingers tangled together, my worry subsides. It feels like he hasn’t touched me in ages, so his hand is a welcome weight in my palm.
Every muscle relaxes instantly, letting my arm hang loose and a smile emerge on my face.
He likes me, that's all that matters.
“Are your parents meeting us here?” I ask.
“No, they're meeting us at the resort.” His face is set forward as he speaks, but I feel his thumb circle my knuckle, making my heart flutter.
I know we're not a real couple, but I think somewhere along the way I crossed a bridge, and I'm not sure I know how to get back over.
Maybe it's childish for me to view our situation as two star-crossed lovers who stumbled upon each other while caught in the rain. But my feelings for him are real, and inside I'm hoping his are too.
Bolt seems to enjoy being with me. He smiles when he sees me, and his skin blushes when I get naked. He has to like me more than just a friend or employee, more than just a prop on his arm.
Right? His actions seem to suggest there's more between us than just a contract.
They're not. Why are you expecting any more than what you agreed to?
Exiting the terminal, there are men beating drums and hula dancers entertaining the passengers as they walk into the airport. We're met at the end of air-bridge by a woman holding a Hawaiian lei with a huge smile on her face.
Placing the ring of flowers around my neck, she moves to Bolt, but he declines. “No, but thank you.”
“You don't want one?” I ask, brushing my fingers across the petals. “It's beautiful.”
“Eh, it's itchy.”
“Is it real?” Touching the flowers, I lift one to my nose and smell it. “It smells real.” Holding it out, I'm blown away by how perfect each flower is.
Every flower looks identical, as if they all came from the same mold. The purple color is strong and vibrant, the petals feel like velvet, so soft and delicate against my skin.
“They just give you one of these for free?” I ask as I rub one of the flowers against my cheek. “It's so soft.”
“Yup, welcome to Hawaii.” Bolt releases my hand and holds out his arms. “Yale, you're still alive.” His voice explodes happily, with a teasing undertone as he walks forward. “I wasn't sure you'd make it.”
“That makes two of us.” Yale smiles, then glances in my direction. “Starla,” he says with a nod.
Waving, I smile back. “Hey, Yale. Check this out, pretty, huh?” Tugging on my lei, I run my thumb back and forth over the string.
“Here,” Yale says, taking the lei off his neck and placing it around mine. “This thing makes me itch.”
“See, itchy,” Bolt says with a flash of a smile. Turning back to Yale, he grabs his shoulder and gives him a shake. “Let's get this party started.” Wrapping his arm around my neck, he kisses the top of my head. “You're going to love Hawaii, Star.”
I don’t doubt Bolt is right, Hawaii is fucking gorgeous. There’s nothing but thick, lush forest all around us. Tall palm trees tower over the resort, lining the driveway up to the front entrance. Everything is brighter and bigger than in the states.
Bright orange flowers, bold green leaves, exotic pinks and purples. The leaves are twice the size of my torso, birds flying around overhead that look prehistoric, and bugs on steroids. It’s a totally different world.
The sprawling trees open in front of us, and my mouth drops open. “Oh my God, Bolt.”
On the edge of a cliff stands a white hotel, with palm trees coming out of the roof and black glass windows. Two columns hold up a giant overhang like the pillars of Hercules.
Sitting in awe, my eyes are plastered out the window, unable to fully grasp that I'm actually here. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd be here.
“You coming?” Bolt asks, his breath hot against my neck. “Or do you just want to stay here?”
Twisting to look at him over my shoulder, Bolt is standing outside with his hand extended. I’m the only one left in the car, the only one that has obviously lived in a bubble for most of her life.
The driver hands our bags over to a bellhop who places them on a cart. Bolt takes my hand again as he chats with Yale and leads us to the front entrance.
I can smell the salt in the air from the ocean and hear the waves as they crash. Just beyond the resort, my eyes catch a glimpse of a glistening ocean with the reflection of the sun dancing across the surface.
“Holy shit, this is incredible,” I say out loud, but I don't think either of the men are captivated like I am.
Bolt and Yale are still talking, unfazed and unimpressed. But how can I expect anything different? Bolt has traveled the world, he's seen things I've only read about in books. This is nothing to them, just another day.
The glass doors slide open, and we walk into the resort. There's a giant painting of a man and a woman in the lobby behind the front desk. They're both holding out their hands, and they look like they're catching the ocean. The woman has a flower crown around her head and the man is wearing one around his neck.
Tipping my head back, the ceiling is nothing but glass panels. The sky is the bluest I've ever seen it, and the clouds don't even look real. I feel like I stepped into a Bob Ross painting.
“This is insane. I'm dreaming, I have to be dreaming.”
“It's real, Star, and you're living it.” Bolt's mouth presses against my ear, his voice cool and sexy. “It feels good when your dreams come true, doesn't it?” The way he says it sends my body into a tizzy. My heart is racing, my stomach is flipping, and my pussy is watering like it’s hungry.
He drags his mouth slowly across the outside of my ear, causing goosebumps to jump across my skin like a rock across water. Bouncing over the surface, they reach places no one can see, until they hit my toes and disappear.
“Hello.” A deep and raspy man's voice cuts into my brain, breaking the spell Bolt has on my body. “Bolt…There's a smile in his tone, a pleasant and happy smile. “It's about time you got here. I thought I would have seen you weeks ago.”
Turning, I see an older man with his arms out, his face cut in similar angles to Bolt. His head is shiny, his brows are gray, and he's wearing the same frown lines Bolt gets when he's upset or frustrated.
His father. He has to be his father.
My heart jumps into my throat, and a wave of heat turns my stomach. That man has an aura that commands the room. He's approaching us in a well-tailored Armani suit, with expensive shoes to match. His eyes are sternly on Bolt, but they seem to take notice of everything else around him.
Without looking, I know he sees Yale and the bellhop, he sees the clerk at the front desk and finally me at Bolt's side.
Gliding his hands down the front of his chest, he flaps his suit open wide, only to guide it back into place. Holding his head high, he reaches his arm back and pulls a woman to his side.
Where the hell was she hiding?
The woman touches his wrist softly as her eyes settle on us and she smiles. Her silver hair is pulled up into a ti
ght bun, and she's wearing a flowy sundress that reaches her ankles. She looks like she's trying to fit in with the laid back Hawaiian theme, but her heavy jewelry and thick gold bracelets are making her stand out against the crowd.
“Dad, Mom,” Bolt lets go of my hand and walks to them, embracing each one.
His mother holds his arm, and her smile is perfect. She looks so happy to see him, and he looks genuinely happy to see both of them. They talk for a minute a few feet away while I stand quietly in the background letting them.
My hands are starting to sweat, so I rub them up and down my thighs. I can feel my anxiety start to rise as their eyes flick to me, then back to Bolt, then back to me. The room around us fades, and it begins to feel like we're the only ones standing in the lobby.
Their eyes suck the air out of my lungs, leaving me weak, unable to inhale a decent pull of oxygen or swallow the lump in my throat.
“Mom, Dad, I want you to meet someone.” Bolt turns to me and takes my hand, pulling me into his family circle. “This is Starla. . .” His parents are all smiles and bright eyes, their expressions welcoming and warm. Then two single words come out of his mouth, and everything about them seems to change. “My wife.”
His mother's eyes roll up and down my body, examining me, my clothes, my shoes, the fact I'm not wearing a bra. . . She looks embarrassed for me, like I'm making a fool of myself and I'm too blind to see it.
“Your what?” his mother asks, holding a hand to her chest as her jaw falls open in shock.
“My wife.” Bolt says it without pause, louder and more defined as he pulls me closer, and wraps his arm around my waist. “We met a couple months ago, and I just knew, I knew it immediately. I wanted to marry her.” He grins at me, his eyes staring deep into mine. “Star, this is my father Vincent, and my mother Claudette.”
Holding out my hand, my voice comes out crackly and flat. “It's so nice to meet you both.” They shake my hand, but reluctantly, barely touching it at all. Nervously, I glance around the room. “This place, this place is the shit, seriously, it's gorgeous.” Even as I say it, I want to stop myself, but can't.
The shit? What the hell is that?
My nerves are shining, taking center stage and making me sound like an idiot. Which is the last thing I want. I want to make a good impression, but his parents are a lot more intimidating than I expected.
His father pulls his hand away and wipes it down the side of his hip. “I guess you're right, it is—the shit—I suppose.” His voice wavers for a moment, full of disappointment.
Why did I say that?
“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sheckler, but would it be all right if the butler just brings your bags to your room?”
“We have a butler? Damn, I've never had a butler before.”
“Oh yeah?” his father asks, quirking a brow.
Nodding, I let my eyes move to the chandelier hanging above us. “Holy shit, look at that. How the hell did they get that up there? It's freaking huge. I thought the one at the mall was big, but this one puts it to shame.”
What are you doing, Starla? Get control of yourself!
I'm a rambling, bumbling, dumb-ass, and I can't seem to gain control of the words spewing from my mouth. Everything that comes out seems to top the previous statement. I'm making a fool of myself.
The sad thing is, I know it. I know it and I can’t shut it off. This is one of my downfalls. Awkward situations make my tongue have word vomit and my brain throws out letter soup.
“Mm, yes, it's huge. So, I need to ask, where are you from, dear? And how did you meet my son?” His mother's tone makes the hair on my arms bristle as she drifts her eyes between us, letting them freeze on Bolt.
“Oh,” Yale cuts in, way too over enthusiastic about sharing information. “She's from Crest Village, and…” He pauses as his lips thin into a pleased smile, “she's the new intern.” His eyes move to mine, and there's something in them that seers my insides.
The look is quick, but powerful, sending me into a spiral of anger. It feels like he’s trying to sabotage this meeting and make me feel like I'm less than them. I don't like it.
If we weren't in front of Bolt's parents, I probably would have slapped him. But I refrain from physical violence, and glare at him, wishing I could shoot razors from my eyes.
“Really? The intern, huh?” The way his father says it sends a sharp pain through my chest. I can hear the disapproval in his voice as his lips turn down into a thick grimace.
Bolt strokes his jaw and smirks. “She was the intern, now she's my wife.”
His father and mother glance at each other briefly. Returning his eyes to his son, Vincent points a feigned finger in our direction. “Our son married the intern…”
Clearing her throat, his mother tips her head into her shoulder and softly touches her husband's arm. “Let's focus on the reunion for now, we can discuss this all later.”
There’s this silence that settles between all of us, an awkward, uncomfortable silence that's pressing on my shoulders, attempting to throw me to the ground. Bolt and his dad are eyeing each other, while his mother glares at me like a queen would to a peasant.
Why did Yale do that?
He didn't have the right to tell them any of that. They weren't asking him, they were asking Bolt and me.
The air around us is growing thicker, and I’m having trouble breathing. Something about this feels weird, it fees off.
What is going on right now?
Letting out a chuckle, his father shakes his head, ignoring Claudette. “Your wife, just like that? You meet her and you run off and get married?”
“We got married in the Cape, it was perfect.” Bolt holds his head high, his smile almost sinister. “Sorry we didn't tell you, we were just so excited, we couldn't wait another minute.”
“Well,” his mother claps her hands and forces a smile, changing the subject. “I know you had a long flight, and it's getting late. Why don't you get settled, and we'll meet up in the morning.”
Bolt nods and grabs my hand tighter than he ever has before. “Sounds good. We could use the rest. Jet lag is a killer.”
Tugging me along, I call out over my shoulder, “It was nice to meet you!”
His parents both smile and nod, turning and disappearing down the hall in the opposite direction. Fuck, I screwed up. I wanted to impress them, I wanted them to love me and embrace me, but it was nothing like that all.
Yale ruined it, he made me look like a low life clam digger. As if being the intern means I'm after his money. Those few words sealed who I was in their eyes, and I’m not sure I'll have the chance to change their minds.
We're standing in the elevator as I let out a breath. It's long and winded and it isn't until right then that I realize I had been holding it in. “That was mildly uncomfortable.”
“You're telling me.”
“How'd I do?” I ask, pulling our tangled hands against my chest and holding them firmly with my free hand. “Think they bought it?”
“Oh yeah, they bought it.”
“So I did good then? Because I wasn't sure. After Ya—”
Pinching my chin, he lifts my face to his. “You did fucking amazing, baby.” Kissing me hard, Bolt devours my lips in the elevator like a starving animal. “I don't know why this lie is such a turn on, but, damn,” he says against my mouth, not letting me pull my head away, “I want you.”
Walking me back against the wall, his hand is in my hair, coiling deep into my roots. With my back pressed against the rail, I kiss him back. I want him just as much as he wants me.
There's no denying the attraction I feel for Bolt. Thick muscles, strong features, bright eyes, smooth skin; he's the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.
And right now, he's mine. Even if it's by default.
His tongue is in my mouth, swirling across my tongue as it slips over the inside of my cheek and across my pallet. My pussy is drenched, dripping down my inner thigh as he yanks my head back with one ha
rd jerk.
Like hormonal teenagers, our hands are all over each other, and we're panting like animals in the sun on a hot day. I know I need to take a breath, but I don't want to stop kissing him. It feels too good, too perfect, too right.
Bolt sweeps me off my feet, spinning on his heels and pinning me against the opposite wall. My ass crashes into the elevator doors, and Bolt uses his weight to keep me in place.
With the base of his palm, Bolt slaps the large red button, causing the elevator to jerk to a stop. The lights inside our sex box flicker softly, making Bolt's eyes burst with yellow and orange sparks.
Right now, nothing in the world could feel better than being trapped in an elevator with a man that is quietly taking pieces of my heart for himself. He leaves me breathless.
His mouth moves down my neck as he scoops my ass under his forearm and uses his free hand to grab my breast.
My legs wrap snugly around his hips, hands tangling in his hair. Bolt's mouth moves lower as he lifts my shirt and takes my nipple in his mouth. Sucking my tit, he flicks my nipple with the tip of his tongue. Faster and faster his tongue swirls and laps, making my head spin.
“Mm,” I moan, dropping my head back. Grinding my pussy against his abs, I inhale a sharp breath as he bites my nipple. “Fuck me, fuck me before I lose my mind.”
The warmth off my body is spilling down my inner thighs. I'm fucking soaked, rubbing myself against his stomach because my clit is throbbing and my body is in need.
“You need my cock, don't you, my dirty little secret?” Jerking his hips, his dick pokes my pussy through my pants, making me let out another moan. “Do you like when I call you that? My dirty little secret?”
“I love it, I love being your dirty little secret.” My thighs become a vice around his waist. I’m never letting go.
Tearing at the band of my pants, Bolt sets me down and spins me so my cheek is now against the cold metal door. Gripping the base of my neck, he bends me forward more as he pulls my pants down over my ass.
“Want me to fuck you, my dirty little secret? Want me to fuck you hard and deep?”
“Yes, fuck me, don't tease me. Tease me and you might just regret it.” Moving my ass side to side, I push back against his dick.
The Convenient Wife Page 11