Hot Shot (American Royalty Book 3)

by Robin Bielman

  Gabby studies me like she can read my thoughts, damn her. She often can. “Have you?” she challenges.

  “Mostly.” I can’t lie for anything.

  “Alejandra Cruz, derrame ahora.” Spill right now.

  “I’m a little conflicted,” I admit.

  “A little?” She raises her sculpted eyebrows.

  “Okay, a lot. I tried to keep my feelings to a minimum, but Drew made it impossible. He’s…he’s…” I struggle for the right words because whatever I say out loud will make it more real and less imagined, and because I don’t want to say something that isn’t true. Something that is too much, but not enough.

  “Making you doubt what you had with Matthew?”

  I weigh that statement in my mind. Matthew has and always will deserve my respect. “No, not doubt. I was really lucky to have Matthew as a boyfriend. You know that. He was—he is—a great guy. But the way my heart pounds when I’m around Drew is unlike anything I’ve felt before. He feels like home and an adventure. He gives me wings and a safety net.”

  “You love him,” Gabby says.

  Now I want to cry. Because I do. I love him. But it’s only been a month. And how can I love him and still feel something for Matthew? How can I put seven years in the same category as several weeks? What if I tell Matthew I’m seeing someone and he isn’t and he wants me back? What if—

  “Stop with all the what-ifs.” Gabby lightly pushes my shoulder to shake me from my contemplations.

  What if Drew isn’t in love with me?

  I fall back onto a pile of pillows, torn up inside. Life is too hard at the moment.

  “Matthew left,” Gabby says softly. “And I know your breakup was friendly, but it wasn’t even. He wanted it more than you did—you have to remember that.” She crawls over and lies beside me. “I don’t think you should even consider his feelings anymore. Think of yourself and what you want. Don’t stop dating Drew, or feel guilty for having feelings for him just because you feel a sense of loyalty to Matthew. Matt gave up any right to you the minute he got on that airplane.”

  “I know.” I turn onto my side. “But we did promise each other we’d meet.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to.”

  “It does. He’s still my…friend. And I can’t move forward without seeing him.”

  She rolls to her side to face me. “Actually, that’s a good point.”

  “I can’t decide if I want time to speed up or slow down,” I say.

  “I wish I hadn’t ruined that night for you.”

  “What night?”

  “The first time you met Drew at the bar. If I hadn’t wrecked that night for you with douchebag Landon, you would have gone home with him.”

  “Might have,” I correct.

  “Oh, you would have because I would have made you.” She gets a wicked look in her eyes. “Or gone home with him myself.”

  “Gabby!”

  “Aha! See, that right there confirms you’ve got it bad for our resident hotelier.”

  I bury my face in the pillow. When I’m finished grinning into the cotton, I peek at her. She’s sitting up and eating a cookie. She hands me one.

  “I do,” I admit as I sit up, too. “And I wish I had all the answers.”

  “You will soon enough.”

  While we eat our weight in junk food in easy silence, my mind wanders to Drew and his grandma’s birthday party. I’ve been meaning to buy her a gift. Something for her to remember me by.

  “Ready for a movie?” I ask and Gabby nods. I grab the remote to find a chick flick on the television just as Gabby’s phone, face down in the center of our blanket, chimes with a text. She lifts the phone so I can see the face and says, “If it’s him I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s not him. It’s Alan.”

  She reads the text. “He and some friends have rented a house in Newport for the long weekend and he wants to know if I’d like to join them. This is perfect! I have clients on Saturday, but I can drive up and back.” She thumbs a reply.

  “How did he—”

  “I texted him when I was waiting for you in the parking garage.” She finishes her text and puts the phone down. “And I forgot to tell you, the house is supposed to be done next Friday so I’ll just move back in a little sooner. It should be fine.”

  “I don’t think Drew would mind if you stayed here.”

  She plucks a chocolate chip off a cookie and places it in her mouth. “He would so mind. I am not getting in the way of your sex-capades, little sister.”

  I roll my eyes at ‘little sister.’

  The ‘sex-capades’ remark puts Drew front and center in my mind again. I swallow hard, my head and heart overflowing with different emotions contending for dominance. Drew is so many good things, I can’t count them all, and I can’t wait until he’s back tomorrow.

  He’s important to me.

  Arguably more important than Matthew.

  But what has mattered for the past eleven months and twenty-one days, is seeing Matthew again and finding out where we stand, and I can’t ignore that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fireworks

  Drew

  The suite smells like strawberries.

  I close the door behind me, anticipation beating down my exhaustion. The room is quiet, dark except for the glow of light coming from the direction of my bedroom. I walk toward the illumination and the scent of my favorite fruit, hoping I find Alejandra in my bed. I don’t even care if we get naked, I just want to hold her in my arms and whisper how much I missed her. How I can’t stop thinking about her. How my days drag on so much longer when she’s not in them so she should always be in them.

  Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, one final beam of red-yellow sunlight smolders on the horizon. I narrow my eyes to extinguish it. I’ve got my own personal ray of sunshine waiting for me around the corner, her soft singing of ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ hitting my ears and alerting me to her presence.

  Ever have a dream about the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on taking a bubble bath in your bedroom, candles lit around the tub, their head reclined back so you can stare at their profile while their voice, very much off-key but it doesn’t matter, croons to an imaginary soundtrack?

  Not a dream, my sleep-addled brain says.

  I let out a deep breath and take a minute to enjoy the perfect reality in front of me. Alejandra has a folded towel underneath the back of her head. Bubbles float atop the water. But lucky me, the whirlpool tub with blue chromo lighting features a glass-front panel design so I get glimpses of her naked body lounging in the circulating water. It’s sexy as hell and all the invitation I need. I slide off my suit coat. Peel off my tie.

  She’s singing with her eyes closed, her arms resting on the sides of the fiberglass.

  I pull my belt through the loops of my slacks then drop it on the floor. The buckle clanks lightly on the rug, but Alejandra doesn’t acknowledge it. I should probably call out a hello—I don’t want to scare her—but I’m enjoying watching and listening to her too much. If that makes me a creeper, so be it.

  My shoes and socks come off next. Then the rest of my clothes hit the floor.

  I’m about to let her know I’m here when a loud boom sounds from outside. Her eyes fly open. She registers the Fourth of July fireworks outside at the same time she sees me.

  “How long have you been standing there naked?”

  “Long enough to check you out and then get undressed.” I step closer. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  It could be argued that right now the brilliant energy between Alejandra and me is more substantial than the display lighting up the sky.

  The air is crackling.

  With heat. Desire. Affection. And…eagerness. Or maybe it’s delight. Delight that we’re back together in the same room.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  She taps her chin. “Hmm. I don’t know. Are you going to behave?”

  “Do you want me to
behave?”

  She glances at my dick, getting harder by the second, and shakes her head. No.

  “He’ll take that under advisement.” She giggles at my ridiculous comeback before I kiss her soundly on the mouth and then climb in behind her. The medium jet pressure and hot water is a welcome sensation. The soft body in my arms an even better one.

  She settles between my legs, leans back against my chest. Tilting her head up and back, she smiles at me. This. This right here is everything.

  In a matter of weeks, Alejandra has become the woman I can’t live without. Most people would tell you love at first sight is bullshit, but I’m here to tell you it happens, because I knew she was someone special nine months ago when I saw her across a crowded bar. And I knew when I saw her again in my hotel lobby that I’d been given a second chance, and I’d do whatever it took to make her mine.

  The boom of fireworks draws her attention to the windows. We’ve got a great view of the annual display taking place over the Pacific. A multitude of color exploding for our enjoyment.

  I cradle her closer, kiss the curve of her neck. Her long, dark hair is piled on top of her head so I’ve got easy access to the delicate skin there.

  She drifts her hand over the surface of the water, displacing bubbles. “I could stay like this for the rest of the night.”

  “We’ll soak as long as you want, but you may want to take the pruning factor into consideration.”

  “I don’t care. I can count the number of baths I’ve taken on both hands, and this is by far the best one.” She softens even further, completely melting against my body, her bottom no doubt feeling the continued effect she has on a certain part of my anatomy. A string of fireworks decorate the sky, one clap after another reverberating against the window. “And it’s not because of the fireworks show.”

  “Good to know.” I slide a hand across her collarbone, over her breasts, circling one nipple then the other with the tip of my finger.

  “I’m not a big fan of fireworks.”

  “You’re not?” I ask surprised. “I thought everyone liked them.”

  She gives a tiny shake of her head. “When I was eight, my brother and some of the other boys in the neighborhood got their hands on some illegal fireworks. Gabby made me sneak out of the house with her to see what Diego was up to. He was right outside in the street so we hid behind a tree to watch them. I was worried about my brother. He was only thirteen, but some of his friends were older. One of them burned his hand when the firework went off before he let it go. I ran into the house crying and told my grandparents.”

  “Was he okay?”

  “Yes, but my brother was furious with me. He called me a tattletale and didn’t talk to me for a week. That’s how long he was grounded for.”

  I continue to touch her with light caresses, over her breasts, across her stomach, between her thighs. “When I was eight my brothers had the bright idea to carry our bike ramp into the backyard and put it at the deep end of the swimming pool. Then they grabbed their skateboards to jump off the ramp into the pool.”

  “If I didn’t know both your brothers were alive and well, I’d ask you to stop telling me this story.”

  “With some of the shit the three of us pulled, it’s a miracle we never got seriously hurt. Like you, I tended to worry, and when Ethan and Finn told me I was too little to skateboard off the ramp and flip into the pool, I marched into the house and told my mom. She was already aware, and on her way outside since she was watching us through the kitchen window, but my brothers still gave me shit about it and said it was my fault Mom put a stop to it. Even though she sat on the ramp so it wouldn’t slide and they could each launch off it into the deep end one time.”

  “No way. Your mom seriously did that?”

  “She did. She’s pretty remarkable.”

  “Did you get to jump?”

  “Yep. It was awesome.”

  She carefully turns her whole body, braces her arms on my thighs, and kisses me, openmouthed, hot. Significant. I’m thinking, yeah baby, but then she turns back around like that was not the start of something insanely enjoyable.

  “What was that for?” I ask, clearly misreading her intentions.

  “I had an urge.” She takes my hand and places it back on her stomach, presumably so I can continue my delicate mapping of her body under the water.

  I laugh. “Feel free to act on your urges anytime.”

  “I will.”

  “I think a little quid pro quo is in order here.” This time when I slip my hand between her thighs, I keep it there. “I have the urge to make you come,” I whisper in her ear.

  She answers by allowing her knees to fall open as wide as they’ll go within the confines of the bathtub. As a rainbow of lights flash in the sky outside, I stroke her center with one hand and play with her boobs with the other. She lifts her hips, arches her back. Soft moans fall from her lips; her breathing speeds up. I slip two fingers inside her, find that magic spot, and slowly bring her to release.

  I love having her fall apart in my arms. Once she’s still, she hugs both my arms to her chest.

  I’m content to hold her just like this for the rest of the night. As long as the jets are running, the water will stay warm. Several minutes pass, the fireworks stop. Eventually she lifts away from me and blows out all the candles but one.

  We climb out of the tub and dry off. She leads me to the bed, pushes me down. My cock bobs between us, leading her to smile at it. I’m very glad she likes what she sees. I’m very, very glad she reaches into the nightstand for a condom.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” she says, stopping our progression.

  “Is it a matter of life or death?”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me later. I need you to ride me, Al, like I’m a wild-fucking bronco.”

  Seconds later she mounts me and it feels like my first rodeo.

  Alejandra

  “Yoo-hoo. Alejandra?”

  I track the hand waving in front of my face. “Sorry. What did you say?” I pause the daydreams about Drew. About his slow hands all over my body, making my legs quiver, my breasts tingle, my stomach tighten. Last night in the bathtub was the sweetest, sexiest time of my life. Afterward in bed, it was red-hot. Exciting and so addictive. There was only one tiny snag. I’d realized while soaking in the tub waiting for Drew, that I’d told him Matthew was coming home, but I hadn’t told him that Matthew and I had a “date” to meet. As soon as I registered the oversight, I was racked with guilt again. I hadn’t meant to keep it from him, and I wanted to get it off my chest, but then Drew asked if it was a matter of life or death and then, well, other things took over my brain.

  “We said we want to get on camera, so stand up and wave your arms, would you? You’re much taller and prettier than we are.”

  “Oh. Okay,” I say getting to my feet and waving in the direction of the cameraman. Do not zone out on Mrs. K. and Gloria again.

  We’re sitting midfield for the Galaxy game. It’s a warm day, but there’s a nice breeze and puffy white clouds in the sky that occasionally block the sun. I don’t follow soccer, but I love being at sporting events. Sports fans are the best, with their T-shirts, hats, jerseys, chants, smiling faces, and fun signs.

  My two sidekicks have a piece of poster board that’s cut into a frame so they can hold it in front of their faces. Around the edge of the poster board they’ve written, PLEASE PUT US ON TV. It’s adorable and I hope they get their wish.

  Across the aisle, I notice a boy holding a sign that says, IF THE GALAXY WIN MY DAD’S BUYING ME A PUPPY. There’s a drawing of a dog and an arrow pointing to, I’m guessing, the boy’s dad.

  I look at Mrs. K. and Gloria. I look back at the boy. I look up a few rows at another fan holding a sign, and an idea formulates. There are thousands of people here and maybe some of them can afford to help me out. I haven’t come up with any other plan to raise money quickly, so I reach for my tote bag and pull out the large noteb
ook inside. I’m glad I didn’t have time to switch to my smaller purse this morning as I sit down and get to work writing my own sign: HELP SAVE THEIR SENIOR CENTER ~ VENMO @ALEJANDRA-CRUZ

  It’s a long shot, but at this point, what have we got to lose? This is definitely thinking outside the box. I draw an arrow on the bottom of the paper, pointing to my wonderful seniors, and hope the next time there’s a break in the game, we can get the cameraman’s attention.

  “What’s going on?” Gloria asks.

  “Is the center in trouble?” Mrs. K. asks.

  Crap. I forgot they didn’t know yet. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we’re in jeopardy of closing at the end of the month.”

  They lend a sympathetic ear as I share with them what’s going on and how upset I am about it. I also tell them how much they mean to me. “So, maybe a plea for aid will help. You two are the perfect poster seniors—literally—right now.”

  “It’s on,” Mrs. K. announces with authority.

  “If I have to fake a heart attack to get attention, I will,” Gloria says.

  “Oh no, please don’t do that,” I say.

  “Choking. You could fake choking,” Mrs. K. suggests. “That’s less offensive.”

  “No one is faking anything,” I assert. “I’ll hold up my little sign, you two will hold up your poster and smile, and if I have to, I’ll flash the camera guy or something.” I won’t really. Or, maybe I will. I’m learning I’m capable of anything when I set my mind to it. I’m also wearing my cute yellow bra.

  “We’re a team,” Mrs. K. says. “If one flashes, we all flash.”

  “Oh, I haven’t flashed in ages,” Gloria volunteers. At my stunned expression she adds, “Mardi Gras.”

  This is one of the many reasons why the senior center has to stay open. I need to hear more stories from these ladies. “Let’s agree to skip the flashing. We don’t want security escorting us out of here.”

  “I don’t know,” Mrs. K. says. “It’s one way to get attention.”

  “I have faith we’ll get it done without risking our clean records.”