Hitched: A Stepbrother Honeymoon Romance (11 page)

Brittany Cruz.

Wow, that was anticlimactic. I have no idea who that is.

I type “Brittany Cruz and Jason Hayward” into my phone, hoping that nothing comes up…but no. Apparently, Jason posted a picture of the two of them on social media with a big long message “outing” them as a couple.

“I can’t hide this amazing girl for one more second. For the past couple months, we travelled all over the world…”

You get the drill. The post was uploaded two hours ago, and it’s already gotten over a million views and three hundred thousand likes…all traffic that OMG could have had if I’d found Jason a couple days earlier. Anna’s
not
going to like that.

But you know what? It’s a cute message, and even though I think Jason Hayward is kind of ridiculous, they make a cute couple. I’m actually kind of glad they got to come out on their own terms.

Too bad it means I’m totally fucked once this honeymoon’s over.

“Waiting for that prettyboy to come and sweep you off your feet?”

Travis smirks down at me.

“Well, I was…but apparently it wasn’t meant to be.” I hand him my phone.

“Who the hell is Brittany Cruz?”

“The love of his life, apparently. They checked out a couple hours ago because they couldn’t keep their love a secret any longer.” I make a dramatic hand gesture. “Good for them, but I’m pretty sure Anna’s going to send me down to the coffee mines permanently once I get back.”

“You don’t sound that pissed about it.”

I shrug. “Well, now that I’m part of the biggest celebrity scandal of the year, maybe I have a little more sympathy for them.”

I catch a guy looking at us from his table, and hide my face with a long sip of wine. “By the way, your fans have been staring at me ever since I came back from the bar. What did you tell them about me?”

“They’re not my fans. Even my fans don’t recognize me when I get dressed up. I guess they just assume I don’t own anything nicer than t-shirts and ripped up jeans. I just told them that my name is Greg Smith, and that I work on Wall Street, and I’m here on a honeymoon with my lovely wife Natasha.”

“Then why are they staring at me?”

Travis grins. “Probably because I told them what a freak you are in bed.”

“Travis!” I kick him in the shin.

“Well, hey, I had to make up something to talk about, and I was probably a little distracted thinking about you fucking moaning in your room yesterday.”

“I was…that was…” I hate how high my voice sounds coming out of my mouth.

“That was just the fucking beginning, sis, and I think we both know it.”

Travis’ eyes look straight down my dress, and I bite my lip.

“Sit down,” I point to Brittany’s empty seat. “Before people figure out you’re not ‘Greg Smith.’”

Travis laughs and sits down across from me, calling over a waiter. “Hey, could we sit here for dinner? These guys are no-shows and we want the view.”

The waiter shrugs. “Fine with me.”

Travis smiles. “Great, and can you bring me some of that wine?”

As the waiter leaves, Travis looks over at me. “There. Now we don’t have to worry about our nametags.”

I nod. “Smooth move.”

Suddenly, to our left, a bolt of red streaks up into the sky and explodes, illuminating the whole boat and reflecting off the water. It’s the fireworks again.

“I wonder who’s doing that.”

The waiter, back with Travis’ wine, sets the glass down on the table and laughs. “It’s not us. There’s this old guy named Joe who lives right on the edge of our property, and he sets off fireworks almost every night. We talked to him about it, and he says he dedicates them to all the new couples starting their lives together. So we just let him do it. The guests like it, and we save money on fireworks.”

I watch the firecrackers burst, remembering how they looked in my dream.

“Anyway, just so you know, dinner’s going to be ready in just a few minutes.”

And he’s right. A few minutes later, Kayla comes out with two plates of mahi mahi and tells us to dig in.

Dinner with Travis is a ridiculous combination of really nice and totally bizarre. The fish is delicious, the fireworks are gorgeous, and the wine gets refilled every time we finish a glass, but I can’t tell if we’re Travis and Laney or Greg and Natasha or friends or step-siblings or horny newlyweds. It’s all kind of a blur at this point.

“Where were you while I was in the bar, anyway? It was like you just disappeared.”

Travis grins. “I thought I’d head below deck and check out our room. See where we’ll be spending the night.”

Oh. Right. I was so focused on finding Jason that I almost forgot this was an
overnight
cruise. Which means me and Travis are going to be
sleeping together
…in one sense of the word or another.

“So how is it?” I ask, trying to look nonchalant as I fork a bite of mahi mahi into my mouth.

“It’s pretty nice for a room on a ship. The bed’s pretty small, but that shouldn’t be a problem for
us
.”

I look down at the plate and cut my fish into tiny little pieces. The thought of climbing into bed with Travis after what happened back in the room is starting to make me wet.

But that doesn’t change anything, does it?

Well, I know what Natasha would do. She’s a total freak.

As the night goes on, the moon falls closer to the horizon, countless bottles of wine get poured into glasses, and the vibe of the cruise changes from a series of dates into a giant party. While the other honeymooners dance, laugh, and flirt in the middle of the deck, Travis and I stay at our table, talking about the Coconut Classic, our parents, and what I’m going to do now that I missed the scoop. Eventually, though, we realize we’re the only couple still sitting at the dinner table, and unless we join the party, we’re going to stand out like a sore thumb.

So with one last glass of wine and a couple of deep breaths, Greg and Natasha Smith are officially ready to mingle.

For the next couple of hours, I talk to couple after couple, trying to look as interested in their stories as possible so they don’t ask too much about mine. After about thirty minutes, I decide that Natasha runs a non-profit organization that teaches creative writing skills to inner city kids. Unfortunately, Travis keeps throwing off my story by coming in and making it seem like all we do is have mind-blowing, panties-in-the-bathtub sex all day. And I have to smile and nod along while he inevitably steers the conversation to sex and tells rich newlywed after rich newlywed how much I love it when he goes down on me.

But I’m onto Travis. He’s been doing this ever since we landed in Hawaii: putting his hands all over me in public and making it seem like we’re five seconds away from jumping each others’ bones. He says it’s to help us blend in, but I know he’s mostly doing it to make me squirm. So instead of blushing and stammering and falling right into his trap, I flirt back. When he talks dirty, I talk dirty. When he puts his hand around my side, dangerously close to my butt, I slide it a little bit further down. And I make sure to “accidentally” brush my chest up against him as often as possible. Hey, he started it. And now I’m going to make sure he goes to bed with the biggest case of blue balls this side of Honolulu.

And it’s working, too. With every little teasing move I pull on him, I feel his breathing getting harder beneath his suit. As the part goes on, his voice gets deeper. Harder. More like a growl. And out of the corner of my eye, I keep getting glimpses of what looks like a massive bulge, straining against the fabric of his pants. After talking with one particularly horny couple, he takes me by the elbow and leads me away from the party.

“Okay, somebody’s really fucking horny,” he says, gesturing down at my trembling body, “But who is it? Natasha? Or Laney?”

Good question.

I plant my feet into the ground so that my hips can’t squirm the way they want to, and smile at Travis. “Natasha and Laney didn’t appreciate how vulgar you were being around the guests, so we teamed up to make sure that you’re going to have a very long night of blue balls ahead of you.”

The look on Travis’ face is priceless, and I can’t help but laugh when he realizes what I’ve been doing.

But then Travis’ hand clutches my side, and he pulls me into his body as he whispers into my ear. “You think it’s funny, huh? Well, let’s see how funny you think it is when I bend you over, pull that dress up over your curvy ass, and consummate our fucking marriage.”

Well,
now
my hips are squirming. With those last couple of words, the heat between my legs just went from tropical summer day to three-state wildfire. And at this distance, there’s no hiding that from Travis. I want to pull away, to do some kind of damage control before we go even further over the line, but before I can think of anything, I hear a voice from behind us.

“Look!”

I spin around guiltily, my face a shade of red usually reserved for Hawaiian sunsets.

It’s a couple we were talking to about fifteen minutes ago. Christine and Max. She’s a yoga instructor, he’s an architect, and they’re both hammered.

She holds up Jason’s name placard. “Jason Hayward! You were right, he was supposed to be here. That
sucks
!”

I nod. “Yeah, but hey, at least I don’t have to worry about bothering him on his vacation.”

Travis and I casually take a couple steps away from each other. We still want to tear each other’s clothes off, but I’m pretty sure these two don’t really care.

Christina shakes her head. “They say this place is full of celebrities, but I haven’t really seen any.”

I smile weakly. “Yeah, neither have we.”

Max looks down at the table next to us. “Hey, look at this.”

He picks up a name card and shows it to Christina. “Isn’t this that guy you used to have a crush on? Travis Carter?”

Uh oh.

I grab Travis’ name card and frown. “It’s probably a different guy.”

Max smiles. “Christine used to think he was the sexiest guy on the planet.”

I look at Travis, mentally urging him not to do anything reckless. But it’s no use. He grins and squeezes my side. “Natasha still does.”

Christine looks at me. “He’s so hot, isn’t he?”

I really don’t like where this conversation is going. “Oh, yeah, totally. Super sexy.”

Max squints at Travis. “You know, you kind of look like him.”

Travis nods. “I get that a lot. Sometimes I even let Natasha call me Travis in bed.”

Okay, we’ve got to get out of here before one of these two recognizes Travis and turns this cruise into a meet and greet.

“Um, Greg, honey, can I talk to you for a second?”

I grab Travis by the elbow and lead him away from a very confused Max and Christine. Hopefully, they’re drunk enough that they won’t think too hard about what just happened.

Still, I’m starting to get a little paranoid. If those two noticed that name card, they might not be the only ones. I look around the ship, suddenly nervous that someone’s going to recognize Travis. And that can’t happen. Before anyone else gets the chance to look our way, I pull him below deck.

“Do you
want
us to get caught?”

Travis laughs. “I do shit like that all the time and no one ever recognizes me. I’m basically invisible in a suit.”

I roll my eyes and pull Travis further down the stairs and into the lower deck of the ship. “Whatever. Let’s just get out of here.”

I definitely wouldn’t call Travis “invisible in a suit.” He’s easily the biggest guy on the cruise, and he’s been getting looks from horny newlyweds all night. And if Christine starts showing that name card around, one of them might put two and two together…

Not good. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that we’ll be recognized the second we step back out on that deck.

And that means there’s only one truly safe place we can go. It’s the place I’ve been trying not to think about all night. Our bedroom.

I guide Travis around the corner and into the overnight wing of the lower deck, a long hallway lined with doors to all the bedrooms. I scan the rooms as we pass, looking for the number that matches the one on our ticket. Not us, not us, not us…we must be all the way at the end.

And would it kill them to soundproof the walls down here? Most of the guests are still upstairs, but judging by some of the noises coming from the other couples’ rooms, a few of them snuck away from the party early to get it on. Because walking my stepbrother into a
newlywed suite
apparently isn’t awkward enough…so I guess we also have to listen to everyone around us getting down and dirty while we do it.

Whatever. It’s not like
we’re
going to be making any inappropriate noises, no matter what Travis says about bending me over, pulling up my dress, and consummating our marriage. I’m going to get over whatever the hell is happening between my legs, he’s going to have to deal with a serious case of blue balls, and if he tries anything dirty, his ass is going to be sleeping on the floor.