Hitched: A Stepbrother Honeymoon Romance (7 page)

Kayla nods. “Call me if you need me!”

And with that, she heads back towards the stairs, and I yank Travis into our room, close the door, and smack him as hard as I can on the arm.

“Fuck, what was that for?”

“That was for grabbing my ass outside the airport and telling our guide all about how I’m constantly begging to get in bed with you.”

Travis shrugs. “Sis, you’ve been telling me all week how dangerous this is, and how we need to make sure the hotel doesn’t figure out that we’re stepsiblings. I was just making sure that the hotel leaves us alone because it thinks I’m going to spend the entire trip fucking your brains out.”

I roll my eyes. I mean, it probably worked. If I was Kayla, I’d probably avoid this room as much as possible. “Okay, fine. But that doesn’t mean we
are
.”

Travis is quiet for a moment, giving me a look that sends shivers up my spine. Then, he grins. “Right. We’re just going to
nice, professional
and
productive
until it’s time to go home.”

Only Travis Carter can make a sentence like that sound dirty as hell. I guess that’s why he gets the big endorsement deals.

Trying my best to ignore Travis and the prickly feeling on my skin from pretending to be his loving wife for 45 minutes, I put my suitcase in the corner and look around the suite. At first, it just looks like a really, really nice hotel suite. Soft carpets, a shiny, state-of-the-art kitchen, huge windows and a balcony…that kind of stuff. But the more I look, the more I notice the little details everywhere. The big mirrors everywhere…the huge marble bathtub in the corner of the living room, big enough for two…the way the covers are pulled back on the only bed in the suite…this whole place is designed with one thing in mind.

Travis cracks up behind me, and I turn around to see him standing over an open drawer
full
of condoms.

“Think this is going to be enough, Sis?”

I glare at Travis. “I mean, that’s like a daily supply for you. Maybe you should take those for your next trip to Vegas.”

Travis opens another drawer, and pulls out a glossy booklet that looks kind of like a room service menu. “Is that room service? We should order something, I’m pretty hungry.”

Travis raises his eyebrows at the booklet. “Well, uh…I guess you could call it room service. What are you hungry for?”

Travis tosses me the booklet, and I look down at it. On the cover, there’s a picture of a young, attractive couple, clearly paid supermodels, laying on a beach with the words “Make Tonight Special” written across their bodies. A little weird for a food menu, but maybe it’s also a wine list…

Oh. It’s not a food menu. My eyes get huge as I see a huge spread of naughty items, each with a code to order them from the front desk. My eyes dart back and forth between handcuffs, vibrators, paddles…

“Ew!” I close the booklet and chuck it at Travis’ feet. “Travis! Why did you even give me that?”

Travis shrugs. “You were looking at it for a pretty long time. I thought you were about to order something.”

“I was
not
looking at it for a long time! Is there an actual food menu in there or are they expecting us to eat each other’s tongues all trip?”

Eventually, we do find a food menu in the very back of the lowest drawer, which makes me wonder about the priorities of the last couple who stayed in here. Desperate to get my mind onto anything else, I ask Travis what he wants to eat, and we end up ordering a plate of crab cakes up to the suite.

And then, after a semi-awkward period of negotiation where I claim the bed and make Travis sleep on the couch in the living room, things are finally a little more normal. I mean, normal for me, which isn’t really normal at all. After all, I’m still on a fake honeymoon with my oversexed stepbrother, and we’re about to eat crab cakes off the floor of a luxury hotel. But at least he’s stopped hitting on me!

Our crab cakes come, courtesy of a very confused Kayla, and I pull out my laptop and sit on the big couch by the window. “So, do you actually need my help for this coconut thing?”

Travis shrugs, then brings the crab cakes over to the couch and sits next to me. “I mean, mostly just because it’s our alibi. I haven’t even officially entered it yet, but I’m pretty sure all I have to do is show up and the dudes who run it will make it happen for me.”

“Okay, so…” I’d opened a document to write down a checklist of duties, but it sounds like I don’t really need to do that.

“I’ll just tell everyone there that you’re my assistant and give them your email, and then if there’s anything that comes up, you’ll do it. I told you, it’s ridiculously low-key, it’s just some bike shop guys and local bikers. The most you’ll have to do is maybe set up a photo shoot for the event.”

So now my checklist has exactly one item: schedule photo shoot. But in my head, I’m making a different checklist.

Find Jason Hayward.

Make sure Kayla doesn’t suspect anything.

Make sure Travis doesn’t blow our cover.

And last, but most important of all:

Keep things professional with Travis. And whatever I do,
don’t
let my guard down and do something stupid like jumping into bed with him.

There’s just too much at stake.

Once I’m done with both checklists, I shut my laptop and start munching on a crab cake, while Travis goes into the kitchen and looks to see if there’s anything to drink. He comes back out with a bottle of wine that looks like it costs more than my whole month’s paycheck. I give him a look.

“Remember what happened last time we had alcohol?”

Travis laughs. “Not at all.”

I shake my head. “Alright, fine. One glass, and then I’m going to bed.”

“Fair enough. I’m still hung over from last time.” Travis uncorks the bottle and pours out a glass for each of us. Then, he lifts his glass and looks me in the eye.

“Here’s to the best fucking honeymoon ever.”

I roll my eyes and touch my glass to his.

Chapter 11: Laney

Why are we standing so close to the ocean? This is such a nice dress, and the tide is starting to come in. Shouldn’t we move a little closer to the crowd?

Well, the preacher’s already started talking, so it’s probably too late for that. I guess we’re doing this. Why is Travis looking at me like that? Like he wants to rip my wedding dress off with his teeth? Doesn’t he know that our family and friends are all watching?

This is so embarrassing. He’s not even hiding the fact that he’s staring at my chest. It’s like he can see right through your dress.

“Laney Brown, do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?”

I roll my eyes. “I do.”

“Travis Carter, do you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Travis just grins.

Hey, where did everybody go? The crowd’s gone, and so is the priest. It’s nighttime now, and the beach is abandoned. And what happened to my wedding dress? I’m totally naked…except for the big, fat diamond ring on my finger. That’s still there.

I’m not totally alone, though. Travis is still here. He isn’t dressed in his tux, though. He’s shirtless, and his thumbs are hooked through his tight, ripped up jeans…and he’s still devouring my body with his eyes. He shouldn’t be looking at me like that! He’s my stepbrother!

Although…I guess now he’s my husband, too.

My hands slowly rise to cover myself up, but Travis gently shakes his head no. He wants to look at my body. I put my hands back down to my sides, feeling myself starting to get hot and wet underneath my stepbrother’s gaze.

My eyes roll down his body, with its tribal flame tattoos and its perfect abs, and stop on his bulge, straining against his tight jeans like it’s desperate to escape. God, why does he have to flaunt his body like this? I wouldn’t look at him if he wasn’t such a show-off. I’d better stop staring at his cock, though, or he’s going to think I want it.

Slowly traveling up his body again, my eyes meet his. The way he looks at me sends a desperate throb down between my legs.

He smiles, like he knows what’s going on down there. “We’re married now, Laney. And you know what that means.”

He looks over at the sand beside him and nods, and then he looks back at me. What is he talking about? I definitely don’t know what that means…

Does he want me to lie down on the sand over there?

I guess I can do that…if he wants me to.

I step away from the ocean, look over at Travis, and then lie down in the cool sand. Travis smirks with approval, walks over to me, and then gets down on his knees. Wait a second, is he…

His huge hands wrap around my knees and he spreads them apart, pinning them into the sand as he looks between my legs with hunger in his eyes. Then, as soon as he sees how wet his touch is making me, he looks into my eyes, and in a flash, his huge, muscular body is on top of me, pressing me down into the sand as he claims my mouth. I moan long and loud against his tongue as his lips crush mine, and my heels dig into the sand as my hips buck up into the crotch of his jeans. I’m not thinking about anything anymore except how good his body feels on mine.

Travis pulls away, smiling when he sees the look on my face. Then, he puts his firm, warm mouth against my collarbone and kisses it hard, sending the fire between my legs into high gear. Slowly but surely, he starts kissing his way down my chest, stopping at my breasts to encompass one of my swollen nipples with his mouth, and then travelling all the way down between my legs. He holds his face down there for a long time, letting me feel his hot breath bathe me until I’m ready to scream. I pull my legs wider, pushing my hips forward until my sex is touching his lips. Then, his face pushes back, pressing my lower body into the beach as he lets his tongue push inside me. I bite my lip and run my fingers through his thick hair as his mouth begins to move up, and when he finds my clit, my whole body ignites and I moan my stepbrother’s name as fireworks explode across the water. I push my thighs against Travis’ perfect cheekbones, and he takes it as a cue to start rolling his tongue across my clit in slow, strong little circles. I push my palm against Travis’ head, and he licks faster and faster and faster until I feel like I’m seconds away from exploding into a million little pieces like the fireworks in the sky…

My eyes shoot open as I gasp awake, and I cover my mouth in horror as I realize what just happened. What the hell was that!? Did I seriously just have a ridiculously dirty sex dream about Travis?

I shudder as I replay the dream in my mind, cringing at how bad my dream self wanted him to pin me down onto the beach and ravage me. I really hope this is one of those dreams I won’t remember in the morning.

I roll over onto my side, looking out the window of my huge, king-sized bed, trying to ignore the wild, sex dream heat coursing through my body. Outside the window, there are fireworks going off over the water. I wonder if that’s why I had fireworks in my dream?

As a huge red burst fills up the sky, a terrible thought pops into my head. All those…ugh…sounds I was making when dream Travis was going down on me…was I making them out loud, too? Could Travis have heard me from the couch?

I shake my head at the thought. That’s the last thing I need, my douchebag stepbrother thinking that I’m lying in bed dreaming about fucking him. I mean, he probably already thinks that, but I’ve definitely never had a dream like
that
before.

Whatever. It’s probably just this place. Big romantic hotel, catalogue full of sex toys in the nightstand…and with the way he was pawing at me when we were around Kayla, it’d probably be weirder if I didn’t have a sex dream about him. That’s all it is. Just my weird subconscious reaction to this super weird situation.

I try to clear my mind and let the fireworks outside the window lull me back to sleep, trying not to think about the fact that I can still practically feel Travis’ mouth down between my legs…

***

A few hours later, I wake up to the warm Hawaiian sun on my face. I wrinkle my nose as I remember that unfortunate little dream, but luckily, the details are already starting to get fuzzy. Perfect. Hopefully by the time I get dressed, I won’t remember it at all.

Once I’m decent, I poke my head out into the living room to see if Travis is awake yet. Weird, he’s not even here. He’s probably realized he’s in a high-class tropical fuck palace full of celebrities and is manwhoring around somewhere downstairs.

Unfortunately, as much as I’d like to enjoy a nice, peaceful morning with no Travis, I need to get out of here, too. I have to find some celebrity misbehavior if I want to stop being a coffee slave when I get back to LA, and that means mingling with Royal Shores’ best and brightest, outside the room. I grab one of last night’s crab cakes from the kitchen counter, and pace around the room thoughtfully as I brainstorm the best way to go about this.

According to the guide to Royal Shores on our nightstand, there are a ridiculous amount of things to do here. Beach yoga, ballroom dances, something called “tantric fortune telling” in the basement…there are at least a hundred things listed in the guide.