Hitched: A Stepbrother Honeymoon Romance Read online

  But you know what the worst part is? Laney’s not even here to help take the edge off. I could barely even get her to sleep up here last night, and the second she woke up this morning, she looked out the window, saw all the reporters down on what used to be a private beach before Hawaii state law kicked in, and she pretty much bolted out the door. She thinks it’s too risky for us even to be in the same room together, especially a room with one bed, so she’s hiding out downstairs somewhere.

  And she might be right. After all, they’re still down there. I can see some of my mom’s people in the crowd now. They’re shooing away the honeymooners, fencing off part of the beach, and setting up for some kind of party. Some of them are pointing their telephoto lenses up the side of the hotel, trying to catch a glimpse of someone important in one of the windows. I step away before any of them pass over mine.

  So, yeah, it’s not like Laney has no reason to be paranoid, but I’m worried that it might be more than just paranoia. I’m worried that all these cameras might scare her into thinking that we need to be “just friends” again.

  Fuck. I need to focus, or I’m just going to sit up here going crazy. So, to try and get my mind off Laney, I get down in the middle of the room, close my eyes, and try to plan out what I’m going to do tomorrow at the Coconut Classic.

  I see the track in my mind’s eye. I imagine myself riding it like I did at practice yesterday, visualizing every ramp, tunnel, and gap as I hit them, and I start planning a trick routine for the main event. Something that’s going to make the audience get up out of their seats and scream. Something that no one’s ever seen before.

  And then, right when I’m in the middle of a standing quadruple backflip, there’s a knock on the door. This had better be Laney in a tiny little bikini.

  Nope. It’s Kayla, holding a big plate of grilled tuna steaks. “I brought lunch!”

  I look at the plate and furrow my brow. “I didn’t order food.”

  “I know,” Kayla says, lowering her voice and darting her eyes back and forth, “But this place is a nightmare right now crawling with paparazzi right now, so I figured you two might not want to leave the room for a little while.”

  “Well, shit, thanks.” As I take the plate from Kayla and set it down on the kitchen counter, Kayla slips into the room and closes the door behind her. I raise my eyebrows at her. “That bad, huh?”

  “It’s terrible,” Kayla rolls her eyes, “They booked every single empty room. I think they’re mad they all missed the Jason Hayward story, and now they’re overcompensating. I literally caught a paparazzi sneaking back into the kitchen to take pictures of me. They’re out of control.”

  Shit, I knew it was bad out there, but that sounds completely fucking insane. “Thanks for the heads up. Do they know this is my room?”

  Kayla shakes her head. “I don’t think so. If they did, they’d probably have someone camped outside the door 24/7. They’re probably expecting you to be in the VIP rooms…not in the couple’s section.”

  I figured this girl knew who I was, but that pretty much confirms it. And if she knows that…she probably knows that Laney and I aren’t real newlyweds. Kayla looks down awkwardly for a second, but then her eyes meet mine. “And I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

  I nod. “Sounds good.”

  “Enjoy your lunch…and stay away from the windows.”

  “Will fucking do.”

  Kayla walks over to the door, takes a deep breath, and steps out into the hall, leaving me alone again.

  A couple seconds later, I’m back on the floor and it’s back to the track, the tricks, and the screaming audience. But honestly, the more I think about it, the more I start to wonder if I should just fucking play it by ear. See what happens. It wouldn’t be the first time I dominated the competition without a plan.

  I’m about to just give up and grab a tuna steak off the counter when I hear the door open. I open my eyes, and instantly burst out laughing at the sight of Laney. Somehow, without coming by the room at all, Laney managed to change into a ridiculous outfit. Black pencil skirt, white button-up shirt, glasses, hair in a bun, even a fucking pencil behind her ear.

  Laney puts a finger to her lips as she slams the door shut. “Travis, quiet! They’re going to hear you!”

  I push myself off the floor and look Laney up and down. “I didn’t know you had a slutty secretary fantasy, sis. Are you here for your performance review?”

  Laney’s eyes get so wide that her glasses practically fall off her nose. “I do not have a slutty secretary fantasy.”

  Well, judging by the look on her face, I’m pretty sure she does now. “Are you sure about that?”

  Laney glares at me through her glasses. “I’m dressed like this because I’m supposed to be your assistant. This way, if anybody followed me up here, they’ll assume that we’re just having a nice, professional business meeting.”

  “It’s that fucking bad?”

  Laney nods. “It’s terrible. From what I can tell, there are about five celebrities who checked in for the Coconut Classic, and about fifty paparazzi trying to track them down. You haven’t been by the windows, have you?”

  I look towards the window and shake my head. “Not long enough for anyone to see me.”

  “Good. Because they’re watching the windows, patrolling the halls, and offering cash bonuses to random people in exchange for juicy gossip. I think some of them even know who I am. They definitely smell blood in the water, and I’m pretty sure we’re the blood.”

  I shrug. “Alright, so we keep a low profile until the Coconut Classic starts, hang on for both days, and then, when the event’s over, Royal Shores kicks their asses out.”

  “And then we leave,” Laney says, looking down at the floor.

  And then we leave. The end of the honeymoon. I haven’t even been thinking about it, but she’s right. After two days of staying away from each other, the Coconut Classic ends, and we get on a plane and go back to LA.

  Like none of this ever happened.

  But it did happen.

  And as far as I’m concerned, it’s still fucking happening, no matter how many assholes with cameras are walking around.

  I point over to the tuna steaks. “Kayla brought lunch. Are you hungry?”

  Laney nods. “Oh, God, yes, I’m starving.”

  We sit at the kitchen counter for a little while, devouring tuna steaks and talking about the honeymoon. Laney’s trying to put on a happy face, but I can see the fear in her eyes. She keeps looking over to the door like she’s afraid someone’s literally going to break it down, and every time I bring up sex, the honeymoon, or the future, she quickly changes the subject. It’s like those awkward conversations from two years ago all over again. Finally, as Laney cuts up her last bite of tuna, I get up and walk into the bedroom. A couple seconds later, I come out and slam the Make Tonight Special catalog down in front of her.

  “Well if they’re going to cut this short,” I say, “Let’s make sure we get our fucking money’s worth. Order whatever you want, and don’t be shy. We’ll put it in my bag on the plane ride back.”

  I can see the conflicting emotions swirling around behind Laney’s eyes. “Travis, we can’t keep doing this.”

  I raise my eyebrows at Laney, who presses her legs together. “Laney…” My voice is calm, but firm. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  Laney freezes, finally bringing her head into a slow nod. I smile and shake my head. “I think we’re going to have to do something about that.”

  I grab the catalog off the kitchen counter and walk into the bedroom. When Laney realizes what I’m about to do, she runs after me, but it’s too late: I’ve already picked up the phone.

  “Hey, room service? I’d like to make tonight special.”

  “Travis, no!” Laney lunges for the phone, but I pull away before she can reach it.

  “Yeah, my wife’s being very naughty right now, and I think I’m going to need a number…94.”


  I flip the catalog around and show Laney what I ordered: a long, thick riding crop, much bigger than the one we used in our room last night. She gasps when she sees it, but it isn’t all fear in her eyes. “The paparazzi are going to find out……”

  “No, no, that’s all for now. I’ll let you know if she keeps misbehaving. Fifteen minutes, huh? Perfect. Thanks.” I put the phone back on the receiver, and look at Laney, who’s lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

  “We’re doomed.”

  “Sis, we were doomed the second you walked in here dressed like the horniest fucking librarian in Hawaii. Actually, you know what?”

  I climb into bed with Laney, pressing my strength down into her. “We were doomed the second we met. Honeymoon or no honeymoon.”

  The feeling of Laney lying beneath me, stuffed into those ridiculous fucking business clothes, is starting to make my cock hard. I can feel Laney starting to react, too. Slowly but surely, her legs spread apart, letting me get closer and closer to her. But then, right when she’s ready to kiss me, the room starts to fill with a low thrumming noise. Somewhere up above us, a helicopter’s flying over.

  Laney tenses up and tries to pull away.

  “Really? You think that’s them?”

  “It could be,” Laney says.

  Shrugging, I pull the top blanket out from under Laney, walk over to the window, and black it out, plunging the room into darkness.

  And once I’m nice and sure that nobody’s going to be taking pictures of us in here, I walk up to the side of the bed. “Get up,” I say, my hands grabbing the sides of Laney’s hips. Laney pushes herself up off the bed, but as soon as she gets up onto her hands and knees, she stays there for a couple seconds too long.

  Honestly, I was just going to strip her clothes off and lay her back down on the bed, but we could do it this way, too. “Hey, if you say so.”

  Laney gasps as my hands travel down the sides of her legs, spreading her knees apart as I position myself behind her.

  “Wait, isn’t someone coming by to drop off that…thing you ordered? We should probably be ready for them, you know?”

  I smirk, then reach my hand up to Laney’s head, pulling the pencil out from behind her ear and taking off her glasses. “I guess you’d better come fast, then.”

  Then, in one smooth motion, I hook my fingers into the insides of Laney’s waistband and pull everything down to her thighs, revealing the hot, trembling curves that she was trying to hide under that nice, professional skirt. Laney lets out a moan, and before she can even breathe in again, I’m sheathed and inside her, sliding her all the way back onto my cock as I thrust my hips forward against her.

  I’d laugh at the way Laney was dressed if it wasn’t so fucking hot. Her skirt is bunched up around her knees, and her little black bun of hair is bouncing wildly up and down with every thrust. I hope she feels as dirty as she looks.

  But however dirty she feels, it’s not even close to enough. I want her to know exactly what’s going to happen the next time she comes around me and acts like we’re just friends. Just stepsiblings. And I’m going to keep doing it as often as I need to get the fucking message across. So first, I start unbuttoning her shirt. Not all the way, of course, because I don’t want her to forget what she chose to wear around me. No, I just take it down to right below her tits, just enough to expose her completely. I slide my hands into Laney’s now-open shirt, cupping her tits and pulling them up out of her bra, feeling them move in my hands as I fuck her.

  Then, I decide to do something about that fucking bun. Keeping one hand right on Laney’s nipple, I bring the other one up to caress her head, neck, and face, before finally grabbing that little bouncing bun and pulling it apart until Laney’s long, black hair is wild and free, moving down her shoulders like dark water. She may have walked in here professional and proper, but now she looks like the naughtiest secretary in the whole office, going absolutely wild for the cock that’s thrusting between her legs.

  Shit, I almost forgot. Somebody’s going to be knocking on the door soon, and Laney hasn’t come yet. I was so caught up in stripping off her clothes that I almost made it easy for her.

  But where’s the fun in that? They must be coming any minute now, so with a smirk, I slow way down, moving my cock in and out like a piston at half speed.

  Laney moans with need and backs further up onto me, desperate to finish herself off before we have company. I’m trying to tease her a little bit, but she’s not making it easy. With the way she’s pressed hard up against me, her perfect ass grinding into my abs, I feel myself starting to speed up again, and there’s not much I can fucking do about it. Meanwhile, Laney’s furiously bucking her hips up against me, trying to get me to speed up enough to send her over the edge just in the nick of time.

  And yeah, I speed up, but it isn’t until I bring my hand up to Laney’s hair, wrap my fingers around it, and gently pull back that she finally explodes, shouting out, shuddering, and taking me right over the edge with her.

  A few seconds later, Laney collapses down into the bed, half dressed and totally satisfied. I lie down with her, pulling her body into my arms. “Fuck the paparazzi, Laney. This isn’t their story. It’s ours.”

  Laney doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t pull away either. And before too long, there’s a knock at the door.

  “Stay right here,” I say, rolling out of bed and answering the door. It’s a guy wearing a Royal Shores uniform and holding a long, thin, cardboard box.

  “Delivery?”

  “Fuck yeah.” I take the cardboard box from the guy and set it down on the floor beside the door. “Hey, you know what?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could you come back in another half hour or so with some other shit from that catalog?”

  The employee smiles. “Sure, what do you want?”

  I shrug. “Surprise me.”

  “Alright, I’ll be back in half an hour,” he says, disappearing into the hall as I shut the door behind him.

  Hey, if this is the fucking end, I might as well go crazy, right?

  Somehow, whatever that guy brings up here in half an hour, I have a feeling that I’m not going to have much time to plan my tricks for tomorrow. Leaning against the door, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and visualize the track again.

  You know what, though? Fuck that. When the time comes, I’m just going to get up on my bike and do whatever the hell I want. Play it by ear. Surprise people.

  My eyes drift over to the dark bedroom, where Laney’s lying there, waiting for me to come back in.

  I’m going to surprise people, all right. I’m going to surprise everybody.

  Chapter 21: Laney

  Oh God, take me off the jumbotron. Come on…come on…cut away…act natural……

  Whew, it’s back to Travis. I was probably only on TV for ten seconds, but it definitely felt like ten minutes. Of course, no one watching is going to notice me specifically, not with Nina sitting right next to me in a full-on Academy Awards dress, but still, I’m sure the announcers identified us as “Travis’ family.”

  Out on the track, Travis launches himself off the ramp, does a backflip completely off his bike, then grabs the seat with his feet just in time to stick the landing. The crowd goes nuts, but next to me, Nina shakes her head. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t do modeling full-time. You can’t make any connections like this, and you can’t break your neck on a runway.”

  You know, I’m pretty sure you could break your neck on a runway, but I don’t feel like engaging Nina in conversation right now. On the other side of Nina, my Dad speaks up. “He wouldn’t be where he is today if he was just a pretty face, honey.” I wince, thinking about all the times that Travis has called me “honey” over the past week.

  Nina rolls her eyes. “Of course not. But that doesn’t mean that he should keep doing it. That’s what these sorts of things are for: building your brand, and then cashing out.”

  Travis makes a litt
le more sense whenever I have to listen to Nina talk for more than a couple of minutes: who wouldn’t rebel with a mom who’s so obsessed with keeping up appearances? I can practically imagine him buying a dirt bike just to piss her off as a messy-haired little thirteen-year-old. And look at him now: wild, reckless, and ridiculously talented, with a packed stadium watching his every move.

  Travis finishes his first round, and the whole crowd jumps to their feet, giving him a standing ovation. I join them, wincing as I stand up. Honestly, after Travis did to me last night, I’m surprised I can stand up. Nina even noticed that I was walking a little funny on the way to the stadium; I told her I’d been hitting the hotel gym while I was there, and she spent the whole car ride telling me all about how gyms are overrated and that if I really wanted to get in shape, I should do something called a “tomato cleanse.” But hey, at least she doesn’t suspect anything.

  If I understand the format right, Travis has one more round to play, and then the judges average their scores together. And so far, I haven’t seen anyone who can really top that first round. But the guy who’s on the track now is starting to make me a little nervous. He’s decked out in all black except for a Brazilian flag on the back of his jacket, and it seems like he’s doing pretty much the same routine as Travis. The crowd is eating it up, and when he does the same backflip move off the big ramp, the whole stadium goes absolutely crazy. Shouldn’t the judges dock him points for being a copycat? Or at least give Travis an advantage for doing everything first?

  With a suspiciously identical finish, the Brazilian biker rides off the track, and next guy rides on and starts doing his routine. He doesn’t look that good, so I lean back and start to mentally prepare myself for round two.

  But before I can get comfortable, I hear a voice coming from my left. “Nina!”

  I turn my head to follow the voice, and then immediately try not to wince as I see Anna walking down the aisle. I knew she was going to be here, but I was kind of hoping I could make it through the tournament without having to actually, you know, see her.