Hale on Earth (Arrangement Series Book 2)

by Francesca Penn

  “We are?” I question, not sure where this is going.

  “Yes.” His smile is sweet and lacks an agenda. I don’t trust it.

  I like this version of him. Calm and casual. His near-black hair falls in his face a little without product. Oran’s gray henley shirt enhances his eye color, giving me a glimpse of the little specks of color that aren’t always visible in his grouchy moments. Better, I have access to the hints of this chest hair teasing me through the open buttons. He hums when I tease that area.

  “What’s with movie night?”

  “Not movie night, Trophy.” He plants soft kisses on my nose and the corners of my mouth. “We have to find our show.”

  Excitement I’d never thought I’d feel at such a simple statement hums through my body, manifesting into a smile that hurts my cheeks.

  “You want to have a show, you closet softie?” I rib him as I enjoy the richness of his laugh.

  “Shut up, Trophy. I just don’t want you embarrassing me when we go on this trip. I have a rep to protect. Don’t get too comfortable and pick some girly frou-frou shit. I’ll change my mind.”

  I follow him to the couch, much too giddy about our entwined fingers as he leads me into the living room. We sink into the couch and I’m surprised again when he wraps his arm around my shoulder and tucks me into his side. I inhale deeply, loving his scent.

  “Stop sniffing me you freak and pick a damn show.”

  I poke his side and mumble my thoughts of his jackassness.

  “Ooh, look! New episodes of Outlander.”

  “Out what?”

  “Outlander, it’s based on a book about a woman who served as a British army nurse and when she went to Scotland with her husband on their Honeymoon, she was sent back in time…”

  “Paaasss!” He jumps up to grab the pizza when our doorbell chimes.

  I wait while he gathers napkins and beverages, then pick up where we left off when he returns.

  “Humor me, watch the first episode.” I flip open the box and stare at the toppings for a moment.

  “What’s wrong?” Oran studies me as he grabs a slice.

  “Pineapple pepperoni.”

  “It’s what you like, right?”

  “It’s my favorite.”

  Oran stops chomping to look at me. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Your favorite is supreme. I figured that’s what you ordered.”

  “First, damn, you were obsessed with me. Second, why are shocked that I ordered your favorite instead? Why would I not get what you like?”

  “I’m shocked you know my favorite. We’ve never had pizza together. How do you know?”

  “You’re being nosy again. Mind your business. One episode.”

  He changes the subject and selects season one, episode one. I’m still touched by his efforts to be considerate. I’m stuck smiling while staring at his profile as the episode starts.

  “I hope you didn’t stare at me with a goofy smile when you were younger. No, I’m glad I didn’t see it. I would have laughed at you for sure.”

  “Shut up,” I giggle and bite into the best pizza on the island because not only did he get my favorite toppings, he ordered it from my favorite place. “You are a softie, Oran,” I tease with a peck to his cheek.

  He pauses the show and stares at me for a beat while he plucks the rest of the pineapples off his slice, then wipes the sauce off his lips. After he swallows, he responds to my observation.

  “Keep saying shit like that and you’ll be on the air mattress again.”

  Chapter 24

  Karessa

  Overall, this could be the best vacation ever. The Amalfi Coast is beautiful. I’ve felt peace from the moment we arrived yesterday. Oran and I are still coexisting peacefully, it’s a beautiful change of scenery, and Ainslee and Jagger are funny when they’re not fucking. Which is often and why this can’t be the best vacation ever. It’s not their fault they’re in love and are stinking cute with each other. Hell, that’s not even the problem. It’s hearing them go at it and pretending I don’t notice it while being snuggled next to the sexiest man in the world.

  Damn the smaller queen bed, his sexy yet still clothed body, and the soundtrack from the Hanlons. It’s not really them; it’s the reminder of what I’m not getting and can’t get for a few more months. If I were a man, I’d have permanent blue balls.

  It’s late, but I can’t sleep. Once Oran fell asleep, and the Hanlons passed out, I grabbed my robe and snuck out of the room. We have our own balcony with a beautiful view, but I’m also thirsty.

  I’m happy when I don’t run into any of Ainslee’s men because I don’t feel like navigating small talk. I retrieve a glass of wine from the kitchen then move outside to the lower balcony to catch a breeze and watch the inky waves. It’s peaceful, even with my hormonal turmoil.

  I want Oran, but I want him on my terms. It gets harder every day. The more time we spend with each other, the more of him I want sexually and emotionally. I’m happy to know he wants me and plans to stay with me, but I also need to erase the last drop of doubt that the prenup creates first.

  Warm hands grip my shoulders but I don’t panic because I instinctively know who it is. Oran pulls my back to his chest, wraps an arm around my waist, then rests his chin atop of my head.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” He asks as he plucks my wine from my hand to take a sip.

  “No. I’m supposed to share a bed with a big sexy man I can’t touch while his best friend fucks the hell out of his wife every chance he gets.”

  Oran’s low, sexy chuckle vibrates against my back as his hand unties my robe.

  “You can touch me, Trophy…” his hand slides under my silky camisole and his thumb teases my belly. “But you’d have to be willing to accept the consequences.”

  “I bet you’d like that,” I tease since it’ll solidify our prenup.

  “To make love to my wife on our honeymoon? I’m sure that’s every man’s goal.”

  I know who I am to him, but hearing him say it makes my heart flutter. Plus, Oran calling sex ‘making love’ makes my knees weak. I know he wants to get along, but that doesn’t mean he’s falling for me.

  “Uh, huh.” I have nothing.

  Oran’s returns the glass and his hands find my shoulder, kneading them, his thumbs pressing into the nape of my neck. My eyes close, and my head falls forwarding.

  “Feels good, Trophy?”

  “Yes.” I practically moan my answer because the massage is getting good.

  “You’re tense. How about instead of focusing on what we can’t do, we enjoy what we can do?”

  “Like what?”

  Oran turns me to face him. His unkempt hair makes him look approachable yet sexy, but the shadows from the soft light playing off his face gives me a mysterious glow. He takes the glass away, finishes the wine and places it on the nearby table.

  Grabbing my hands, he pulls me to his chest then whispers, “Dance with me.”

  “What?” The request makes me giggle although I’m willing to do anything that’ll allow me to touch him.

  “Let’s put all the dance lessons they forced the Founders kids to take to use.”

  “And the music?”

  Oran smirks as he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and selects a song.

  Otis Redding’s Try a Little Tenderness plays. I light up because it’s my favorite song.

  “I love this song!”

  Oran cups my cheek and pecks my lips.

  “I know.” Interweaving our fingers, he moves me until my swaying with him.

  “How do you know?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses me.

  I would argue but the full body press against his hard body is enough for me to “mind my business.”

  Besides, his hand is in my robe and squeezing my booty.

  “What did I tell you about these little ass shorts, Trophy?”

  The roughness of his whisper is highlighted with a tinge of arou
sal has me grinding against him as Otis croons into the night air.

  His sexual energy is so potent that I want it even when he’s not offering.

  “I don’t recall.”

  “Don’t play with me, Trophy.” His lips touch mine once more in a light, teasing kiss. His erection presses against my hip. “I’m trying to be nice and follow Otis’s advice. You’ll be fucked and not know how it happened.”

  “Then you’re not listening to him. I’m pretty sure he says not to tease.”

  Giving up on proper form, I run my hands up his chest, loving the way he feels under his t-shirt, until I lock my fingers in his hair. Oran’s cupid bow lips disappear when he flashes the smile that tells me he’s about to say something I won’t fully like.

  “Somewhat. I won’t leave. I can try to be tender.” He rubs his hand down my ass to grip me behind my knee and pulls it up to his hip as he dips me. “But I will tease you and squeeze you.”

  I try to take the kiss but he stands and spins me as the music picks up. Our lips meet when he spins me back into his arms. The teasing kisses are gone, leaving those deep panty wetting kisses.

  “Fuck, Karessa,” he moans as he lifts me. My legs wrap around his hips as I grind on his dick through his pajamas. My breath hitches when his hands squeeze my ass hard. I feel the stones from the ledge of the balcony when he sits me on it.

  The song switches to These Arms of Mine. I’ve never felt a song as much as I feel it now. Breaking the kiss, I stare into Oran’s eyes with all the longing seeping out of my pores.

  Oran grips my thighs and aligns our bodies, causing me to shudder.

  “Every time I think I have it under control, you fuck with my willpower.” He grabs my neck and licks my lips. “Your sweet body and eyes beg me to fuck you. I want you so damn bad that it fucks with my mind.” His forehead rests on mine as he squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he looks lustful yet pained as he takes a deep breath. “But refraining is for your benefit. Stay sane for both of us because I’ll take you to option A with no regrets.” He moves back and places me back on my feet. “Go to bed, Trophy.”

  Chapter 25

  Oran

  Being in paradise is trying. It’s such a beautiful place, but the sofa could be better. The moment I’m conscious, my neck and back scream at me for making a terrible decision. My dick’s been mad at me for a couple of months now, so I’m used to his protests. I couldn’t go back to our room. I couldn’t lie in bed with her with my hormones still begging to mate, give her babies, and beat the shit out of any man who smiles at her. This must be what a caged predator feels like. I’m itching to go for the kill, but I’m too busy considering her feelings.

  What the fuck?

  Exhaling, I accept the truth, I’m falling for her. I’m sure there are worse things than loving my wife, but I don’t have time to think about it when I hear the crunch of cereal. I jump slightly when my eyes connect with mossy green ones.

  When did that gigantic mutherfucker get there?

  He smirks at me like I’m entertaining.

  “That little dance last night was cute. It gave me the feels. You should’ve closed the deal. I almost booed, but it would’ve killed the moment,” he gives me a play-by-play of last night.

  “Shut up, Mikonos,” I grumble and rub my neck.

  “You wouldn’t have been sore from stuffing yourself on the couch just to moan her name in your sleep.” He points his spoon at me. “You’ve got it bad. The boys and I have a pool going…”

  “Fuck you.” Griping is my only avenue, I’m not the trained killer.

  “No. You fuck Karessa. I’d appreciate it if you waited three days, though.”

  With a wink, he leaves and only then do I realize he cut off his hair.

  Rising to my full height, I stretch out the kinks my chivalry has given me. This is going to be a long vacation.

  The moment I make it up the stairs, I catch the ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ soundtrack of the Hanlon’s newlywed fucking. The memory of Jagger pacing in the hospital frightened that he’d almost killed his wife with sex is so distant now it’s partially comical. I feel a mixture of happiness for him and the desire to punch him.

  Karessa’s head snaps up to stare at me the moment I enter. Closing the door. I lean on it and let the growing love I feel for her sink further into me.

  Her greenish eyes are wide with worry, but I’m unsure what I want to address first. The warmth that her adorableness with that silky wrap on her head makes me feel. My concern for her expression. Or the lust her camisole with the deep V displaying the outline of her pert breasts and hard nipples has burning inside of me.

  Since I can’t do anything about the latter, I focus on her.

  “What’s wrong, Karessa?”

  “I didn’t know where you were,” she admits as she chews on her bottom lip.

  “Did you try to find me?”

  “I called and sent you a text. I thought you were avoiding me.”

  She watches me as I retrieve my dead phone and plug it up on my side of the bed.

  “You’re my wife and we’re on our honeymoon; I wouldn’t avoid you. I fell asleep on the couch so you could get some rest.”

  The moment the words leave my mouth, a loud thud follows Ainslee yelling Jagger’s name.

  Surprisingly, one of the sources of our frustrations has us staring at each other for a beat until my lip twitches and sends us into a fit of laughter. I’m lying on my back at the foot of the bed when I’m done. Sobering, I roll my head to the left to look at Karessa. I watch her giggle as she falls to her side at the head of the bed.

  I realize how much I love seeing her happy.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” I confess then roll to my side to face her.

  We were studying each other from opposite ends, but my sudden confession has her cinnamon cheeks flushing as she studies the sheet far too intently.

  “That wasn’t an outburst or random thought. I mean it. I slept away from you to keep my word.” I squeeze her calf because it’s in my reach. “I framed our wedding photo because you rattled me that day. Then you left me. I was home by myself and pissed when the photos arrived. Seeing them left me breathless. If I avoid you, it’s not because of indifference.”

  “It’s not?” Her eyes are big and watery with unshed tears.

  “No. Never. I need to be more to you than your old crush.”

  “Like what?”

  I wiggle my left hand at her to draw attention to the ring. “First, I’m your husband. There’s no undoing that. You just need to believe it.”

  I have her full attention. She’s stopped fidgeting with her headscarf.

  “How do you know I don’t?” She challenges me.

  “The prenup.”

  “What does that have to do with believing in you?”

  “Everything.”

  “How?” I could say she doesn’t get it and be annoyed, but that’s the thing. Everyone thinks differently and applies their conjectures accordingly. It’s my job to supply my interpretation of her actions.

  “I understand why you want to wait, and I’m not fighting you on it. I just want to make sure you understand I wouldn’t fuck you over like that. I’d fuck you. Hard. You’d love every minute, but I wouldn’t betray your trust.”

  “Trust?”

  “Yes. I would like to think you wanting me is beyond the physical. I don’t want you giving in because your hormones are begging for it. I want to believe you’d change your mind because you’re taking a leap of faith with me. Betting on me to do the right thing and trusting I’m in this for you and not what I can get from you. I want you to trust and believe in me and not blinded by lust, Trophy.”

  Karessa seems frozen, like she’s stuck trying to digest all the thoughts I’ve spilled. I’ll give her time to process.

  “Go get ready for breakfast,” I tell her. “We have to see what the porn stars have planned for today.”

  Her lip twitches with a hint of a smile,
but she nods and slides off the bed then disappears into the bathroom.

  I take in a deep breath and release it slowly, then look at my watch. It’s only day two out of fourteen.

  * * *

  I was right, this is torture. Jagger is also right. Karessa’s wardrobe consists of clothes designed to show off her body. Does she even own a fucking one-piece? It feels like she’s moving in slow motion as she sheds the dress-like cover up she’d worn to get on the boat. Orange and pink zig-zags cover her body - barely. Strings everywhere. Two tugs. That’s all it would take to get her naked. Or I could use the two tugs to lose the skimpy bottoms then fuck her while I anchor her with that flimsy top. Scratch that. Karessa’s string bikini is small enough to just slide it aside. I could bite her nipples through the top as fuck her hard and slow.

  Note to self: Hide - No. Not good enough - burn the rest of her stuff then take her to buy Oran approved items. Satisfied, I focus on my best friend being in love with his former enemy. They’re never enemies, just two people misplacing their emotions. Now that they’re in the right place, both of them look happier than I’ve seen them in a long time.

  The wind tugs at our hair and the sunshine bounces off the cerulean water as I fight to ignore Karessa on the other side of the boat and grill Jagger about his love life while he stares at his wife like she’ll disappear if he takes his eyes off her. He confirms what I knew - he’s been in love.

  After Ainslee pouts her way into getting what she wants, Jagger attempts to redirect my attention to Karessa so he can have his dirty way with his wife. I’m not stupid. I know exactly what he’s doing, but the way she giggles with the silver fox, Italian is motivation enough to move.

  I make it just as he asks her about her hobbies. I grip her around the waist and spin her to me.

  “Right now, her most time consuming hobby is being my wife,” I announce to the captain while looking her in the eyes as much as I can while wearing shades. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the boat?” He smirks when I look at him but retreats to the cabin. I steal the kiss I’ve been craving since this morning. I can’t linger too long because it’ll become indecent.