Hitched: A Stepbrother Honeymoon Romance

by Michaela Scott

  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.

  So which one is Jason doing? It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I can just ask, although Kayla might dish if I phrased my question the right way. Still, according to this guide, Royal Shores owns the beach for a few miles in each direction, and a network of hiking trails that stretch towards the mainland. That’s a lot of ground to cover.

  I look at a map of the grounds and furrow my brow. Hmm…if I were a celebrity looking for a discrete place to take a secret lover first thing in the morning…

  Well, probably not the beach. Too risky. Paparazzi might be able to slip past security with all that open space. And that’s a bummer, because that means no swimming. Unless…you go to the huge walled-in pool by the central courtyard. Then you could swim all you want with no fear of paparazzi.

  That seems like as good an idea as any, so I head back into my room and change into a swimsuit. Add a wedding ring and some big sunglasses to hide my face, and no one’s going to suspect me of being anything but a carefree honeymooner working on her tan.

  Once I’m satisfied with my look, I leave the room and make the long trek down to the pool. It’s not super busy; there are only about six or seven people here, none of them look super famous, and nobody’s actually in the pool. Still, the sun is warm and inviting, and I decide to hang out in a pool chair for a little while and see if anything interesting happens. Maybe more people will come out once it gets a little later in the morning.

  How am I going to do this anyway? Pretend to be looking at my phone while I secretly snap a picture? I try practicing it on a couple on the other side of the pool, lazily holding the phone against my side while I point the camera in their direction. They seem like pretty normal newlyweds: he’s tall, dark-haired and kind-looking, and she’s short, blonde, and trying to push his wet hair up into a mohawk. He laughs, grabs her around the waist, and pulls her down onto the pool chair with him. I try and keep them in the center of the frame, but I start to feel really awkward watching them be cute from the other side of the pool. It’s one thing to tell myself that I’m going to get a picture of a celebrity, and it’s another thing to actually be here and point the camera at people. Is it really worth violating someone else’s private moments for money? Doesn’t that make me just as bad as Nina, Anna, and all the people I’m trying to get away from? I frown, suddenly unsure if I even want to try and take Anna up on her offer.

  But I have to, don’t I? Isn’t that the whole reason I married Travis in the first place? Well, I don’t know, really. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly when it happened. I furrow my brow, look at the couple laughing on the other side of the pool, and wish that I could be half has happy as they are.

  “You look like the most obvious paparazzi I’ve ever seen.”

  Startled, I jump in my chair and look up at Travis, who’s standing over me wearing nothing but a dangerously thin bathing suit. Leave it to Travis to show up and make an awkward moment even worse. He’s always been good at that.

  “Travis, they’ll hear you!”

  He looks over at the couple and raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. I don’t think those two would notice if a fucking meteor landed in the pool. Are they famous or something? Why are you spying on them?”

  “I’m not spying on them! I’m…uh…practicing, so that if I get a chance to photograph Jason, I won’t look weird.”

  Travis shrugs. “Trust me, it gets pretty easy to tell when someone’s taking your picture. If you really want to get away with it, you should look like the last person anyone would ever suspect.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “Well, first of all, lose the sunglasses.” Travis pulls the sunglasses off my face and hooks them into the waistband of his bathing suit. “And then, just blend into the crowd. Don’t stand out.”

  “That’s what I was trying to do! That’s why I’m wearing this.” I gesture down at my bikini, and Travis’ eyes linger hungrily on my body. I want to tell him to take his eyes off me, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. After all, what newlywed would say that on her honeymoon? He’s supposed to be looking at me like that, and I’m supposed to want him to. Wait, that’s not what he meant by blending in, is he?

  Before I can react, Travis squirts some sunscreen into his hand and starts massaging it into my shoulders. I squeak and tense up at his touch, but Travis holds me against the chair, letting his hands travel down my sides and slowly coating my body with sunscreen.

  “There. You were the only single person out here and you had your phone out, and anyone who was paranoid would have instantly noticed that. Now, you’re just another honeymooner having fun with her new husband, and people will try not to look at us for too long, because they’re afraid they might see something inappropriate.”

  I gasp as Travis’ hands travel dangerously close to the top of my bikini bottom, rolling the fabric between his fingers as he rubs the lower part of my stomach. “Like this, for example. People are going to look away because they think something might happen any second.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. Part of me wants to kick Travis into the pool for being a pervert, and part of me is just paralyzed…and starting to react to what Travis is doing with his hands. Memories of that unfortunate little dream from last night start flooding back as Travis touches me…and before I know it I’m arching my back a little, pushing my hips gently up against his massive hands.

  Travis opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but when he sees the effect his touch is having on me, he just looks at me. We’ve shared a lot of weird eye contact ever since becoming step-related, but this is different. Travis’ hands push down against my body, thumbs tracing the top of my bikini bottom. He gives me a quizzical look, like he’s asking with his eyes if I actually like this, and even though I want to shout that of course I don’t and it’s dangerous and irresponsible and that the fact that we’re technically married and on a honeymoon doesn’t change the fact that nothing can happen between us…none of those words come out. It’s like I don’t even know how to say them.

  And the longer I go without saying them, the more possessive Travis’ hands get down on my hips. He’s holding them by the sides now, like he’s getting ready to pick me up and carry me somewhere without any other honeymooners around, somewhere where he can slide his hands all the way down into my bathing suit and feel between my legs…

  “Need some towels?”

  I practically jump out of my skin as Kayla appears beside us with an armful of fluffy white towels. Turning a humiliating shade of pink, my first response is to shout out that it’s not what it looks like, but luckily, before I do that, I remember that she thinks we’re married and that this is perfectly normal behavior for horny newlyweds.

  Somehow, Travis manages to stay cool as a cucumber, smoothly pulling his hands away from my bikini bottoms and rubbing sunscreen on my legs. Unfortunately, that’s not too much better, especially with the way he’s massaging my thighs.

  “Thanks, Kayla, we were just about to get in the pool.”

  “No problem! Are you happy with everything in the suite?”

  “It’s fucking perfect. I just hope we weren’t bothering the neighbors too much.”

  Kayla raises her eyebrows. “You probably didn’t. We have the thickest walls of any hotel on the island.”

 
; Travis smirks at me. “Good to know.”

  God, could he be any more intimate with the way he’s touching me? My nipples have been dangerously close to getting hard for the past five minutes, and it’s only getting worse as he caresses my thighs like they belong to him.

  Kayla breaks the tension. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves, but…I just want you to know that I won’t have done my job until I make sure that your honeymoon is as special as it can possibly be. And with that in mind, I have a present for you.”

  “Oh yeah? Is it something from one of those kinky-ass catalogs we found in the dresser?”

  I kick Travis in the chest, but Kayla just laughs. “No, nothing like that. But if you are interested in ordering from one of those, you should know that all of our…naughtier items are brand new when you order them and yours to keep.”

  Travis raises his eyebrows and looks at me. “You hear that, Laney? Maybe we should pick out one of those vibrators you were so excited about last night.”

  I shoot Travis a fake, cheery smile with a death glare in my eyes. His balls are going to regret that comment.

  “Maybe…but only if you’re good.”

  “Oh, I’ll be good.” Travis’ hands travel all the way up my thighs, and my eyes go wide as my lower body ignites with need. This is getting out of control.

  I look back over to Kayla. “Uh…so what’s the present?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Kayla reaches between her towels and pulls out a pair of tickets.

  “What are those?” I ask, concerned about where this is going.

  “These,” Kayla wiggles the tickets, “Are two tickets to the Royal Shores Couple’s Cruise. They’re very hard to get, because the Couple’s Cruise is by far the most luxurious, intimate, romantic experience at Royal Shores. You’re going to be spending a whole night together on a ship travelling around the island, with all the food you can eat, all the wine you can drink, and the best view of the island there is. If you think you’re in love now, just wait until you spend the night together on the Couple’s Cruise.”

  An overnight cruise? With Travis? That sounds like a recipe for disaster.

  I smile at Kayla. “Wow, that sounds incredible, thank you so much!”

  Kayla shrugs. “Like I said, they’re super hard to get, but I knew I had to do it for you two.”

  She sets the tickets down on top of the towels. “Anyway, I think I’ll let you get back to your pool fun, but let me know if there’s anything you need and I’ll make it happen.”

  I smile and nod at Kayla, and she heads back to the hotel. As soon as she’s out of sight, I aim a kick right between Travis’ legs. He must have known it was coming, though, because before I can reach him, he moves out of the way, trapping my foot between his hard thighs.

  “You’re such an asshole!” I hiss through my teeth, and in response, Travis runs his hands all the way up my thighs again, sending shivers through my flesh.

  “You know, I gotta hand it to you, sis, you’re doing a pretty good job of pretending this whole sunscreen thing is turning you on. You’re a better actress than Mom.”

  His eyes narrow. “Unless, of course…you’re not acting.”

  His hands move back to my hips, gripping them like he wants to pick me up, toss me over his shoulder, and drag me into a cave somewhere. A beach cave.

  And of course, my stupid body pushes back. “Nope, sorry. Just blending in. Like you said.”

  “Are you sure?” Travis asks, eying my squirming hips with a mixture of amusement and ravenous hunger.

  “Of course I’m sure,” I say, a little less convincingly than I’d like.

  “Oh. Okay. So you’re not soaking wet under that tiny little bikini, you’re just pretending.”

  “Yep.”

  “Gotcha. So if I put my hand down there and touched you…you wouldn’t be the slightest bit wet.”

  Travis’ hand lingers at my waist, dangerously close to plunging down into my bikini bottom and finding out what a big fat liar I am. I’m soaked.

  But that’s not important. “Travis, I thought we had an agreement. This is a professional trip, and we weren’t going to do anything inappropriate.”

  Travis looks into my eyes. “Laney, I’m pretty sure appropriate went out the fucking window the second we said ‘I do.’ We tried being friends. And what happened the second we tried to grab a couple of friendly drinks? We woke up half-naked and fucking hitched. Maybe it’s time to try something else.”

  I bite my lip and furrow my brow as the heat between my legs starts to throb, waiting for Travis to slide that hand down and feel how wet I am. And if I don’t say something soon, he might actually do it…

  I shake my head and sit up, pulling my hips away from Travis’ touch. “It’s just too dangerous. This is supposed to be a business trip, remember? And if you’ll excuse me, I’m actually going to try and get something done.”

  I hop out of the pool chair and head inside, but before I make it there, I feel Travis’ cut body brush against my back and his hand on my hip. “Alright, but you had to think about it, didn’t you? Just like you did on the couch. If I were back in Vegas, I’d bet a shitload of money that by the end of this trip, you’re going to change your mind.”

  I can still feel the heat raging between my legs, but I manage to keep walking anyway. “I’m headed to the bowling alley to look for Jason. Don’t wait up.”

  And just like that, I’m walking through the ground floor of the hotel, hoping that the cool air can do something about my overheated body. I round a corner, try to shake the memories of Travis’ touch out of my head, and head towards the bowling alley.

  It’s funny. Thanks to Travis, I’ve got all this sunscreen on my body and I’m not even going to need it.

  Chapter 12: Travis

  As soon as my front tire hits the ramp, I floor it, launching myself straight up into the open air. Then, as I reach the peak of the jump, I pull my legs up to the saddle until my ass is off the ground and I’m hugging the bike with my knees. From this position, I can do about a million easy tricks in my sleep, but instead, I let go of the handlebars, kick the back of the saddle, and let the bike flip backwards, controlling it with my knees until it turns all the way around and hits the ground.

  Nothing like a no-handed backflip to take my mind off of whatever the fuck that was by the pool this morning.

  I’m so in the zone from the jump that I don’t hear the applause until I ride right up to the guys on the corner of the track: Paul, the founder of the Coconut Classic and a couple of his friends. They’re freaking out, and one of them’s filming me with his phone. I smile, hitting the brakes so I come to a stop right in front of them.

  Paul laughs. “That was the craziest shit I’ve ever seen.”

  “What, you thought I forgot how to fucking ride?”

  Paul shrugs. “Dude, I thought you just partied with models all day ever since ever since you hit it big. I mean, shit, that’s what I’d be doing if I were you. Didn’t you have a thing with that one girl…uh…the really hot one with the fake nails who’s on all those reality shows…”

  Absolutely not. She was probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met. But I don’t blame Paul for thinking that. It was all over the gossip blogs. She was falling down drunk at some shitty party in downtown LA, I helped her up, she gave me a hug, and someone got a picture and it turned into “Travis Carter’s Newest Conquest.” And I know I like to talk dirty, but if you believed those fucking blogs, you’d think I was the biggest manwhore in Southern California.

  I shake my head at Paul. “Don’t believe everything you read, man.”

  “I guess not. Clearly, you’ve been practicing. And hey, thanks again for coming out here and doing our little tournament. If you bring a couple fans out, I might actually be able to move the shop somewhere closer to downtown.”

  “It’s no problem. I wanted to do something real.”

  Paul laughs, and I hop off the bike. It’s gettin
g pretty late, and I should probably get back to the hotel and make sure Laney’s not too lonely without me. Hey, maybe now that she’s had some time to think, she’ll have realized how bad she wants me and she’ll be waiting for me in the suite with nothing but a smile on.

  I mean, shit, a man can dream, right?

  ***

  This place is fucking hilarious. Tell the staff I’m going to need a vibrator delivered up to my room? No one bats an eye. But walk in the front door with a little dirt on me? All hell breaks loose. I thought the girl at the front desk was going to have a heart attack when she saw me walk in. I mean sure, I’m pretty fucking caked in dirt from riding, but it’s not like I left muddy footprints on the carpet or anything.

  Whatever. Laney’d better be awake, because I’m sweating like a motherfucker and need to use that shower coming off of her room, and she’d kill me if I walked in while she was sleeping.

  I open the suite door, actually a little disappointed that she’s not waiting for me and wearing as little as possible. Maybe she’s right about me thinking of this as a real honeymoon.

  Her door’s closed, but the light’s on, so hopefully that means she’s not asleep. I walk up to the door and I’m just about to knock when I hear something coming from the other side that stops me in my tracks.

  It’s quiet, muffled by these thick-ass walls, so I’m not sure if I’m imagining things or not. But just like that, a couple seconds later, it happens again, and this time, there’s no doubt in my mind what it is.

  It’s a moan. And not a quiet, innocent, PG-13 sigh, either. The shit I’m hearing is triple fucking X.

  Instantly, my cock gets ridiculously hard, straining against my jeans like it’s about to explode. She’s actually fucking touching herself, and from the sound of it, she’s probably hoping I’m going to walk through this door, peel those little fingers away from her hard little clit, and slide every last inch of myself inside her.

  And fuck, I really, really want to. But that wouldn’t be very professional, would it? That wouldn’t be very professional at all.