Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1)

by Colleen Masters

  “It was the home I shared with your mother,” he explained to me, when I asked if he wouldn’t rather a new place all his own. “I never want to leave.”

  Thinking of my mom brings a knot rising in my throat. Every step along the way in our wedding planning, I could feel her absence. I’ve decided to wear her white eyelet dress—the same one I wore to graduation—on my wedding day. How I wish she could have been alive to see me get married—especially to Jamison. And it isn’t just my own mother’s absence I’ve felt more acutely than ever in the lead-up to the wedding, it’s the absence of Jay’s parents, too. Loudon and Priscilla would have loved to throw us a perfect wedding, sparing no expense along the way.

  I smile sadly, thinking of how proud Loudon would have been to see me and Jay as an honest-to-god couple. He was obviously in favor of us being together—he made that perfectly clear in the most dramatic way possible. But even he seemed to think that our partnership would be more pragmatic than anything. No one could have predicted how deeply caring our relationship would eventually come to be, not even me and Jamison.

  “I’m really glad we decided to get married here,” I tell Jay, reaching for his hand.

  “It feels right, doesn’t it?” he nods, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

  “I mean, this is where it all began,” I reply, looking out across the King Estate.

  “Could you ever have guessed that this is where we’d end up?” Jay asks.

  “Not in a million fucking years,” I laugh, shooting him a grin, “I thought you were my own personal nemesis when we were little.”

  “Right back at you,” he laughs, giving my hand a tug and pulling me into his lap. “Not to mention that fact that you were just a quiet little book worm while I was the star of our town.”

  “Um, hello, you were a nerd too,” I remind him, throwing an arm over his shoulders, “Just a secret nerd, is all.”

  “Thanks for not giving away my secret,” he murmurs, bringing his lips to my throat.

  “Of course,” I reply, arching my back as he brushes his lips against my skin, “That way, I got to have your nerdy side all to myself…”

  “You get all the sides to yourself now,” he smiles, setting down his coffee and grabbing hold of my hips.

  “That’s right,” I grin, putting my cup down and straddling him on the chair, “And how I do love all those sides…”

  I slip my hands up under his tee shirt, running my fingertips along his rows of abs. Tugging his shirt up over his head, I admire his sculpted torso, his thickly muscled arms. Sometimes, I still have trouble believing that I get the privilege of beholding this gorgeous, perfect body of his. I bring my lips down to his chest, kissing across his firm pecs. I can feel him start to harden beneath me, and that stirring only eggs me on.

  “Want to have one last sinful fuck before we’re man and wife?” I murmur in his ear.

  “Just one?” he growls, “You don’t give me enough credit.”

  I laugh in surprise as he stands up, holding me up with ease. I wrap my legs around his waist and he takes hold of my firm ass. After a year of nearly daily fucking, our appetites for each other have only grown. And today is no exception.

  I bring my mouth to Jay’s as he carries me back into the bedroom, bearing me across the space as if I were weightless. I suppose I am only half his size, but his well-built athlete’s body certainly helps. It’s strange to think that we had entire other lives before we reunited last year. I missed out on his rise to NHL fame, he missed out on my time at Harvard and my rise through the ranks of King Enterprises. But I don’t mourn those years we spent apart. They made us who we are today. We were blessed to have time to find ourselves before we found each other again. Everyone should be so lucky.

  I gasp as Jay all but throws me down on the bed before me. He knows by now that I don’t mind a little rough play. In fact, I even enjoy getting a little dirty now that I have a partner I trust so fully. Pulling myself up onto my elbows, I let me knees fall wide open before him. My booty shorts and thin tank top cover just enough skin to drive him absolutely wild.

  He steps out of his own shorts and kneels before me on the bed, his perfect cock standing at attention for me. Lowering himself to me, he takes the waist of my shorts in his teeth and tugs them down over my ass. I hurry to tear off my tank top, tossing it across the room as he brings his body to mine. The weight of him on top of me is the definition of bliss.

  “Oh god yes,” I breathe, as flips me onto my stomach.

  “I know how much you like it from behind,” he murmurs in my ear.

  I moan as he brings his fingers to that aching place between my legs, feeling at once how wet I am for him. I grab hold of the pillow as he rubs my clit, sending my hurtling toward the heights of pleasure from the very first. We both let out low, satisfied groans as he drives into me, his fingers firmly on my clit as he thrusts into me from behind. I press my cheek to the bed, astounded by how deeply I can feel him, how well he’s come to knew my body. I press back against his every pounding stroke, taking him deeper and deep into my body. We push each other to the limit every time we give over to our desires. And this time is no exception.

  My breath catches as Jay turns me onto my back once again. I hook a knee over his shoulder, bracing myself as he into me, hard. He’s colliding with that delicious spot inside of me, and I reach down to touch myself as he fucks me. He loves watching me touch myself, and I swear I can feel him grow harder inside of me as I do now. I can feel myself teetering on the edge of bliss, hanging suspended in this moment with him.

  “Come, baby…” he growls, “Come for me.”

  I bite my lip, rubbing quick circles around my clit as he levels me with a mighty thrust of his hips. An intense sensation bursts through my body, sweeping through every cell as I let go. I can feel Jay come inside me, filling me up as he we give ourselves to this moment of bliss. We wrap our arms around each other, riding out the leveling feeling as it sweeps through us both. At last, we begin to come back down to earth, our breath evening out as we hold each other. In the silence of our room, I start to laugh softly to myself, hugging Jamison close.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks, pulling himself up onto his forearms.

  “It’s just…We get to do this for the rest of our lives!” I laugh, shoving my hands through my hair, “How did we get so lucky?”

  “We fought like hell to make it back to each other,” he says, bringing his forehead to mine, “Nothing lucky about it.”

  Jay rolls onto his back, holding me close as I curl up against his side.

  “I don’t know…” I whisper, resting my cheek against his chest, “I’m feeling pretty lucky to be spending the rest of my life with you.”

  “I’ll bust my ass to make sure you feel like that every day,” he says, turning my face to his, “That’s a promise.”

  “Are those gonna be your vows?” I tease, smiling up at him in the early morning sunlight.

  “You’ll find out tomorrow,” he grins, kissing my forehead.

  I close my eyes, committing this moment to memory. Easy laughter, incredible sex, and boundless respect—this is what our relationship is all about. And starting tomorrow, it’s what our marriage will be all about as well. This partnership of ours may have gotten off to an unconventional start, but I’d do it all over again to end up right where I am at this very moment. My life has been far from perfect, but who needs perfect when you can have something good, and true, and lasting? Not me, that’s for sure.

  I let Jay’s heartbeat lull me into a light, late-morning slumber. We’ve come a long way since that first night in gazebo together. But while I may have woken up alone that next morning, I know that’ll never be the case again. We’ve grown up, Jay and I. We’re finally ready to be there for each other. For everything the rest of our lives together might bring.

  And god knows, after what we’ve already been through, I know we’ll be able to handle whatever life has in store for us next. I t
hink I’d call that the silver lining to end them all.

  * * *

  THE END

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  STEPBROTHER BILLIONAIRE

  * * *

  by Colleen Masters

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  * * *

  “I thought you said this was going to be a small gathering,” I shout, raising my voice above the blaring music. I can feel the pounding bass line vibrating through my body as I hesitate at the edge of the gigantic house party.

  “Did I say that?” my best friend, Riley, grins back. “I meant to say that this was going to be an ‘epic rager unlike anything you’ve ever seen’.”

  I roll my eyes at her as we’re swallowed up by the teeming crowd of our classmates. I should have known better than to think that Riley would spend her Saturday night anywhere but at a legendary party. She and I have been best friends for all seventeen years we’ve been on the planet. But even so, our ideas of what makes a “good time” are starkly different. If I had any sense at all, I would never have let her drag me to this party. I’d much rather be curled up at home with my sketch pad and a cup of tea. But seeing that the damage is done, I suppose there’s nothing to do but try and have a good time.

  “Here you go ladies,” a burly junior boy says, sidling up to us with a red plastic cup in either hand. “First drink’s on me.”

  “Warm beer, now with extra roofies?” Riley says, cocking a perfect eyebrow at him.

  “We’re all set, Champ,” I tell the boy, producing a flask full of my dad’s very fine whiskey from my purse. It’s not like he’s using it much, these days. “Better luck next time.”

  “What a couple of buzz kills,” the kid grumbles, sulking away.

  “Great party so far Ri,” I laugh sarcastically, unscrewing the top of the flask.

  “Just remember, Abby—in less than a year, we’ll never have to deal with high school boys again,” she points out, accepting the flask as I pass it her way.

  “I can’t wait,” I say wistfully, “I know you’re not supposed to wish away your youth or whatever, but the sooner high school can be over with, the better.”

  “What? You’re not enjoying your glory days?” Riley asks with mock astonishment, gesturing toward our fellow partygoers.

  I look around at the party unfolding all around us. Some rich kid’s parents are out of town, and the entire school has descended on their McMansion to spend the night getting wasted, listening to someone’s crappy iPod playlist, and making questionable choices about who to sleep with. I nearly step on two people going at it right in the foyer, writhing all over each other in a drunken tizzy. With a wild yell, some kid tries to swing on the crystal chandelier, only to miss and fall flat on his face to onlookers’ uproarious laughter.

  “If these are our glory days,” I say to Riley, “We’re in serious trouble.”

  “Come on,” she laughs, slipping her fingers through mine, “I’m sure we can find a quieter corner somewhere. There must be, like, a hundred rooms in this place.”

  I let Riley tug me off through the party, ignoring the tipsy dudes who make lesbian jokes about us along the way. As gorgeous as my best friend is, with her silky black curls, tanned skin, and amazing curves, I’ve never been the least bit interested in “experimenting” with her. We’ve only ever loved each other as sisters. But the fact that I’ve never had a real boyfriend leads some people in my school to question whether I’m into guys at all. The short answer is, I’m plenty into guys. But finding one that’s worth the time of day at my Connecticut high school has proven to be impossible.

  Well...just about impossible, anyway.

  The party is just a forest of legs and torsos from my vantage point. At five foot three, I’m what you might call “vertically challenged”. Being petite is great for hide-and-seek, but not so great for feeling like anything close to an adult. Or being treated like one. But in a couple weeks’ time, the world will have no choice but to acknowledge my adulthood—at long last, I’ll finally be turning eighteen. The only question that remains is how quickly I can get out of town and be on my own once I’m officially a grown-up. As Riley and I climb the sweeping staircase and sidle into the master bedroom suite, we pass a passed out classmate who’s had his face graffitied with permanent marker penises.

  Yep. Adulthood can’t come soon enough.

  We poke our heads into the master bedroom, and I note with relief that it’s far quieter in this corner of the house. Maybe we can just hang out here and ride out this shit show in peace.

  “Uh-oh,” Riley mutters, glancing down at me with a wicked glint in her eye. “Look who’s here, Abby.”

  I peer around my best friend, scanning the dozen or so people already hanging out in the master bedroom. It only takes half a second for me to see who it is she’s talking about. My solar plexus rocks on its axis as a very familiar set of blue eyes turns my way from across the room.

  “Shit!” I squeak, ducking back around Riley’s taller form. “I didn’t know he was going to be here!”

  “The entire school is here, Abby,” Riley laughs, “You could have guessed.”

  “He’s supposed to be too cool for this sort of thing. Or whatever,” I say, rolling my hazel eyes. “Come on. I don’t think he saw me. Let’s just go—”

  “Hey, Sis!” a rough baritone calls from across the room. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  I groan as a volley of chuckles goes up around the room, and turn to see Emerson Sawyer, my blue-eyed nightmare, striding toward me. He’s easily six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a tapered torso, and effortlessly defined muscles. His mop of shaggy, chestnut brown hair is artfully tousled, a stray lock swooping across his forehead. He’s making jeans and a crimson tee shirt look as good as a three piece suit, and has a lit cigarette cradled in his full, firm lips.

  Naturally, my personal nightmare looks like an absolute dream come true.

  “Don’t call me that in public. Or ever,” I tell him, crossing my arms to hide the fact that my heart is slamming against my ribcage at his approach.

  “Why not, Sis?” he grins rakishly, taking a long drag of his smoke.

  “Because it’s creepy as hell,”
I reply, exasperated, tucking my long, ash blonde hair behind my ears. “And it’s not even true.”

  “Sure it is. For all intents and purposes,” he shrugs.

  I’ve known Emerson Sawyer for nearly four years, now. Or, rather, I’ve known of him for four years. Our Connecticut town has two elementary schools that feed into the same high school. Emerson and I attended separate grade schools, which were pretty starkly divided between the richer and poorer families in town, but ended up at the same high school together. I noticed him the very first day of freshman year, when he mouthed off to our sex ed teacher for taking a hard line in favor of abstinence (the most characteristically Emerson thing ever). He, on the other hand, had no idea I existed. Until this year, that is, when both of our lives—personal and social—got turned upside down.

  “What’s the matter? You ashamed to have a brother from the wrong side of the tracks?” Emerson presses, jostling me out of my thoughts.

  “Don’t put that on me,” I snap back, “As if you can stand having a prissy rich girl for a would-be-sister.”

  “You are kind of a bummer,” he says flatly, “But if it makes you feel any better, it’s your personality I hold against you, not your money.”

  I stare wordlessly at Emerson, knocked into sullen silence once again by his masterful putdown. By now, Emerson has figured out exactly how to get to me.

  About two months ago, I got the shock of my life when my widower father, Robert Rowan, announced that, after four years of refusing to date, he had just met the new love of his life. Her name was Deborah, he told me. They’d met at AA and “really hit it off”. He talked about her incessantly, stayed out all night like he was a teenager again, and generally weirded the hell out of me.

  After just two weeks, Dad told me that he was in love, and wanted to introduce this Deborah to me as soon as possible. I begrudgingly agreed to be around for dinner the following night to meet his mystery woman. We lost my mother Sandy to a terrible car accident just before I started high school, so the idea of a new woman in my father’s life was a little hard to swallow. Still, I did my best to put on a happy face and be as supportive as possible. I’ve never been very good at saying “no” or standing up to my dad, so it’s not like I had much of a choice.