Riding the Wave

by Allyson Lindt

She found Spencer in the kitchen, two plates of breakfast on the table. He wore jeans but no shirt, and he looked incredible.

  “A girl could get used to being spoiled like this.” She kissed him.

  He held out her chair, and pushed it in as she sat. “As you should.” He poured her coffee, then sat across from her. “Did you get the job?”

  “Not yet. But it sounds promising. Are you going to work?”

  He gave a weak cough. “Called in sick. I have to keep you distracted between now and your interview, so you don’t get too nervous.”

  “Very thoughtful of you.”

  “I know.”

  She leaned across the table for another kiss. This was addictive in the best possible way, and she never wanted to give it up. Whatever happened next, she didn’t want to do it without Spencer. And she wouldn’t have to. It was better than a fairytale, because it was real, and it was theirs.

  EPILOGUE

  One year later

  Spencer headed straight to the table at the back of the sports bar, nodding at one of their favorite waiters on the way. Nervous anticipation thrummed through him, making his fingers twitch, and he forced the impulse back. He’d told Trina he had to work late. A tiny fib she’d forgive him for when she found out the truth.

  He hoped. No. He was pretty sure.

  He found her with her coworkers in their usual Friday night spot. This had become the ritual—everyone going for drinks almost every week since she got the job. He paused a few feet back, to watch.

  The way she laughed and joked with everyone was natural. None of the forced interaction he’d seen when she was in her last job. Those weeks from the install site—how poorly everything was handled—still nagged him. He wasn’t surprised Doug never made good on his threat to sue.

  Gavin nudged Trina, pointed at Spencer, and said something that didn’t carry through the noise in the room.

  Trina spun in her seat. Her smile grew, and she hopped to her feet, to skip the short distance to meet him. She hugged him. “About time.”

  “Missed you too.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m yours for the weekend. I promise.”

  “Good.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him back to the table.

  Each touch was a pleasant jolt, racing over his skin. The little things hadn’t gotten old—the pecks on the cheek, their fingers tangled together, it was all still incredible. He dropped into her seat and pulled her into his lap.

  “You look guilty.” Aaron studied him. “Definitely. You think?” He nudged Gavin.

  Gavin nodded. “I think.” He was Cynthia’s head programmer, and he, Aaron, and Cynthia were together.

  Spencer couldn’t imagine sharing Trina with anyone, but the three of them were happy, and that worked for him. “I’m not guilty,” Spencer said. No reason to spill the news yet. He just needed to keep it a secret a little longer.

  Trina glanced back at him and frowned. “I’m not seeing it.” She looked at Aaron. “You can’t add drama when there isn’t any.”

  Aaron shrugged. “Technically, I can. That’s my job. I stand by my claim, though.”

  The conversation shifted away from Trina and Spencer, and toward technological breakthroughs in data mining. It wasn’t enough to kill the way his body reacted to Tina’s shifting her weight in his lap, but it was dry enough a conversation he didn’t want to focus on anything besides the way she teased his erection.

  He kissed her earlobe. “I think I’ve got a broken switch,” he whispered.

  She frowned. “Is it a hardware issue? Do you need to go?”

  “It’s a hard thing, for sure. And yes, we should go.”

  She stood with him, and they said their goodbyes and headed to the parking lot. When they reached his truck, he pressed her against the passenger door and kissed her, letting go of any restraint he’d shown inside.

  She gasped in surprise and leaned into his body. She traced her fingertips along her bottom lip when he broke away. “I thought you said there was a broken switch.”

  “There is. My Off switch doesn’t work.” He nudged her with his hard length, to emphasize his point. “The only solution is for you to help me with it.”

  “You dragged us away for that.” Her smirk took the sting out of her words.

  “They’ll be here next week too. I want you to myself tonight.”

  Trina dropped her hand below his waist and traced the outline of cock.

  He pressed into the contact.

  “I guess I could maybe help with your hardware issue,” she said. “But not in the parking lot... again.”

  “That was fun, though. You have to admit.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t deny it for a second. It was even worth the cramped muscles.”

  It absolutely was. “But no. Not in the parking lot. We’re going for a drive.” Though, if she kept teasing him, they weren’t going to reach their destination without him pulling over and fucking her on the hood of the car.

  Somehow he managed the trip to the beach house without any unplanned stops. It took a lot of intertwining his fingers with hers, to keep either of them from teasing too much.

  They reached their destination, and he led her around the house, instead of inside. They spent almost every weekend up here, but as they walked toward the beach, he realized this was the first time they’d taken this path since New Year’s Eve a year ago.

  She squeezed his hand more tightly.

  He expected tonight to end very differently, though.

  They drew within visual range of his setup—a blanket spread on the sand, a cooler next to it.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Depending on how things go, either celebration or commiseration.”

  He pulled her to a stop, and spun her so he could look her in the eye. He’d considered and discarded a billion different speeches, before deciding he wanted to improv the moment. “When things went south with Mia, I knew I was done with relationships like that—the kind that led to marriage. And then you came along.”

  Trina bit her bottom lip.

  “And then you came along, and you saw it a lot sooner than I did, but in my defense, you literally weren’t old enough.” He kept the teasing in his voice, to cover the nervousness. Her tiny laugh helped, too.

  If he didn’t do this soon, he was going to ramble for several more minutes, and that would spoil what she was already figuring out. “Anyway. Down on one knee, right?” He knelt at her feet and kissed her fingertips. “I’m out of fancy words. I love you so much, and I can’t imagine waking up to a day when we’re not together. So... marry me?”

  “What’s in the cooler?” she asked. Not what she was supposed to say next.

  “Champagne. And your ring. I needed it somewhere you wouldn’t find it if you went rummaging through my pockets. You know I asked you a question, right?”

  Her smile broke through, and she pulled him to his feet. “Yes.” She kissed him hard, until he was pretty sure his heart didn’t fit in his chest anymore. “I love you too, and yes. A million bazillion times, from now until eternity, yes.”

  “That’s not technically possible.” He liked being able to tease her back. She’d earned it.

  She pulled him the rest of the way to the blanket, coaxed him down, and straddled his legs. “You say that, but we can find a way to make it happen.”

  He couldn’t argue that. Didn’t want to. He placed his hand at the base of her neck and captured her mouth. With Trina, anything could happen, and he was looking forward to turning every one of those possibilities into a new memory.

  THE END

  If you enjoyed Riding the Wave, and want another sexy, not-your-typical billionaire/virgin romance, check out The Virgin and The Kingpin.

  As CEO of a porn empire, Andrew could get any woman he wants. But he can’t seem to shake his attraction for innocent Susan, his best friend’s younger sister...

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of Chapter One.

  The Virgin and The Kingpin
Chapter One

  “I don’t need the company, thanks. My boyfriend gets jealous.”

  Despite his attempts to ignore the conversation in the booth to his right, Andrew heard every word loud and clear over the din in the steakhouse. He finished his Coke. It was nights like this he wished he still drank. Whoever was next to him had been trying to give some persistent asshole a polite brushoff for the last ten minutes. She’d said everything short of go the fuck away.

  “If your boyfriend cared, he wouldn’t make you eat dinner alone. That’s why you’re enjoying my company instead.” That was the persistent asshole.

  Andrew rolled his eyes.

  His meal was over, and that meant so was the audio dinner show. It was obvious his sister was going to stand him up. As if she knew why he wanted to talk to her. He signed the bill, left a generous tip, and grabbed his credit card.

  “He’s working. Some people do that.” Irritation crept into the woman’s sweet tone.

  On his way out, Andrew would ask one of the waitresses to rescue her. He wanted to get back to his hotel. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; no one deserved to be harassed like that. He knew how this went down if he interfered, though. Regardless of who she was, the woman would take one look at the scars on his face, and cringe away. Skin grafts had taken care of most of the damage from the third-degree burns, but the ugliness lingered.

  She might try to recover and play happy to see him. She might tell him to go to hell. Either way, the rescue would be ruined.

  Besides, the only reason he was in town now, rather than waiting a few weeks until Christmas was closer, was to watch the woman he used to love marry someone else. He wasn’t up for another round of rejection. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his face. That was the only good thing about the weather—the look wasn’t out of place in this chill.

  Instead of his feet moving toward the door, though, he found himself turning down the aisle and heading toward the booth that had been opposite his. He was going to regret this, but it didn’t stop him.

  He pasted on a gentle smile as he drew within visual range of the woman, and his brain sputtered to a halt when he saw her face. If it weren’t for the blue hair that barely brushed her ears, she could be Mercy ten years ago. The first time they met. Which was ridiculous; Mercy was that much older now, same as he was. He recovered quickly, grateful his pace never faltered, and approached.

  “Hey, sis. Sorry to keep you waiting.” He slid into the seat across from her and braced himself for the backlash. “Snow, traffic, blah, blah, bullshit—held me up. You know how it is.”

  Instead of flinching or hesitating or turning away, she treated him to the brightest smile he’d ever seen. Her eyes matched the vibrant color of her hair, and everything about her expression was genuine. “Brady. I thought you weren’t going to make it. So glad things worked out.”

  “Buddy, do you mind? We’re talking.” Arrogant Asshole.

  She scowled. “He’s my brother.”

  “So? You and I aren’t done.”

  Andrew was sick of this. He stood, smile growing, and extended his hand. “So sorry to interrupt.” He kept his tone cool. “I should leave you two alone.”

  “Thanks, man.” Arrogant Asshole looked surprised, but that didn’t deter him from shaking Andrew’s hand.

  Andrew clapped him on the other shoulder, gripped tight and moved in close. The rapid movement pressed the guy into the dividers between the booths and pinned his arm between them.

  Arrogant Asshole snarled and tried to wrench free. “What the fuck?”

  “It works like this.” Andrew lowered his head, so his mouth was next to the guy’s ear, hoping that made the dude extra uncomfortable. Andrew’s voice was low and steady. “Leave the young lady alone. Tonight. Every night. Forget you ever met her.”

  “Fucking psychopath.” Arrogant Asshole’s insult drew attention from surrounding booths.

  Andrew pulled back, to look him in the eye, and tightened his grip enough to hurt. He grinned, showing teeth. “How’d you know? Wanna guess which body part I take first from the guys who don’t leave my baby sister alone?” His words were only meant for Arrogant Asshole’s ears.

  The guy wrenched free of Andrew’s grip, stumbling in the process. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut again, before turning toward the door and all but breaking into a sprint. Once upon a time, a confrontation like this would have sent Andrew’s pulse and adrenaline through the roof. One of the biggest downsides to being in porn was there was at least one guy like that at every industry party. It was sad that assholeness was the norm.

  Andrew braced himself to be told off and turned back to the woman with the crystal-blue eyes.

  Her grin widened, and she nodded to the bench across from her. “Thank you. I didn’t know how to get rid of him.”

  “No worries. Make sure when you leave, you ask one of the waitresses to walk you to your car.” He didn’t take a seat.

  “You can join me. I don’t bite.”

  He had so many pre-programmed responses to that, starting with that’s a shame and getting filthier from there, but none seemed appropriate with her. She radiated innocence. That was disconcerting by itself. She also had to be nearly a decade younger than his twenty-eight. If she were one of his girls, she’d headline the Barely Legal and Girl Next Door pages without hesitation.

  “I wasn’t trying to intrude,” he said.

  Her smile slipped but didn’t vanish. She offered her hand. “I’m Shusan.”

  “Andrew.” Walking away now would be rude. He shook her hand and sat. Her name—minus the lisp—jarred a memory he couldn’t grasp.

  “Thank you again, good shir.” Her words bled into a giggle, as she gave him a mock bow. The laughter stretched on for several seconds, before she met his gaze again. Another couple of snickers slipped out. “Shorry.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “This is like my fourth Coke? They’re really good here. I should shtop.” She lost herself in another fit of giggles, not calming down until she hiccupped for air. She pressed her palm to her forehead. “Owie. Dizzy.”

  He grabbed her glass and took a sniff. No alcohol, as far as he could tell. He might be wrong, but her answer made him think she wasn’t drinking. Unusual in any other state, but welcome to Utah—Mormonville USA.

  If she didn’t have any alcohol, that probably meant... Shit. A side-effect of having been a GHB addict for several years was that he knew the symptoms of the high. Odds looked good that Arrogant Asshole slipped her a roofie. “You should get home, Suzie-Q. Do you have someone you can call?”

  “I drove. Why would I call someone?”

  “Driving’s probably not in your best interest right now. A friend? A family member?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head back and forth so hard, he thought it might snap off at the neck. “If my friends were free, they’d be here. Dad’s out of town. Mershy’s at dinner with her fiancé.”

  His gut twisted in on itself. That explained why she looked familiar. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Casablanca. Mercy—your sister?”

  “Does that make you her brother, too? How’d you know?”

  Ask Mercy, and he might as well be. “I’m smarter than your average psychopath.” He pulled his phone from his front pocket and dialed the familiar number. It went straight to voice mail, and he disconnected before Mercy finished asking him to leave a message. He ticked off a list of possibilities in his head. Susan was worse than drunk, and if she was lucky, she’d forget most of this in the morning. She’d also be unconscious, or as good as, in the next couple of hours.

  She shouldn’t be alone, so taking her back to an empty house was a bad idea. If he kept her out, he’d be the one who looked like a creeper, and he wasn’t interested in spending the couple of hours in jail it would take to figure the situation out. Other towns, he’d flash a business card a
nd hope it got him a smile and a free pass. Park City? That had a much lower probability of working out in his favor. Telling them he was the owner of the second largest internet-porn company in the world might have him rotting in a cell until his lawyer showed up in person.

  “It was nice meeting you. I need to get home.” She stood and stumbled.

  He was on his feet in an instant, his arm around her waist. “Getting out of here is a good idea.” He guided them toward the door.

  Outside, tinsel trees hung from every other lamp post, lit with multi-colored lights that reflected off the snow. He’d give the town this—it was gorgeous in the winter. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being here for the holidays.

  He led them to his rental, grateful she didn’t protest along the way. He helped her into the passenger seat.

  She scowled. “‘S’not my car.”

  “We’ll grab yours later.”

  “‘Kay.”

  As he walked to the driver’s side, he called Mercy again. This time he was prepared to leave a message. “Miss Mercy, guess who? I need you to call me A-sap. I have a younger version of you, who needs her big sister. Did I mention A-sap? Talk soon.”

  “Who’d you call?” Susan asked the moment he was in the car.

  “Mercy.”

  She pouted, crossed her arms, and sank lower in her seat. “She won’t call you back. She turns off her phone when she’s out with Ian and Liz.”

  Of course she did. In that case, they were going back to his hotel room, and he was crossing his fingers and praying to every god and goddess who ever existed it didn’t bite him in the ass.

  As he headed toward his home-for-the-month, she leaned her forehead against the window. “Where are we going?” The glass muffled her question.

  “My place.” He probably should have explained that up front.

  “Just ‘cause you saved me doesn’t mean you get to pop my cherry.”

  And she was a virgin, too. Please, Jesus, don’t let her remember any of this in the morning. “You can keep that and everything else intact.”

  “Promise?”