Inhibitions
Mattie Bowman
Contents
Inhibitions
Copyright
Dedication
1. Presley
2. Owen
3. Presley
4. Owen
5. Presley
6. Owen
7. Presley
8. Owen
9. Presley
10. Owen
11. Presley
12. Owen
13. Presley
14. Owen
15. Presley
16. Owen
17. Presley
18. Owen
19. Presley
Epilogue
The End
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Inhibitions
Book 1
Mattie Bowman
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 by Mattie Bowman All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
ISBN# eBook: 978-1-946356-99-4
For anyone who needs an escape!
1 Presley
“Do you have a second, Presley?”
I cringed. Was there anything worse than your boss hollering across the lobby as you’re actively trying to leave work an hour after quitting time? I mustered a smile and spun around, my long blonde locks swishing over my shoulder.
“Of course, Pamela. What’s up?”
The click of her Prada heels echoed through the lobby of Glimmer magazine’s headquarters as she hustled to catch me. I swallowed hard and shifted my purse to my other arm. For over a year I’d written plenty of fluff pieces for Glimmer, and she’d never singled me out before. This was either going to be a dream come true—complete with an offer to be a full-time featured columnist—or it would be a nightmare—with a polite notice that my stunning articles like what to wear to your sister’s niece’s ninth birthday party were no longer needed.
“Whew,” she said, slightly out of breath when she reached me. “I’ve been trying to catch you since you got off the elevator.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, only now realizing I probably should’ve gone to her the second I heard her voice.
She waved me off, the flash of her six carat emerald cut diamond sparkling underneath the amber lighting. “Don’t be. Now I can skip my workout.”
She laughed so I laughed and then her eyebrows shot up her forehead as she set eyes on something behind me. “Holy burning ovaries. Who is that guy? I’ve seen him around the building before but haven’t gotten the scoop on him yet.”
I glanced over my shoulder and an effortless grin shaped my lips.
Owen—my best friend for over five years—waited just outside the lobby on the busy sidewalk, his cell pressed to his ear. He had a surprisingly easy air about him, the way he casually slipped a hand inside the pocket of his just tight enough jeans and laughed at something whoever was on the other end of the phone said, exposing a smile that almost guaranteed women would throw themselves at him for the rest of his existence.
His body though—the one I’d seen too many times only clothed in gyms shorts—was what dropped panties. As one of the city’s hottest up and coming boxers, he was cut in every way a man could be, down to some massively impressive V-lines.
After David had crushed my heart, Owen’s lickable exterior had offered a wonderful tool on lonely nights when I needed to love myself. But that’s all it ever was, fantasy. Because I’d never allow myself to get burned again. Plus, he was too great a friend to even think about crossing the line with.
“That’s Owen,” I finally said, turning back to my boss. Her eyes widened as she focused on him and then back to me.
“You’re the mystery girl he brings lunch? And picks up after work?”
I smiled and shrugged. We had a standing Thursday night non-date which included dinner and drinks to blow off the week. Fridays were reserved for his prowling—the barely hard search for the next notch on his bedpost. Thursdays were mine—plus a couple of lunches a week and the occasional Sunday breakfast.
“This is excellent,” Pamela said. “I’ve found a story I’m dying to have and you will be absolutely perfect for it.”
My heart stalled and restarted at the prospect of rolling my sleeves up and doing some real writing for Glimmer. Hell, my mouth practically watered as I waited for her to continue.
She eyed Owen over my shoulder, a devious smile on her face. “You know that A-list retreat, Inhibitions?”
I knitted my eyebrows. “The one secluded up in the mountains somewhere?”
“Yes.” She pointed her finger at me before touching it to her lips. “It’s known for making or breaking high-profile marriages or setting up a new couple for one hell of a life together. I’ve been searching for the perfect couple to send for a two weeks to bring me back the full scoop.”
“Oh, Pamela, I—”
“I know it’s a little intrusive,” she cut me off. “We won’t use your name if you’re uncomfortable. Everyone who is anyone knows the retreat specializes in figuring out your deepest fantasies and setting them up for you. The ultimate test to see just how compatible you and your significant other really are.” She chuckled and rubbed her hands together.
“But Owen—”
“This will be an eight-page spread in the summer’s hottest issue,” she stopped me again.
I snapped my mouth shut.
An eight-page spread? That was career making. The one thing I’d dreamed about since I first put in my application for the magazine. An article like that could showcase my writing chops and secure me future features in every issue following. It was the dream.
“We’ll do it.” The words had left my mouth before I had the time to rationally think about what I was agreeing to.
Pamela clapped her hands together before she squeezed my arm. “Fabulous!” She arched an eyebrow toward Owen. “I bet he’ll flip when he hears he gets to go on a paid fantasy vacation. You’re a lucky girl.” She patted my arm before clicking back toward the elevators.
I huffed out a laugh, walking slowly as I pushed through the lobby’s giant glass doors.
Owen slipped his cell in his pocket and motioned behind me. “Took you long enough. What does she want this time, a story on why eating a banana every day will make you sexier to your man?”
I burst out laughing, covering my lips with my fingers as we walked toward our favorite restaurant five blocks down.
“Not exactly,” I said, a cold dread sinking in my stomach like a block of ice. This was the chance of a lifetime, but it had already started off on a lie.
“Oh no, it’s worse?” He asked, holding the door open for me.
The signature smell of a brewery—freshly fried food and custom brewed beer—engulfed me as he snagged us a high-top near the bar. The waitress was at our side before I could hang my purse off the tall wooden chair.
“What can I get you tonight?” She batted her eyes at Owen, shamelessly sticking her chest out just enough to call attention to the move.
“Two Back and Black, IPAs—”
“Act
ually,” I cut Owen off by placing my hand lightly on his wrist. I jerked it back once I saw the disappointment in the waitress’s eyes. “We’ll take one vodka tonic and two fingers of Jameson, please.”
Owen arched an eyebrow at me but simply smiled at the waitress.
“Okay, now I know she is forcing you to write something awful. You never do the hard stuff on a weekday. What’s up?” he rested his elbows on the table ready to take whatever I laid on him.
He always did. That was one of the things I loved about us. He could tell me every shitty thing about his day, and I could do the same, and it wasn’t like talking to a wall. My chest ached with the memory of how my ex, David, rarely listened to me and yet I always chalked it up to his mysterious charm. Idiot.
“Presley,” Owen chided.
“After drinks.” I needed time to think about what I’d just gotten myself into, and I needed the liquid courage to ask Owen to help me.
“Since when have you needed to drink before you talk to me?” He shifted in his seat, his dark chocolate eyes losing the playfulness they once held. “He didn’t call you did he? Show up to your place?”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “No. Of course not. I would’ve called you.”
“Damn straight you would have.”
The sharp bite to his tone made my stomach flip and heat pool in my chest, relieving some of the tension there. He’d help put me back together after I thought I’d never feel normal again. There were days I still didn’t realize how blind I’d been about my ex.
“Here we go,” the waitress said, sliding our drinks in front of us.
I immediately scooped mine up and sipped. Eyeing Owen’s questioning gaze over my glass, I tried to picture what he’d say when I asked him to pretend to be my fiancé on a two-week fantasy themed vacay. That sip turned into an ongoing gulp.
“She’ll need another one,” Owen said when I still hadn’t set my glass down. “And two bourbon burgers, one with rings, one with sweet potato fries.”
“You got it,” she said and gave me a pitying look as she trotted off.
I slammed the empty glass down on the table. “I love you,” I said, out of breath.
His eyebrows shot up his head.
“You knew exactly what I wanted to eat.”
He chuckled, his white teeth perfect against the tan tone of his skin. “You are kind of predictable.”
I flinched despite knowing he hadn’t meant it as a jab. David had repeatedly said that, going as far to say I was horribly boring in bed too—which is why I still to this day don’t know why I was so shocked to walk in on him fucking a brunette in our bed. Maybe it was the fact that it was two weeks before we were supposed to be married. I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the memories away. There were bigger issues to deal with.
Like, for instance, my dream job resting on the weight of my overly sexy, totally playboy best friend.
“You’re not drinking,” I said, my eyes darting from his glass to his lips and back again.
“You’re extra bossy tonight.” He shook his head and took a drink.
I immediately held the bottom of it, forcing him to swallow it down to the ice.
He set the empty glass down, chasing a few lost drops of whiskey off his bottom lip with his tongue. A flutter rushed through me, and I scanned the area for our waitress, desperate for another drink. It’s not like I’d never felt attracted to Owen before—I mean how could I not be? The man was the definition of a tall drink of water, with a side of guaranteed wild sex. Dark hair and eyes, the ripped body of someone who boxes for a living, and a sense of humor to boot. But my senses were on overdrive tonight. I accounted them to my nerves. How could I make him see how badly I needed this gig to ensure my career?
“If you don’t start talking I’m going to post that picture you think I deleted from last summer’s road trip.”
My mouth dropped. The image of me in nothing but a lacy purple bra, wringing out my just doused tank top behind a tree, my face a hysterical form of shock—so far from sexy it was sad—flashed in my head. “Why do you still have that picture?!”
“Easy. Leverage. Never know when I’ll need it.” He cracked a grin. “You know I never did get to thank that trucker who hosed my bike that day.”
A flush raked over my face, and I tossed my hair over my shoulder, stifling a laugh. “Very funny. You weren’t the one who didn’t have an extra shirt to wear. I was drenched! A real gentleman would’ve given me his spare threads and driven us back to the hotel shirtless.” I snorted. We’d only stopped for a moment to allow the GPS on his cell to re-route us. A massive truck had passed us at top speeds, nailing us with what felt like an entire swimming pool full of water from a nearby puddle.
Owen had forced me to go on the motorcycle trek he took every year down the Twisty Redwood Ride—a route that was nearly two-hundred miles away. I hadn’t wanted to go. David had just happened, but Owen wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’d had more fun on that trip, surrounded by motorcycles and Owen’s closest friends than I could ever remember. He’d made me forget. Then he’d made me remember who I was before David—which to my surprise—was a pretty fun girl if given the chance.
“Five,” Owen’s voice cut through my thoughts. He waved his cell in front of me; his extremely popular SnapChat page pulled up on the screen. “Four.” His thumb tapped the post photo button, and I gasped, attempting to snatch the cell out of his hand. His massively strong arms were way too quick for me as he held it out of my reach.
“All right! All right!” I sank back into my chair and raked my hands through my hair. “Oh thank, God,” I said when the waitress brought me another drink. I tossed it back, downing it almost quicker than the first. The crisp, cold burn from the vodka was heaven but didn’t slow my racing heart. “Pamela offered me the story of a lifetime.”
The smile that spread across Owen’s face was infectious, and for a few seconds I just wanted to live in a moment where this was a normal night, where I’d finally earned a steady job doing what I loved, and he was proud of me. He noted my shifting mood and tilted his head.
“Why do you look like you stole her big ass diamond ring, then?” He set his drink down when I didn’t respond. “Oh, Presley, tell me you didn’t steal her big ass diamond!”
“No, God, of course not.” I rolled my eyes.
“Then what the hell is going on?”
I took a deep, steadying breath. “Okay, first off I’d like to say that I’ve wanted to be a feature columnist at Glimmer since I was like—”
“Ten,” he cut me off. “I know. Don’t do the disclaimer thing you always do. Not with me.”
“Right.” I eyed his half-full second drink and sighed when he picked it up to placate me. “Right. If I do the story she offered it will be huge. There is no way I’m not hired on full-time.”
“Then do it.” He shrugged. “Seriously, woman, what is the question here?”
I knitted my eyebrows. “You remember that time in college I had you fill in at the auction for the school paper?”
“Yeah, you put me on stage and auctioned me off to the highest bidder.”
“You made twenty-five hundred dollars!”
“She was seventy-five!”
I chuckled, the memory of him looping his arm around the elderly lady and taking her out to dinner fresh in my mind.
“You saved my ass,” I finally said.
“Oh, hell. Is Glimmer having a damn auction? What are they raising money for?”
“No.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Pamela asked me to do a full write-up on Inhibitions.” My shoulders fell at his complete lack of recognition of the name. “It’s that uber-famous fantasy resort?” I raised my eyebrows at him. “For couples,” I finally added.
“Oh,” he said, and after a few seconds a light clicked on behind those deep brown eyes of his. “Oh.”
“Exactly.” I gave him my most innocent I didn’t mean to look. “She saw you outside and assumed that you and I were�
�” I motioned between us. “That you were…my fiancé.”
The man went stone still, every glorious muscle locked in place like he was about to stop a freight train. A few breaths and he laughed.
Ouch.
“I know it’s ridiculous,” I said, swallowing hard. “But I didn’t correct her. This story would make my career. And she would never have to know---“
“Wait,” he said. “You mean you want me to come with you? Pretend to be your betrothed?”
“It’s not like I’ve got anyone else to ask, Owen. Plus, she took one look at you”—I trailed my eyes up and down his body, taking in every inch of him—“and was practically bouncing with excitement. I mean, it’s hard to blame her, you do look like every woman’s deepest fantasy.”
“Get out of here.” He rolled his eyes and ran his palms over his face.
“I know. It’s horrible I didn’t tell her the truth, but I want this story, Owen. I want to grab my chance at finally having the job I’ve dreamed of my entire life. After the way my life has gone…it would be the one thing I could look at and feel perfectly happy with.” I may not have gotten the white wedding and perfect husband like I had thought I was on track for, but my dream career? That I would do anything for.
I watched him as he continued to scrape his fingers over his face, the dark stubble on his jaw, and back up to his thick strands of black hair. He let out a long breath. “When are we going? I’ll have to tell Jordon.”
A squeak came out of my mouth, and I bounced in my chair. “Wait, really? You’ll do it?”
He shrugged. “I’m in between fights right now. I could use a little vacation.”
I bolted out of my seat and threw my arms around his neck, resisting the urge to kiss him. I was that happy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
His arms came around me easily, holding me to his hard chest which vibrated under his laughter. The smack of our plates on the table drew me back to reality, and I reeled in my giggles. If the waitress’s eyes were daggers, I’d be dead. I quickly retook my seat, almost feeling sorry for her wrong assumption about who I was to Owen.
Inhibitions Page 1
