Lucky Charm: A St. Patrick's Day Irish Billionaire Fake Fiance Romance

by Eva Luxe

  “You look wonderful,” I said.

  “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she said, winking.

  “The chicken still has a few minutes, but everything else is ready.”

  “It smells wonderful in here.” She pushed her way right past me, as if she had been over before. There was a familiarity to letting her in and to watching her take in my cabin.

  At this point, most women were stumbling with me up the stairs to my bed. They never experienced my cabin or felt any other surface other than the one I was fucking them against.

  But Paige seemed to fit well into a scenario I never took the time to imagine: a scenario where a woman was here regularly, filling it with her perfumes and her toothbrush and her scent. A scenario where a woman never left in the morning, but instead, allowed me to make her breakfast. A scenario where a woman would drop in simply because she was in the neighborhood and wanted to see me.

  I could picture Paige in that kind of role.

  “Would you like some wine?” I asked. “I also have beer.”

  “Wine would be wonderful, thank you,” she said.

  Her eyes spotted the table I had set up for us. One small candle flickered in the center of the it, surrounded by a bowl of mashed potatoes, a bowl of fruit, and two glasses of water. She turned her head and smiled at me, beaming a radiance that both settled my bones and thundered my heart in my chest.

  I could feel every inch of her beauty even though I wasn’t touching a centimeter of her skin.

  I walked over to the fridge and pulled out the chilled bottle of Riesling. I popped it open and poured her a glass, then handed it to her before I pulled out a beer. Things were quiet between us as the chicken finished cooking, but when it was done, she was at the stove before I could get there.

  “Let me get that,” I said.

  “Please. You’ve done enough. Sit.”

  She set her glass of wine down on the kitchen counter. As if she’d been here many times before, she bent over with two dish towels in her hands and pulled the chicken out of the oven. I could hear her moaning over the smells, even as she set the stuffed breasts onto the stove.

  Then she looked over at me and smiled. “You’ve really outdone yourself. I would’ve been fine with a pizza.”

  “Nothing beats a healthy, home-cooked meal.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Healthy, huh? You one of those vegan, non-GMO, drink-only-water-or-you’ll-die people?”

  “Not really. My mom taught me that taking care of our bodies was our responsibility because no one else would do it for us.” I grabbed our plates and scooped up the chicken breasts.

  Paige stared at me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun—”

  “It’s okay,” I said, grinning. “I know what you meant.”

  She sighed, and her shoulders heaved. I could tell she was beating herself up over the joke she’d just made. I didn’t really know how I could calm her down. She hadn’t offended me—not by a longshot—but I could tell she wasn’t convinced that she hadn’t.

  “I promise you, it’s fine,” I said.

  “It really wasn’t my place to crack that kind of joke,” Paige said. “It’s just, you don’t strike me as the type to care that much about your food.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, my grin growing into a smirk. “Is it because of the tattoos? Or the beer drinking?”

  “Zach, this isn’t funny,” she said.

  “Is it the blacked-out motorcycle?” I asked. “Or the fact that I’m quiet?”

  “Zach,” she said, groaning.

  “No, really. I’m curious. Are men with tattoos who ride bikes and wear leather jackets supposed to eat fatty hot wings alongside their beer?”

  “Well, they’re certainly not supposed to eat dainty little salads with two ounces of red wine vinaigrette,” she said.

  “I don’t eat dainty salads,” I said plainly. “I eat manly ones.”

  She giggled into her wine glass, and I felt the tension deflate between the two of us.

  “I’m so sorry,” Paige said, giggling.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I said.

  “I just, holy hell, I don’t do this often.”

  “You don’t eat dinner often? Our first date said differently.”

  “You little shit. I don’t date often.”

  “That’s a shame,” I said. “Are the men all blind where you come from?”

  “Is that all I’m here for? To be your eye candy?”

  “That depends. Can I touch you?”

  Her eyes connected with mine as I stood next to the table of untouched food. Her beautiful sea-green eyes danced with mine, and a small blush creeped across her cheeks. I wanted to get my hands on her. One well-placed kiss on the nape of her neck and she would fall into me. I knew that flush, and I knew that look. She was battling something inside.

  I wanted her to know that if she lost that battle, I’d be there to catch her and make it worth her while.

  “Come eat,” I said. “The food’s gonna get cold.”

  “This dinner looks great,” she said as she sat down. “Thank you.”

  “It’s not a problem. Bought and paid for. That was the deal, right?”

  She nodded. “It was.”

  I watched her cut into her chicken before she took a bite. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and the moan that left her lips twitched my cock. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as a drop of juice from the chicken dribbled out. I had to swallow my tongue to keep from groaning at the sight.

  I wanted her lips wrapped around my cock more than I could stand.

  “This is a wonderful cabin,” she said, glancing around. “Very rustic.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad someone recognizes its beauty. My buddy Caden likes to give me a hard time about its condition. But when I bought it, it was even worse. I’ve fixed it up in between working, but, I don’t have a lot of time to spend on it, so it’s perpetually a work in progress.”

  “It’s incredibly beautiful, and it suits you.”

  “It suits my tattoos or my diet?” I asked, grinning.

  She threw a grape at me in response.

  “Hey, don’t assault the cook. I still have time to take your food away.”

  “Unless I pick up the plate and start running,” she said.

  “You wouldn’t get to the door before I’d have you in my arms.”

  Her eyes fluttered up to mine before quickly looking back down at her plate. She took a bite of her mashed potatoes. “Holy fuck, these are good. They’re practically melting in my mouth.”

  “That’s the difference between whipped and mashed potatoes,” I said.

  “You could open a restaurant with these recipes,” she said. “Where did you learn to cook?”

  “I watched my mother whenever she was in the kitchen, but I mostly learned myself. After I saw her on the—” My eyes locked with my plate, and my mind began to swirl. Was I really just about to tell her that? Was it about to slip out that easily? I could feel her eyes on the top of my head as I speared a piece of watermelon.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “When you saw her on the what?” Paige asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is—”

  “Zach.”

  Her tone of voice caused me to look up at her.

  “Where did you see your mother?” she asked.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because the parent of the opposite gender has the most influence on a child,” she said. “At least according to pop psychology.”

  I rolled my eyes at her and her pop psychology. But I decided to see where this conversation would take us.

  Chapter 22- Zach

  “Will you tell me about your father, then?” I asked.

  “If it gets you talking, sure.”

  I held her gaze, and I drew in a deep breath. Then I relinquished myself into her care. There was something magnetizing and comforting abo
ut her presence that made me instinctively want to open up to her. It was like I had known her for much longer than a few days.

  “I saw her being rolled out of our home on a gurney one day as I was coming home from school. She had slit her wrists in her bed that morning.”

  Paige inhaled sharply. “Zach, I am so sorry.”

  I shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m not mad at her. Not with the life she lived.”

  “What kind of life did she live?” Paige asked gently.

  “A shitty one. I mean, it was full of money and luxury, but it was fucking miserable thanks to my father. She tried her best with me. Tried to turn things around when she realized how bad they were getting for me.”

  “With your father?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. My dad was a dick then, and I’m sure he’s a dick now. Cocky. Manipulative. An angry drunk.”

  “I know the kind,” she said.

  “Was your father one of them?” I asked.

  “No, I just know the kind from afar.”

  I wasn’t sure what that comment meant, but I let it slide. I wanted to know more about her family since she now knew the two biggest secrets about mine.

  “Where are your parents?” I asked.

  “Dead,” she said. “At least, I think so.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She took a long sip of wine. “I’m an orphan. Grew up in the foster care system. All I know is my mother was a junkie, and my father left me at the hospital to be claimed. When no one came for me, the state stepped in.”

  “Which state?” I asked.

  “Washington,” she said.

  “So, you’re from Washington.”

  “Seattle, yes.”

  I winced at the mention of that fucking city as I grabbed my beer. “Have you always lived in Seattle?”

  “No, I grew up in Spokane. Went to college in Seattle and just stayed.”

  “Did you enjoy Spokane?”

  “As much as an orphan bouncing around from home to home could,” she said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” she said.

  We ate for a little while longer in silence. The tension was thick between us, and not in the good way. I wanted to get to know her more. I wanted to know what she liked and disliked. I wanted to know how long she would be in town and what possessed her to vacation in a random town like Brookings.

  But I also wanted to diffuse the tension between us, and I knew just how to do that.

  “I have something for you,” I said.

  “What?” Paige asked.

  “A present. I picked something up for you.”

  “A present?” she asked. “You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t get you anything.”

  “It’s just a little something. Hold on a second.” I got up from the table.

  “No,” she called after me. “Let me get you something first, and then we can exchange gifts.”

  “This isn’t anything you have to repay,” I said.

  “I don’t like being indebted to others.”

  I walked behind my couch, where her gift was hiding out of sight. “Relax. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Zach.”

  “Would you just close your damn eyes?”

  She huffed with frustration, but she closed her eyes nonetheless. Shaking my head, I pulled the two-pack of painting canvases out and walked back to the table. Her eyes remained closed, but her face followed the sound of my steps before I sat back down in front of her.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Open your eyes.”

  It took her vision a second to readjust, but when it did, her lips parted in shock, and her eyes widened. She got up from her chair, immediately taking the canvases from my hands.

  “They’re painting canvases.”

  I nodded. “They are. I saw them at the store today, and they made me think of you. I don’t know anything about them, but the person at the store said these were the best kind to have.”

  “They’re wonderful,” she said breathlessly.

  The smile that crept across her face warmed me as I stood from the table. “If you don’t like them, I still have the receipt.”

  “I love them, Zach,” she said, smiling. “Thank you. You have no idea how perfect they are.”

  The way her eyes sparkled as she looked at her present told me she’d been downplaying how much she loved painting. It wasn’t just something she did in college. It wasn’t just a hobby. It was what she lived and breathed. It was what got her up in the mornings and pushed her through her day. I could see the passion dripping from her eyes.

  She placed the canvases down at her feet and threw her arms around my neck. I was surprised by her outpouring of physical affection, but I wasn’t going to turn it down.

  Her body vibrated with excitement as she hugged me close. “Holy hell, Zach. Thank you so much.”

  She pulled back from the hug, and I expected her hands to drop, but instead, our lips connected. It was a quick motion that took my breath away, and my hands sank to the small of her back as her lips pressed into mine. My open eyes watched her as her arms tightened around my neck, pulling my body closer.

  I could feel my cock growing behind my jeans. I decided to take a chance and lapped my tongue across her lips. At first, she didn’t budge, and I figured she would pull back away from the kiss soon enough. Instead, she stood up into her tip toes and pressed her lips to mine more passionately. My hands gripped her hips, and her tits pressed into my chest. Her body shook in my arms.

  I took a step toward her, my leg sliding in between hers, and I slowly pressed her against the kitchen counter.

  Her body felt so good underneath mine. Her back bowed, and our hips pressed together. That was when I felt her tongue. It swiped across my lips, and I opened myself for her, lapping up her sweetness as the food grew cold on the table. Her hands dug into the meat of my shoulders before they trailed down my muscles. I wanted to feel every part of her before she shut me down.

  But she never did. She ran her hands up my shirt and began tugging it up my body.

  So, I followed her lead.

  Chapter 23- Paige

  The moment his lips touched mine, I knew I was in trouble. The spark that flew between us was unmistakable. His strong arms felt warm wrapped around my body, and the way he pressed his hands into the small of my back made me feel protected. His chiseled peaks and valleys pulsed for me, begging for my lips to taste them.

  I wanted to run my lips along the outlines of his tattoos.

  The present had been overwhelming. The dinner was fabulous, and the wine was wonderful, but the gift was romantic. There were so many things about him that I didn’t know. So many things he told me that confirmed what I was finding instead of what Mr. Kent was feeding me. Mr. Kent was hiding something, and he was lying to me about Zach. I couldn’t prove it yet, but I knew Zach wasn’t a criminal.

  But oh, did the bad boy persona fit him.

  I pulled his shirt over his head, and he slid his hands up my sides. I trembled at his touch, feeling the calluses on his hands rake over my soft skin. He gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him, and my hands flew to his shaggy black hair. His tongue lapped at mine, shaking me to my core. He sucked on my bottom lip as his hands trailed my bare back. Then he slowly slipped my shirt over my head.

  He took a step back to drink me in, and I finally got a good look at Zach’s body. It left me speechless.

  He had a sprawling tattoo across his chest. It conformed to the peaks and valleys of his rippling muscles. His washboard abs caught my attention. The name “Melissa” was tattooed beautifully across his skin, arching just over his heart before it tapered off into either side of his body.

  I ran my fingertips across it lightly as he watched me.

  “Melissa was my mother’s name,” he said huskily.

  “Your tattoos are incredible,” I said.

  “I’m glad you like them.”

/>   My hands trailed along his taut skin before my fingertips slowly began working the button of his jeans. The fabric slid down his thighs effortlessly, and I ran my hands back up his stomach, relishing in his strength as his chest began to pant.

  I looked up into his bright blue eyes, and his lips came crashing down onto mine.

  We were a whirlwind of stifled passion and heated lust. He stepped out of his jeans, leaving his shoes behind before he shoved me to my knees. I palmed the thick outline of his cock behind his boxers, and I could hear him groan before he pulled it out.

  His dick was massive, thick and long and unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The vein protruding from its side was throbbing with want, and the head of his cock was beginning to leak.

  I had no idea how I was going to take all of him, but my mouth was craving his taste.

  I slipped my lips around his cock as he held it steady for me. I peered up at him from underneath my eyelashes and watched as he lobbed his head back. I spun him so that he was leaning up against the counter. Then I wrapped my hand around his thick base.

  I could feel him pulsing as my tongue worked around the head of his cock. His legs grew tighter and tighter as I eased him toward the back of my throat. I gagged on his girth. His hand migrated to my hair, and I moaned as he wrapped his fingers up into my soft tresses.

  His hips slowly worked his cock in and out of my mouth, my body knelt before him to do whatever it was he wished.

  His light pants and soft grunts were music to my ears. His body was beautiful, carved from the marble of the gods and flowing with sinewy muscle.

  Every inch of him was chiseled to perfection, from his abs to his thighs. His veins bulged, and his hips were thrusting harder, and I was trying not to gag too much on his length.

  Then he ripped my head from his cock and tugged me to my feet.

  Our lips encompassed one another’s again, and his hands grasped my ass. He picked me up and started walking. My body felt weightless in his strong arms as we ascended the stairs. Soon, my back was being pressed into a cold wall, and my body puckered at the sensation.

  “Shit,” I said breathlessly.

  “Such a dirty mouth,” Zach said. “I’m surprised you kissed me with it.”