Bad Boys Box Set: Complete Too Bad It’s Fake Romance Collection with New Novella

by Jamie Knight

  “I-I didn't know,” I said, taking him by the hand. He didn't pull away. Instead he squeezed back.

  I was honestly shocked. It had never occurred to me that Jacob had been a soldier. Part of it made me really nervous. I had already lost two soldiers in my life and wasn't keen on losing another. It was absurd, but some part of me was already falling for Jacob. Though it didn't really feel like love at first sight. It was like we had known each other for years. I hadn't felt that good or talked that openly for a very long time. Despite the risks of heartache, I decided it was worth it to stay.

  “I didn't tell you. Kind of went out of my way not to, honestly. People tend to freak out a bit when they find out. Most of them don't want to know. Especially people with friends or family who are still deployed. They want to think that they're going to be fine. Alive or dead tends to be the only two narratives. No one seems to want to know about those in between. The ones who make it out alive but not the same.”

  I listened to him carefully and noticed something about the way he spoke. There was something very familiar about it. Not only the words he chose but how he used them.

  “Is that what really happened to your arm?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It was actually from a roadside car bomb. The only reason I survived was I happened to be in exactly the right place and had time to turn. Otherwise, the piece that went into my arm would have gone into my chest, and my company would have no survivors at all.”

  “Your entire company died?” I asked, shocked.

  “The brass thinks we were targeted. Or at least I was,” Jacob said.

  “Why?”

  “I was a sniper. You can only kill so many enemy combatants before they take notice,” Jacob said, with surprising neutrality.

  “Were you in a vehicle crash?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Humvee got flipped a while before that. That was the first attempt we figured. The drivers were killed, but everyone in the back survived, and we all got extracted. To add insult to injury, it was on the way back to the base that the second bomb, a car bomb this time, went off sending shrapnel and flames everywhere. Apparently, they really wanted me dead. Kind of flattering in an odd way.”

  My mind was swimming. The biggest thing that stood out was that this man was a sniper. That was something that the other Jacob I had been corresponding with had told me about himself. And when he had stopped writing, all I had heard about from the higher-ups was about the Humvee flipping. Apparently, they didn't want anyone to know about the second attempt, but it rang so close to what I had heard about the Jacob I was writing to before.

  And oh my God, his eyes! How many men could there possibly be with eyes like that? I had never seen a picture, but the soldier’s powers of description were amazing, and I could visualize them in my head. And they looked exactly like the eyes that were looking at me across the table.

  “Were you ever part of a military pen pal program?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “Yeah, how did you know?” he asked.

  “What was the name of the person you were writing?” I asked, as though I didn't know.

  “Charlotte as I recall,” he said, trying to remember. Then he glanced down at the table.

  I squeezed his hand even harder, making him look up at me, his eyes glistening like sapphires the restaurant lights.

  “You want to hear something crazy?” Jacob asked.

  “Try me,” I said, not sure how things could get any odder.

  “I actually wondered about that when you said that your fiancé was killed,” he admitted.

  “You did?” I asked, even more surprised.

  “It just seemed like too much of a coincidence,” he whispered, shocking me into silence by the sheer irony of the situation.

  Here I was holding the hand of the man I had written to years ago. It was amazing.

  Chapter Seven

  Jacob

  The scene at the table turned into a kind of tableaux. Neither of us speaking or even moving as the truth hit us like a freight train. The food laying on the table was like a still life. I couldn't even hear the pumped in music anymore. Everything in me was focused on Charlotte and the moment in which we had both become trapped like a kind of time warp.

  Charlotte was the one I had been writing to. The one who made me feel alive and kept me going when things seemed the worst.

  A lot of the things I had told her, including some of my deepest, darkest secrets, were confided to her because it felt safe at the time. In my mind, she was forever going to be a stranger, and because the program was anonymous couldn't betray my confidence if she wanted to. Though, to be fair, even then she didn't seem like someone who would do that.

  Now this woman who knew so much about me was sitting across the table looking like an angel. The situation was making my mind and stomach flip. My mind spun with both positive and negative thoughts.

  Most of the items in the positive column had to do with the here and now. How ethereally beautiful she was. How curvy and sexy, to the point that I couldn't help undressing her with my eyes. Not the sort of thing I would usually do, but there was something about this woman that made me have to do it. Her breasts certainly helped, and her legs that 'went all the way up' as my dad might have said. The gentle, round curve of her ass acted like a magnet to my eyes. It felt good to be able to look at her, despite the low-level embarrassment it brought — not to mention the sudden tightness in my pants.

  On the other hand, there was the shock and the doubt. The shock of meeting someone I had every reason to think would always remain anonymous and the uncertainty about what she might actually think now that she had seen me in the flesh. I wasn't bad looking by traditional standards. Many women had called me handsome, and I had no reason to contradict them. Even if I didn't really see it myself.

  Since the PTSD, though, I had been really self-conscious, particularly about my arm. It might have been bullshit machismo of a different type, but I really didn't want anyone pitying me. It didn't help that I wanted Charlotte so much but had no idea how she saw me. Or, for that matter, how her image of me had changed from the one she had built up in her head while we were writing to each other — especially considering some of the things I told her. A lot of which was pretty fucking dark and would make most people run the other way had they been uttered in person. Not because of the things I had done so much as what had been done to me and I had seen done to others. It could be really shocking to have your illusions challenged, let alone shattered.

  “Can I see your hotel room?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “Um, sure,” I said, not knowing what else to say to her blunt request.

  After I paid the bill, the silence continued as we drove through the night. The streetlights were like giant, predictable stars. As though reading my mind, Charlotte pushed the button on the CD player, the loud music picking up where we had left off. That was something we had in common, at least. There could be a lot more, for that matter. We had been writing for a long time, neither of us really seemed to have a filter, protected behind an assumed shield of anonymity. If half of what she wrote was true, I knew more about Charlotte than anyone save for maybe Hayley. A prospect that thrilled me as much as it was unsettling.

  The hotel had outside entrances to the rooms, which was a relief so no one would see me entering with a strange woman. I didn't really need any lectures about it 'isn't that kind of hotel.' Particularly when I wasn't sure that any such thing would be going on. Thereby making anyone who assumed otherwise a dirty-minded dick in terms of their presumptions.

  Truth be told, I wasn't even sure if I wanted anything like that to happen. Not in that moment anyway. I was still pretty conflicted. I was still intensely attracted to Charlotte but wanted to make sure she felt the same way. Besides which, I wasn't about to assume her intentions in asking to come and see my room. If I knew anything, it was that you could never really know or could even guess what was going on in someone else's mind.

  The lig
ht flashed green, and the lock clicked softly as the card reader worked, giving me precisely four seconds to open the door before it locked itself again. Part of the state-of-the-art security system, lest someone break in and steal the shower curtain and a fifteen-year-old TV set. You could never be too careful.

  I went to the coffee machine almost on reflex. My reliance on alcohol replaced with one on caffeine since I quit drinking. Charlotte meanwhile sat down on the couch, the only other piece of comfortable furniture other than the bed, and started slowly unlacing her boots, indicating that she planned on staying a while. An idea reinforced when she also slipped off her socks. I wondered if her shirt might be next, but she decided to stop where she was. I was conflicted between relief and disappointment. I would have loved to see her breasts in their glory but wasn't sure about where this would almost invariably lead, given the context.

  The coffeemaker started doing its thing, and I was faced with the choice of either staying where I was and waiting for it to finish or going over to the couch and sitting with Charlotte. It took about two seconds to decide on the second option.

  “That's really impressive,” Charlotte said as I sat down next to her.

  “What?” I asked.

  “How you can operate a coffee-machine one-handed,” Charlotte explained.

  I had never really thought about it before. It was just one of many things I had learned to do in the last year or so out of raw, naked necessity. A lot of what I did was for similar reasons, never really stopping to think about it, let alone considering my own pleasure or joy. So much of my existence was focused on pain and struggle.

  “I can do a lot one-handed,” I said, meaning it literally.

  “Really?” she asked, with a shy smile.

  “Yeah.”

  “Show me,” she whispered.

  I wrapped my right arm around and pulled her to me, making her giggle. She looked at me, and we kissed. It is impossible to say who leaned in first. It could very well have been a rare case of an entirely mutual kiss. What was sure was that it was incredibly passionate. There being maybe three seconds between initial contact and our mouths opening, out tongues gently massaging each other in a very erotic way — one in no way marred by the fact that Charlotte tasted slightly of the wine she was drinking at dinner.

  Pulling away gently, Charlotte rested her head on my shoulder, softly nuzzling my neck. I held her as best I could and kissed her on the cheek. I didn’t even think to bring up whether or not we were going to have sex. It was clear, at least to me, that it wasn't happening. Charlotte was obviously having many of the same doubts I was.

  Distantly I heard the flow of the coffeemaker pouring its payload into the pot and clicking itself off.

  I held Charlotte until she fell asleep in my arms. Picking her up fireman style, I carried her over the bed, tucking her in under the surprisingly nice cotton covers and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

  Pouring a mug of coffee, I sat on the couch and watched her sleep, until the night took me as well.

  Chapter Eight

  Charlotte

  There is an odd thing about dreams. You never knew when they might actually become real. Even with all the daydreaming I had done, I still didn't ever imagine that I might end up sleeping in Jacob’s bed. Granted, I was alone, but it was still much farther than I ever thought I would go at all, let alone on a first date.

  When I woke up, my mind went back to the night before and our passionate kissing. It was hard to tell for sure, but I was pretty convinced I had moved in first. I just wanted Jacob so much, I had been completely overwhelmed by my hormones and did what felt good. The truth was I had wanted to fuck him. My body was screaming for it. My pussy aching to have him deep inside me, but I still had a block — a small but strong thing in the back of my mind that kept me from doing what I really wanted in case it went wrong. I had already had my heart broken twice and wasn't sure I could make it through a third time. Especially considering numbers two and three would be from the same guy.

  That was part of it too. I had barely had time to cope with the fact that Jacob, my Jacob, was alive. After over a year of believing he was dead. Not that I had no reason to think that, but it still was pretty scant evidence when I started to think about it.

  I lifted my arm from the empty side of the bed, where I looked for him. Even all those years later, I still wasn't used to sleeping alone and reached out to cuddle or spoon who was beside me. Only this time, I had a somewhat new experience of not actually being alone in the room.

  Jacob was sprawled out on the couch, snoozing lightly. It was as peaceful as I had yet seen him. Though to be fair, I had really only known him for a day. I didn't really remember how I had gotten into the bed. I had a feeling I had been asleep at the time, and Jacob had carried me over and tucked me in. I tried to imagine how he could do that with only one good arm but couldn't quite. I figured I could ask him when he woke up. Whatever it was, I was sure it had been really impressive.

  Also impressive was how he had been such a gentleman, stopping when I wanted him to and sleeping on the couch, giving me the big bed. I slipped out of bed, still in my clothes, and did my best to walk stealthily to the door and get my boots on.

  “Leaving so soon?” Jacob asked, his eyes still closed.

  I dropped the boot I was about to put on, surprised to suddenly hear him speak. Particularly considering he looked fully asleep.

  “I-I have to go, get ready for the meeting with the landlord. He is coming all the way down from Santa Rosa, after all. You set up a meeting with the landlord, right?”

  “I did. Before going to pick you up last night,” Jacob confirmed, finally opening his eyes.

  “Right, right, exactly. I want to look as good as I can and—”

  “You look perfect to me,” Jacob said, looking me up and down in a way that made my cheeks blush and my pussy wet. I seriously could have jumped on him right then and there. “Do you regret staying last night?”

  I shook my head vigorously. Nothing could be further than the truth. If I anything, I regretted not being able to go as far as we both clearly wanted to. He didn't say anything at the time, but I could see his hard cock pressing up against his pants. I wondered if he had jerked off thinking about me.

  “No, not at all. I just want to go freshen up.”

  “I can order breakfast to the room, and I have two robes.”

  “Isn't that expensive?”

  “Not at all, the robes come with the room.”

  “I mean ordering room service.”

  “Probably. Liam is generously paying the room bill.”

  “Liam? Hayley's husband?”

  “That's the one,” he said, flashing a grin.

  “Okay, then.”

  While Jacob called for room service, I went into the bathroom and closed the door, though without bothering to actually lock it. I was secretly hoping that Jacob might decide to come in and join me. It would be a liberty but one that I didn't mind at all if he took. He could take all the liberties with me he liked as far as I was concerned.

  I slowly undressed, still hoping that he might come in and decide to help me out of my clothes. It didn't quite go that way, and I got into the shower alone, like I had been in bed, and he had been on the couch. Getting down to my bare essentials, I turned on the water and got under the warm spray, the tension in my shoulders starting to relax.

  When I was good and wet, I got the soap, surprisingly nice for a complimentary hotel bar, and started soaping my skin. I could at least tell myself I tried to get actually get clean before going straight down for my pussy.

  Letting the bar drop, I massaged the outside in small hard circles, doing my best to relieve the tension there as well. I started to moan softly as the pleasure flowed through me. I braced against the cool wall to keep myself upright in case my knees buckled, which they had been known to do.

  Slipping one finger up inside myself, I started working the walls of my pussy, gently brushing my
G-spot working up to it. My pussy was still really sensitive and needed to be handled gently, at least until I had cum a couple of times. Then I could get fucked with the best of them.

  Easing another finger in next to the first, I started moving both slowly in and out, continuing to stroke my clit with my thumb as I did so. I closed my eyes and imagined it was Jacob's cock working in and out of me, making me feel so damn good. Even though I was sure that his cock would feel even better. Sliding in and out of my tight little pussy. I wished so much I had the nerve to just come out and make it clear what I wanted. I just wasn't sure that he felt the same and didn't want to push him into anything he wasn’t ready for.

  Working myself to a deep, moaning orgasm, I turned off the shower and got out quickly drying off, feeling embarrassed about what I had done. Wondering if Jacob had heard me going to town on myself and what he thought if he had. I really didn't want to scare him away or having him think I was some kind of slut. Especially when all I really wanted was him. Even if I wasn't ready to admit it.

  “Are you okay?” Jacob asked when I came out, still tying up the robe.

  “Sorry?” I asked, surprised by the question.

  “You were in there for a while. I was just wondering if there was something wrong with the plumbing.”

  “Not anymore,” I said, blushing at my own semi-dirty joke.

  “Oh, good, I was concerned when I heard the moaning,” he said, one eyebrow slightly raised.

  Oh my God, he knew!

  Jacob was trying to play it cool, his tone so deadpan I wasn't quite sure, but I was pretty sure that he knew. He had heard me moaning in the shower while touching myself and imagining it was him. On the other hand, he didn't seem at all put off by it.

  At least not if the raging erection bulging in his pants was anything to go by.

  Chapter Nine

  Jacob

  As soon as Charlotte closed the door, I knew. I mean, she could have accidentally left the door unlocked but it seemed unlikely. It was closed to give me privacy if I wanted it but not locked, in case I wanted to go in there and join her and, oh lord, did I. Especially when the water started, and I could hear her moaning. Her delighted vocalizations echoed of the porcelain surfaces.