Page 5 of Claiming the Fake Boyfriend (Curvy Girls of Whitetail Falls #3)

"Your brewery is bigger than I expected," I say as Tucker and I stroll along the moonlit path beside Whitetail River, our fingers intertwined.

The wedding reception still glows in the distance, but we've escaped into our own world, guided only by the string of golden lanterns swaying gently in the autumn breeze.

"Is that a euphemism?" Tucker's eyebrow arches wickedly, his thumb tracing circles on my palm in a way that sends tiny electric currents up my arm.

I swat his arm with my free hand, but can't help laughing. "I was being sincere! I've walked past Storybook Brewery a hundred times but never really paid much attention."

"Well, allow me to give you the private tour." His voice drops to that gravelly register that makes my thighs clench involuntarily. "Very private. Very... thorough."

"I'd like that," I manage, surprised by my own boldness.

Tucker's brewery appears around the bend, its brick facade lit by vintage copper lanterns that cast amber shadows across the cobblestones. The words "Storybook Brewery" arch over the entrance in hand-painted lettering, with smaller text beneath: "Every Beer Tells a Tale."

Tucker pulls me to a stop, his hands framing my face with unexpected tenderness. His eyes are serious in the golden light, searching mine. "Amber," he says, my name sounding like something precious on his lips, "I want to be clear. This isn't just—"

I rise on tiptoes and press my mouth to his, silencing whatever careful disclaimer he was about to offer. I don't need words right now. I need the solid warmth of his body against mine, the reality of him after hours of pretending and then not pretending.

He responds instantly, backing me against the brewery door with enough force to knock a small gasp from my lungs.

One hand cups my jaw, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, while the other splays across my lower back, fingers pressing into the curve just above my ass.

The wood is cool and solid behind me, a stark contrast to the heat of Tucker's body pinning me in place.

His tongue slides against mine, tasting of beer, and I whimper into his mouth.

My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly to angle his head just how I want it.

He groans in response, the sound vibrating against my lips, and rocks his hips forward.

Even through layers of clothing, I can feel him hardening against my stomach.

Tucker fumbles in his pocket for keys, his breath hot against my neck as he curses softly when they slip from his fingers and clatter to the ground.

We both laugh, breathless and almost giddy with anticipation.

When he straightens after retrieving them, I catch his tie and tug him back against me, unwilling to break contact even for a moment.

"You're making this very difficult," he growls against my ear, teeth grazing the sensitive lobe as he blindly tries to fit the key in the lock.

"Good," I whisper, working my thigh between his legs, feeling the hard bulge of him through his pants. I press open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat, tasting salt. His skin is warm, his pulse hammering beneath my lips.

The lock finally gives with a click, and we stumble inside, tangled in each other. The brewery is dark except for security lights casting everything in blue shadows.

His hands find the hem of my dress, bunching the fabric as he slides calloused palms up the backs of my thighs. I fumble with his shirt buttons, growling in frustration when they refuse to cooperate.

"Let me," he murmurs, his own fingers making quick work of the top three buttons before abandoning the task to return to my body.

I slide my hands inside his partially open shirt, finally encountering the hot, firm expanse of his chest. His skin is smooth over taut muscle, a dusting of hair tickling my palms. I drag my nails lightly down his pecs.

"Upstairs," he says, voice rough with need. "My place is upstairs."

We move toward the wooden staircase at the back, shedding clothing like breadcrumbs. His jacket falls to the floor with a soft thump. I loosen his tie, letting it slither to the ground. My shoes are kicked off somewhere between the door and the first step.

We make it halfway up the stairs before Tucker spins me around, pressing me against the railing. The wood digs into my back, but I barely notice as his mouth descends to my throat, sucking hard enough that I know there will be marks tomorrow.

His hand slides up my inner thigh with agonizing slowness, his fingertips leaving trails of fire on my skin. When he reaches the edge of my underwear, he pauses.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his breath hot against my ear, voice tight with restraint.

"God, yes," I breathe, widening my stance on the stair, inviting him in.

His fingers push the damp lace aside, and I gasp at the first direct contact. He groans against my neck when he discovers how wet I already am, his middle finger sliding easily through slick folds.

I can only whimper as he finally pushes that finger inside, curling it forward in a way that makes my hips buck. His thumb finds my clit, applying just the right pressure to make my legs tremble.

While his hand works between my thighs, his other tugs down the top of my dress and my bra cup, exposing my breast to the cool air.

My nipple hardens instantly, and Tucker makes a sound of appreciation before lowering his head to take it in his mouth.

The wet heat of his tongue combined with the movement of his finger has me clutching his shoulders, nails digging through his shirt.

"Tucker," I gasp, feeling pressure building low in my belly, "I need—I need—"

Before I can finish speaking, he's turning me to face him, lifting me easily so I can wrap my legs around his waist. The hard length of him presses insistently against my core through his pants, and I roll my hips, seeking more friction. The movement draws groans from both of us.

We pause every few stairs to kiss and grind against each other. By the time we reach the top, my underwear is somewhere on the staircase and Tucker's shirt hangs completely open. I run my hands over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath my palm.

His loft is unexpectedly charming , but I barely register these details before Tucker is walking me backward toward a navy couch.

"Wait," I say, a flash of self-consciousness hitting me as he sets me down. My dress is rumpled around my waist, one breast still exposed. "The lights—"

"Stay on," he finishes, standing over me with eyes gone dark with desire. "I want to see you. All of you."

The raw hunger in his gaze melts my hesitation. I reach for the zipper of my dress, but Tucker gently moves my hands away.

"Let me," he says, kneeling before me.

He slides my dress up inch by tantalizing inch, his knuckles brushing my skin as he goes. When he lifts it over my head, I'm left in just my bra, feeling exposed but empowered by the reverence in his expression.

His thumbs trace circles on my inner thighs, moving higher with each pass but never quite where I need him.

I reach for him, unbuttoning the last of his shirt and pushing it from his broad shoulders.

His chest is even more magnificent fully revealed – muscled but not overly so, with a dusting of dark hair that narrows to a trail disappearing beneath his waistband.

I follow it with my fingers, then my lips, feeling the muscles of his abdomen jump when I press a kiss just above his belt.

I hold his gaze as I unbuckle his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a whisper that feels obscene in the quiet loft. His breath catches audibly as I lower his zipper tooth by tooth, my knuckles deliberately grazing the hardness beneath.

"Amber," he groans, the sound making my core clench with renewed desire.

I hook my fingers in his waistband, tugging down his pants and boxers in one motion. He kicks them aside, standing naked and unashamed before me. My eyes widen appreciatively. He's gorgeous everywhere, thick and hard, curving slightly upward.

Without breaking eye contact, I lean forward and lick it away, savoring his sharp hiss of pleasure. His hand tangles in my hair, not pushing, just connecting as I take him deeper into my mouth. The taste of him is salty and masculine, his skin hot velvet over steel.

"Fuck," he breathes, his other hand cupping my cheek, thumb tracing the stretch of my lips around him. "Your mouth feels incredible."

I take him as deep as I can, hollowing my cheeks on the upstroke, using my hand where my mouth can't reach. His hips begin to move in small, restrained thrusts, careful not to push too far. The control he's exerting is evident in the tension of his thighs beneath my free hand.

Just when his breathing becomes ragged, he gently pulls me away. "Not like this," he says, voice rough. "Not the first time."

He pulls me to my feet, deftly unhooking my bra and letting it fall away.

His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they're tight peaks.

He lowers his head, taking one into his mouth, teeth grazing gently while his tongue soothes the sting.

I arch into him, fingers threading through his hair to hold him closer.

"Bed?" I suggest, the word more plea than question.

"Not yet," he murmurs against my skin, dropping to his knees.

He presses open-mouthed kisses down my torso, over the softness of my stomach, to my hipbones. His hands grip the backs of my thighs, urging them apart as he settles between them. The first broad swipe of his tongue has my head falling back, a moan escaping my lips.

He explores me thoroughly, alternating between long, flat strokes and precise flicks that make my legs tremble. When he closes his lips around my clit and sucks gently, I cry out, one hand flying to his shoulder for support, the other tangling in his hair.

"You taste incredible," he murmurs against me, the vibration of his words adding another layer of sensation. "I could do this for hours."

"Please," I whimper, though I'm not sure what I'm begging for.

He seems to know. His tongue circles my entrance before pushing inside, mimicking what his cock will soon do. The intimate invasion makes me gasp. He replaces his tongue with two fingers, curling them forward to find the spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.

"Tucker," I gasp, my thighs beginning to quake. "I'm going to—"

"Let go," he urges, then returns his mouth to my clit, sucking in rhythm with the thrust of his fingers. "I want to feel you come on my tongue."

The combination of his words, his fingers inside me, and his mouth working magic pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me, leaving me trembling and incoherent. Tucker works me through it, easing off only when I push weakly at his shoulder, oversensitive.

He rises, lips glistening, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Bed. Now," he says, lifting me effortlessly.

I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling him hard and hot against my still-pulsing core as he carries me to a platform bed nestled against the exposed brick wall. The sheets are navy, like the couch, and butter-soft against my back as he lays me down.

"Still okay?" he asks, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. I taste myself on his tongue, strangely intimate and arousing.

In answer, I wrap my legs around his hips and guide him to my entrance. We both groan as he pushes slowly inside, stretching me with each inch.

Then he begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with deliberate slowness. Each thrust hits something deep inside that makes my breath catch.

I meet him movement for movement, our bodies finding a perfect rhythm. I wrap my legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Faster," I whisper against his ear, biting gently at the lobe. "Please, Tucker, I need—"

He responds immediately, increasing both pace and force until the headboard knocks rhythmically against the brick wall. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the loft, punctuated by our gasps and moans.

Tucker hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, the new position allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. Each thrust now hits a spot that sends sparks shooting up my spine, building pressure that's almost unbearable.

"Touch yourself," he urges, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to watch you."

I slide my hand between us, finding my clit swollen and sensitive. The first circle of my fingers makes me clench around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. I find a rhythm that complements his thrusts, pushing myself rapidly toward another peak.

"That's it," he encourages, eyes dark and intent on my face. "God, you're beautiful like this. Taking me so well, so perfect."

His words push me closer to the edge. My movements grow erratic as the pressure builds, my inner muscles tightening around him. When release finally crashes through me, it's more intense than before, radiating outward from where we're joined until even my fingertips are tingling.

"Tucker!" I cry, back arching off the bed.

The sight of me coming undone seems to snap his control. His rhythm falters, becomes desperate, his grip on my hip almost bruising as he drives into me with abandon.

With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and groans my name, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes.

For several heartbeats, we stay locked together, sweat-slicked and breathless. Tucker's weight presses me into the mattress, but I welcome it, my arms wrapped around his broad back, unwilling to let him go just yet.

Eventually, he shifts to his side, bringing me with him so we're facing each other, limbs still entangled.

He brushes damp hair from my forehead, his touch unexpectedly tender.

I rest my head over his heart, listening to its gradual slowing, feeling strangely peaceful.

Through the loft's windows, I can see stars scattered across the velvet sky, the distant glow of lanterns along the river path.

The world feels impossibly perfect in this moment.

"What are you thinking?" Tucker asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I consider deflecting with humor, but the vulnerability in his eyes deserves honesty. "I'm thinking that I haven't felt this good – this wanted, this... enough – in a very long time." I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertip. "Maybe ever."

His arms tighten around me. "Good. Because you are enough, Amber. More than enough. You're extraordinary." He tilts my chin up, eyes serious. "And this isn't just physical for me. I need you to know that."

The sincerity in his voice makes my heart swell. "It's not just physical for me either."

His smile is slow and beautiful. "So we're really doing this? No more pretending?"

"No more pretending," I agree, snuggling closer to his warmth.