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PROLOGUE

CHRISTMAS EVE

KAMRYN

I stare at my peacefully sleeping sister, willing her to wake up. I’m all jittery. I need her.

I’m twenty-eight years old and today will be the first airplane flight in my life that I will take without Bailey. What’s worse? I’m a nervous flyer. A very nervous flyer. She’s the only person who can soothe me. How am I going to get through this without her? My crutch. My teammate. My best friend. My twin. My soulmate.

Cheetah asked me to come home with him for Christmas. His family lives in Galveston, Texas and we’re supposed to fly there from Philadelphia in a few hours. He has five hundred siblings. Okay, it’s six, but they’re all married with kids, so it feels like five hundred. He’s the black sheep of the family because he’s still single. Apparently, his mother’s mission in life is to see him married. She even has the woman picked out for him. He begged me to come home with him and pretend to be his girlfriend for a few days to get everyone off his back. He even promised me an all-expenses-paid trip to Jamaica afterward as payment for agreeing to accompany him and being his fake girlfriend for five days. I would have done it for him without the promise of Jamaica, but there’s no need for me to tell him that.

Cheetah, everyone’s nickname for superstar, speedy professional baseball player Cruz Gonzales, is a tall, dark, and handsome blue-eyed Latino man. I call him kitten just to fuck with him, but the man is no kitten. I was instantly attracted to him when we met. Both his looks and his larger-than-life personality drew me in. Admittedly, no man has ever made me laugh like he does. After toying with him for a few months, we eventually became casual fuck buddies. That’s all I’m capable of, and he seems good with it.

I’m attracted to both men and women, depending on my mood. What I really like is having the autonomy to do what and who I want, whenever I want. In the handful of weeks since we started our casual encounters, Cheetah hasn’t once tried to rein me in. That’s the kiss of death for my bedmates. I’m wild. Untamable. Anyone who challenges that will be left like yesterday’s news.

I carefully crawl into Bailey’s bed, creepily taking in her familiar, comforting scent. My body immediately relaxes. Her eyes mercifully blink open, and she reaches for my hand. She croaks out, “Stop worrying. You’ll be fine. It’s safe.”

“Safe? There’s nothing safe about being tens of thousands of feet up in the air at the mercy of some random person you’ve never even met. Maybe they were out all night on a bender. What if they were last in their class in pilot school? What if they were absent the day they taught landing? What if they broke up with their significant other the night before? I wouldn’t know because you never get to see the pilot, a stranger, before the flight takes off.”

She gives me a sleepy smile. “I researched the statistics.” She knows I’m a big stats person. “Your odds of crashing in a plane are, like, one in eleven million compared to your odds of getting into a car crash, which is one in five thousand.”

I exhale a long breath. “I know. I get it in theory. I just hate having no control. It’s not like you get into cars with strangers though.”

She gives me an unimpressed look. “You Uber.”

I twist my lips. “Hmm. Valid point.” I squeeze her hand and whisper, “I’ve never done this without you. I…I don’t know if I can do it.”

She pulls me close into her comforting arms. “You can. I briefed Cheetah on how to manage you. He knows what to do.”

“What did you say to him?” I ask accusatorily.

“Nothing for you to worry about, but he’s aware of what he’s getting himself into.”

“What about you? Will you be okay flying without me tomorrow?” She’s flying to Colorado with Tanner Montgomery, a sports agent to all the top athletes. Bailey nannies for his seven-year-old daughter and is now secretly sleeping with Tanner. She won’t give me any real details but has finally admitted it’s happening. They’re heading out west with his daughter and her friend to ski for the holiday week.

“I’ll be fine. I’m only a call away, so don’t freak out.” We’ve never spent an entire week apart in our entire lives. In fact, we’ve never spent more than a night or two apart.

I nod. “I know. We’ll talk every day, right?”

“Of course.”

“Even with the time difference?”

“It’s one hour.”

I sink my head into the pillow. “Ugh. It might as well be a million.”

I hear our front door open and a deep voice yelling out, “It’s time, Kam bam. Get your hot ass up and ready to board the Cheetah kidney-buster.”

I perk up at the simple sound of his voice and purr, “In here, kitten. ”

He walks into Bailey’s bedroom with his trademark enormous grin. “Morning, ladies. Merry almost Christmas. May Santa come long and hard down your chimneys tonight.”

Oh right, it’s Christmas Eve.

I scrunch my face. “That was kind of a boring entrance. Do you have anything better to say? Maybe a holiday poem?”

He toggles his head back and forth in contemplation for a minute. “Hmm. Santa’s suit is red, but the mistletoe is greener. When I think of you, I play with my wiener.”

Bailey giggles and I can’t help but smile. “You’re a modern-day Robert Frost. Thank you.”

He nods in satisfaction. “You’re welcome. By the way, I bumped into the weird ginger across the hallway. He scowled at me. I feel like he might murder me in my sleep one day.”

Bailey shakes her head. “Stop it. Justin is a sweetie, but he’s in love with Kam. She constantly walks around half-naked. He runs out into the hallway every time our door opens. I think he’s hoping to get a look at her.”

I scoff. “Yeah, kitten, be nice to him. The poor guy will probably die a virgin. What’s the difference between a brick and a male ginger?”

Cheetah thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. What?”

I answer, “The brick gets laid.”

He chuckles. “Good one.” He peeks out the bedroom door. “By the way, there’s something boiling on your stove. It looks like it might overflow.”

I pop out of Bailey’s bed. “Oops, I almost forgot about my stew.”

Bailey moans in malcontent. “Ugh. Make sure that’s cleaned up before you go.”

As I approach the door, I notice that Cheetah is clean-shaven. I’ve never seen him this way before. I rub his face. “What’s with this? It’s not very sittable.”

“Sorry. My mother likes it when I shave. I indulge her for the holidays. Look at the bright side. It will be more like sitting on a woman’s face for you.”

“If I wanted to sit on a woman’s face, I would. Half your appeal is the scruff rubbing me in all the right places.”

“What’s the other half?”

“Hmm. Your stamina.” The guy can fuck me for hours.

He winks before I make my way to the kitchen with him hot on my heels. I quickly turn down the dial on the stove.

He approaches me from behind and looks over my shoulder. “Holy shit. Is that a boiling pot full of dildos? And I thought you didn’t cook.”

I turn my head and smile. “Dildo stew is my specialty.”

Bailey walks out of her room with messy hair and in an oversized T-shirt I know isn’t hers. I raise an eyebrow. “Is that Daddy Tanner’s shirt?”

She rolls her eyes and points toward the stove. “Seriously, don’t leave me with a pot full of your nasty dildos. I’m never cleaning that again. I have PTSD from that one time.”

I shake my head. “I just boiled them. They’re not nasty, they’re clean. Sanitized.”

Cheetah continues to stare in bewilderment at the big pot full of seven giant dildos in multiple colors. “Care to explain, Kam bam?”

“I wanted them clean for when you let me peg you as a thank-you for pretending to be your girlfriend this week.”

His eyes widen, and I burst out laughing. “Just kidding, kitten. I only use them on the ladies. At least once a month, I like to sanitize my dildo collection. In case our plane crashes, I wanted to make sure all the dildos were clean. I’m getting my affairs in order.”

Bailey deadpans, “Getting your affairs in order means cleaning your dildos? What about something useful like making amends with Mom?”

My face falls at the mere mention of that woman. “Beverly Hart is no mother to me and never has been. I care more about the silicone in this pot than I do about her.”

Cheetah rubs my arms. Clearly noticing I need a distraction, he asks, “Are you all packed? We should get going soon.”

“Ugh. Are you one of those people who likes to get to airports overly early?”

He nods. “Yes, I am. Let’s tear off the Band-Aid of the undoubtedly long goodbye to your sister and get going.”

Lots of crying and two hours later, we’re sitting at our gate. Cheetah looks over at me. “Let’s run through the members of my family again.”

I shrug. “I’ve got it all down. No need.”

“You know the names of my six siblings, their spouses, and their seventeen combined kids?”

“Plus, your aunts and uncles. I told you; once it’s in my brain, it never leaves.”

He crosses his arms in challenge. “Let’s hear it. I’ll settle for just my siblings and their spouses.”

I smile, knowing I’ve got it down perfectly. “You’ve got three older siblings. Luna, Alejandro, and Santiago. Their respective spouses are Armando, Ana, and Gabriela. Your three younger siblings are Ruben, Adriana, and Camila. Their spouses are Lola, Santos, and Fernando. You’re closest with Ruben and dote on Camila ’cause she’s the baby of the family.”

He narrows his eyes. “I never told you that.” He then mumbles, “But it’s true.”

“Told ya so.” I thump my head. “Steel trap. I don’t miss a thing. I even remember you mentioning once that everyone gets along well except for Adriana and Camila.”

He gives me a very impressed look. I’m not sure why people, particularly men, always underestimate my powers of retention. I have a bit of a photographic memory.

I haven’t told him yet that I taught myself Spanish too. I’ll wait until the family doesn’t think I understand what they’re saying before I reveal that tidbit. I’m hoping they talk shit about me and then I can shock them.

He nods. “Well done. You’ve earned playtime.”

“Ooh. What does playtime entail?”

“We’re going to have some fun airdropping weird dick pics to random people nearby and watching for their reactions. The game is identifying who it went to.”

My mouth widens in shock. “What? Is that a thing?”

He nods. “Yes. I do it all the time.”

“Do they know who it comes from? Isn’t your name on your phone?”

“I changed the name on my phone to Bad Ass Motherfucker .”

“Genius.”

We then proceed to spend the next thirty minutes downloading photos of nasty-looking penises and airdropping them to random people around us. We laugh as we both scramble to be the first to find the poor unsuspecting souls. I’m already having a blast. I always do with him.

They eventually call for first class to board the plane, and Cheetah stands. “That’s us.”

“Ooh, fancy. I’ve never sat in first class before.”

“Yep. That’s how I roll. Does it turn you on? I’m more than ready to taxi down your runway.”

I smile. “Only if your tray table is in its upright position.”

“Is it ever not?”

I stand, grab my backpack, and nod in agreement. “Fair point.”

We board the plane and settle into first class. This is usually when the anxiety starts to kick into high gear for me. It’s the takeoff that freaks me out the most. It’s like we’re defying gravity by getting something this heavy to fly into the air like a simple kite.

My heart begins beating faster and faster. I can feel my face redden. A sheen of sweat forms over my skin. I get up to do my regular pacing, but he grabs my arm before I can fully stand. “Relax. Look at the flight attendant. He’s bringing us drinks.”

As if on cue, the flight attendant walks over and delivers two beers and a blanket.

Cheetah spreads the blanket across our laps and nods for me to drink my beer.

I happily take a huge gulp. Several huge gulps. “I can’t believe you get booze in first class. Before the flight even takes off. In a fancy beer mug.”

He winks. “That’s not all you get.”

His hand under the blanket slips into my leggings and then under my panties. I suck in a breath at the surprise intrusion. “Oh shit.” I look around to see if anyone has noticed. They haven’t. “What are you doing?”

He leans over and whispers into my ear. “Just relax. Spread your legs a little bit more.” As soon as I do, his finger slides into me. Deep into me. “An orgasm at takeoff should cure you. I can give you something Bailey can’t.”

I tilt my head back as he begins to establish a rhythm with two fingers now inside me and his palm rubbing against my clit.

I’m gripping the armrest for dear life. My stomach is clenching, and my toes are curling.

Taking deep breaths, I look over at him, into his blue eyes. They normally sparkle with mischief, but right now his heated gaze is so damn erotic. And obvious. I’m definitely the better actor of the two of us. But I can’t deny that I love how into this he is.

He’s slow and methodical in his movements. He’s practically massaging my insides with his expert precision. I can feel my pussy contracting around his fingers .

“You won’t come until I say it’s time. But when I do, come right away.”

Damn it, I love when he gets bossy in bed. I laughed the first time he ordered me to come, thinking he was insane, but my greedy whore body obeys like a well-trained service dog. In fairness, his body obeys my command as well.

I think I feel us moving, but I’m not sure because I’m being finger-fucked in a plane of over three hundred people, and I can’t really focus on anything else around me.

I can both feel and hear how wet I am. This is crazy hot.

His lips brush over my ear. His hot breath gives me shivers as he asks, “Are you ready to let go?”

I can only manage a nod, fearful that anything I say will come out in a loud moan.

“Imagine it’s my sausage in there. Fucking your pink velvet sausage wallet the way you like it.”

I manage to grit out, “But I kind of prefer just the tip of your sausage. You know how strongly I feel that just the tip is such an underrated sex move.”

“Fine, then imagine it’s my sausage link.”

I let out a laugh, but he bites my earlobe, quickly bringing me back into the moment. And then he goes and curls his fingers in the exact spot he’s learned so well. I’m officially a goner.

He commands, “Come. Now.”

I squeeze my eyes shut to try to keep myself from shaking or yelling out as an electric current blissfully runs through my entire body, and I come all over his hand.

I take a few long breaths and blink my eyes open. Immediately looking out the window, I see that we’re in the air. Above the clouds. “Holy shit. You’re a fucking genius. Orgasm therapy. You should patent that shit, Dr. Gonzales.”

He smiles and winks. “Happy to be of service, ma’am. Be sure to tell your sister that I’m now the king of Kam control.”

“Ha! Kam control. As if.”

About four hours and one hand job later, we land in Texas. I text my sister that orgasm therapy will now be my go-to method of overcoming my fear of flying. She texts back that I’ll have to find someone besides her to do it.

We Uber to his parents’ house. It’s more modest than I would have thought, considering the fact that Cheetah makes millions of dollars each year. As if reading my mind, he says, “They won’t let me buy them a nicer home. I’ve offered thousands of times, but they’re proud, and they’ve lived here for over forty years. We settled on me paying off their mortgage so at least they’re debt-free.”

They’re humble. I immediately know I’ll like them.

He carries our bags to the front door. He looks a little uncharacteristically nervous. Maybe it’s because I’m not Latina and we’re faking being in a real relationship. All his siblings married within their ethnicity.

He sets the bags down and has a sheepish look on his face. After pulling something out of his pocket, he grabs my left hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses it. “Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

I smile. “My pleasure. You’re a good guy, kitten. I’d do anything for you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because—”

Before he can finish his sentence, the door begins to open. He hurriedly shoves something onto my ring finger. I look down and notice a giant diamond ring encircling it.

My eyes widen in shock, but he simply throws his arm around me as a woman comes into view.

“Hola, Mamá. Te presento a mi prometida, Kamryn Hart.” Hi Mom. Meet my fiancée, Kamryn Hart.

What. The. Fuck.