Page 87

Something changes in him. It’s the look in his eyes—the one that changes from anxiety to something much warmer. Much hotter .

His arms are around me, and his hands are perched on my ass. He pulls me forward a little until I’m nearly hanging off the desk, and he moves his hands. He takes one finger and hooks it around the seam of my shorts between my legs, and he grabs my panties with the same finger so my pussy is exposed to him. My legs are spread wide already, and they move even wider to accommodate whatever the hell he wants to do.

He leans forward and inhales deeply before he takes his other finger and thrusts it into me.

I hiss out some noise as I lean back, pressing my palms onto the top of the desk as I close my eyes. My wrist stabs with pain, but my focus is on what Travis is doing to me.

He adds his tongue into the mix, first focusing on my clit before pulling his fingers out of me and licking into my hole. He moans at the taste, and the vibration of his hum is nearly enough to send me into another dimension.

His finger moves back, and he moves it in and out of me as his tongue focuses on my clit—licking and sucking and lapping, and the lapping is my favorite as he flattens his tongue then flicks it. My legs start to push together around his head as the pleasure bears down on me, and it’s mere moments later that I’m falling apart on top of his desk.

I fall back, resting on the desk after what he just did to me as he unhooks his finger and slides my clothes back into place. I hear the squeak of his new chair, the telltale sign that he just stood, and then I feel his heat as he moves over me.

He unbuttons my pajama top one slow button at a time, and then he runs his rough hands down my body from my shoulders down to my hips. He doesn’t pause on my breasts, but the feel of those hands on my nipples as they move slowly down my body makes me feel ready again, like I could have another orgasm just from his touch.

He leans down and presses kisses to my collarbone, and then he moves down and sucks one nipple into his mouth while his hand moves to massage my other breast. He trails kisses back up my body until his mouth finds mine, and he thrusts his hips against me.

“Fuck me, Travis,” I murmur into his mouth, and I don’t have to ask twice.

I’ve barely taken a breath by the time he’s pulled my shorts and panties off, tossed them to the ground, and pulled his cock out of his jeans. He shoves it into me, and he braces himself by placing his palms on either side of me while he drives slowly into me. He straightens, and his hands find my thighs. The heat of those rough hands sends a shiver up my spine, and my nipples become even harder peaks that beg for his mouth. As if he can read my mind, he leans forward and sucks on one of them as he continues to thrust into me.

His breathing grows heavy as he edges closer to his climax, and I open my eyes to see him only to find him watching me. The look in his eyes is one of amazement, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.

His eyes are still on mine as he starts to pick up speed, the heavy breaths turning to panting as he thrusts in over and over.

“Fuck, Victoria,” he grunts, and his words are followed by a growl that tell me he’s about to come. The way his face twists in pleasure is enough to send me flying into my second climax, and my legs squeeze around his waist as I give into the pleasure that only he can seem to give me.

This has become so much deeper than just sex, and the way he collapses over me without pulling out when we’re both finished shows me once more how we can have this crazy hot sex, but it’s the intimate moments afterward that mean the most. It’s the quiet afterglow when it feels like our very souls are connecting.

It’s as if we just sealed our promise with sex, but there’s a much, much stronger force at play.

Maybe I just agreed to something pretend, but the feelings behind it all are very real.

And that might just be the scariest part of this whole thing.

What happens at the end of whatever I just agreed to?

He carries me up to bed, and we sleep. I awake to the sound of my alarm and a pounding headache, and I drag my tired, worn out body to the shower. He takes one next, we pack up the rest of our stuff, and then we grab a Lyft to the airport.

The sun is just starting to rise over Las Vegas as we board the plane, and I don’t bother to rub the sleep from my eyes since the goal is to sleep on the plane. Travis takes the window seat, and I nestle into his shoulder as soon as I tighten my seatbelt over my lap. I study the faint shadow of a bruise on my wrist from Owen’s grip last night, and I can’t help but wonder whether I could press charges for what he did to me, too.

God, I hate him.

Travis stares out the window, and as we back away from the gate, I watch as he presses his fingertips to the glass—as if he’s saying goodbye to Harper. I wrap my arms around his and squeeze, and he turns toward me and presses a light kiss to the top of my head. He glances down and freezes.

I didn’t say anything to him about my wrist. It’s fine. It’s a little sore, but I’ll live.

“What’s this?” he asks, lifting my wrist to his lips. He presses a soft kiss there.

“Nothing,” I murmur.

He went to Owen’s house and punched him in the jaw last night. I don’t need to add any fuel to that fire.

“Tell me,” he whispers. His eyes meet mine, and I see the question in them.

“I slapped Owen across the face, and when I went to do it again, he grabbed my wrist.” I downplay it, and I don’t mention the fact that Owen called me a bitch during the exchange.

He grunts a little, and his eyes get a little murky before he turns back to the window.

It doesn’t come up again.

Four and a half hours later, we land in a tropical paradise. The warm, humid air feels nearly suffocating as we deplane and head toward baggage claim, and Travis fumbles with his phone as he tries to call Harper on her iPad.

She doesn’t answer.

“Why didn’t she answer?” he asks. He voice texts Evan. “We landed. Everything okay?”

He texts back a few minutes later, and Travis shows me the message as we’re standing near baggage claim.

Evan: The girls are polishing each other’s nails. Having a blast. A-OK here.

I hook my arm through Travis’s to try to provide some comfort to a dad who’s away from his daughter for more than one night for the first time since she came into his life. “She’ll be okay.”

“But will I be?” he wonders aloud, and I press my lips to his cheek.

“Yeah, you will be, too. I’m sure I can come up with some way to distract you.”

We pull up to the massive resort where my sister is getting married tomorrow, and we check in. We’re given an itinerary of events, and it looks like the rehearsal and dinner are tonight, the wedding events are tomorrow, and that’s it. I suggested a dinner cruise on Sunday at sunset after seeing it in a brochure, and as far as I know, we’re booked to go on it—but it’s not on the official wedding events, so I assume some of the guests are leaving tomorrow and it’s not for everyone.

My parents are hosting a luncheon today, and it looks like we arrived just in time for that.

Travis upgrades us to some penthouse suite, and when we walk into the room, I’m amazed at everything I see—but mostly by the view outside our private balcony. It’s endless ocean forever and ever, and I can see why this place is named Paradise Island.

We head down to the restaurant where the luncheon is, and I spot my mom first. She’s hugging Jake’s parents, who I’ve met a handful of times, and my dad stands right behind her.

And then I see Owen.

A dark bruise shadows his jawline up toward his cheek, and even from here I can tell his bottom lip looks swollen.

Travis did that, and a part of me feels nervous about that.

The other part of me is somehow grateful that the caveman defended me. It’s all very romantic in some twisted way.

We walk toward the group gathered, and as soon as they spot me with Travis, everyone freezes. Do they know?

Did Owen already announce who messed up his jaw?

“You’re here!” my sister squeals, and she runs to me and grabs me into a tight hug. She says hi to Travis with much less enthusiasm, and Jake gives me a hug and Travis a handshake next.

My mom leans in close to my ear. “What happened to Owen?”

“You don’t know?” I murmur back. She shrugs, and I get the feeling she already has a hunch as I say, “Later.”

She nods then gives Travis a warm hug next, and something about the way she hugs him tells me she’s grateful that he acted like a caveman, too—like she knows he did it to defend me. A little relief starts to filter in.

Introductions are made, and it’s a group of fifteen between the families and the small wedding party made up of friends and their significant others, but it’s everyone who will be at the wedding—minus the kids, who are presumably with the nanny Vanessa hired to take care of them.

Jake has an older sister, Jenna, and her husband, Scott, is a huge Vegas Aces fan.

As soon as he sees Travis, he beelines over to us. “Holy shit! You’re Travis Woods!” he booms. “I’m a huge fan.”

And there begins the first level of tormenting my ex-boyfriend: allowing my current boyfriend to brag about his amazing NFL accomplishments.

“So you don’t have a ring?” Owen clarifies after Travis wraps up a story about his time in Cincinnati.

I turn a glare on my ex. “He made it all the way to the NFL, and he’s been in the playoffs.”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t a starter,” Owen says through his clenched jaw—clenched because he can’t open it all the way, not because he’s mad. Or maybe it’s a little of each. Either way, he looks like an idiot. “So it doesn’t really count.”

I’m about to call him an idiot to his face, but Travis’s hand lands on my leg as if he can sense my anger.

“That’s why I’m fighting for my starting position this season,” Travis says. He turns toward Owen. “To make it count.”

Scott finds that admirable, as does everyone else, and conversation turns back to Travis and how amazing he is. My eyes flick over to Owen, who sits sulking basically through the rest of the lunch while everyone here who hasn’t met Travis hammers him with questions about his career.

It feels very much like aside from my sister’s wedding, which is obviously the main event here, that’s how this trip is going to go…and I’m not mad about it.