Just My Luck (The Kings)
Chapter 17

I could smell her perfume before I even opened my eyes. Hints of warm spice and subtle sweetness flooded my system and sent a throb of heat straight to my cock. Slowly waking to her scent was like being buried under a pile of blankets on a frigid winter’s day and never wanting to leave.

I hiked my knees up, curling my body possessively around her and tucking my arm against her belly. My body tingled as her ass pressed against the thick shaft of my morning wood.

My eyes popped open.

Fuuuuuuck.

I couldn’t believe it—sometime in the middle of the night, we’d fused together, and now I was cuddling my fake wife the morning after our sham of a honeymoon. My dick twitched against the perfect curve of her ass, and I bit back a groan.

There was no way she wasn’t going to notice that.

I stilled, assessing whether Sloane was awake.

Her breathing was slow and even. The gentle rise and fall of my arm against her body told me I might be able to sneak away without her noticing the raging hard-on that forgot the whole this isn’t real part of our arrangement.

I slowly lifted my head. Her dark lashes swooped low on her cheeks. Sloane looked peaceful. Happy.

Something pinched between my ribs at how perfectly she seemed to fit, wrapped in my arms. I adjusted myself, shifting my hips back and inching away from her, but not before indulging in one last hit of the smell of her hair.

Stop being a fucking creep, dude.

I rolled to my back and exhaled. Sunlight streamed through the window on the far wall, peeking through the animal hide curtains. A smile cracked against my cheek and I stretched, wiggling my toes and willing my cock to calm the hell down.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten laid, and even if I did, I’d bet nothing would compare to being buried to the hilt in Sloane. My body hummed for her and my fingers twitched, eager to reach out and feel the softness of her skin.

Instead, I sat up and swung my legs off the side of the bed. As I stirred, Sloane groaned and rolled over. I reached for a shirt, but over my shoulder, I didn’t miss the way her eyes went wide as she took in my bare back.

Fuck it.

Instead of covering up, I stood, not caring about my still-hard cock as I sauntered toward the bathroom. If I had to deal with the torture of being this close to her and not being able to do a damn thing about it, then so could she.

I felt her eyes on me the entire walk to the bathroom. By the time I finished, Sloane was up and dressed.

Her eyes were bright, and her smile pierced my heart. “Morning.”

“Good morning. Ready to head out?” I asked.

She held up her toothbrush. “Just going to freshen up and I’ll be all set.”

I nodded, hating that the time in our little caveman bubble was so short. My eyes landed on the loincloth draped over a chair. In another life I’d toss Sloane over my shoulder and take her—leave her begging for more.

I gestured weakly around the Caveman Suite. “Was it worth it?”

“What do you mean?” Sloane swung her legs over the side of the bed and brought a glass of water to her lips.

I frowned. “Bug told me that you told Sylvie that you were really excited for a night away. That’s why I agreed to come.”

Sloane nearly choked on her drink as she sputtered and coughed. “Oh, wow.” Her eyes went wide as she studied my face. “I mean, I am . . . glad. I had fun.”

Fun.

The word rolled around in my head as I scraped a hand down my face. The pretend honeymoon was a mistake. Every time we entertained the idea that our marriage was more than just a smart business move, it became harder and harder to remind myself that our arrangement had an expiration date.

We couldn’t go on faking this forever . . . especially when certain parts of me weren’t getting the hint that she was totally off limits.

I nodded, letting the conversation die between us. Without waiting for a response, I grabbed our bags and loaded up the truck.

A few minutes later, Sloane’s voice carried through the lobby as she gushed over how amazing our stay was, how cozy the fire was, and how we couldn’t wait to return. Gladys was thrilled at the prospect of repeat guests and slipped her a card to remember our stay by.

Like we could ever forget the Caveman Suite.

Outside, I leaned against my truck and waited for her to give one last hug to Gladys before saying goodbye.

I stared at my hand as I spun the silver band around my finger. I’d gotten used to its weight, but every time it caught my eye, I got keyed up and didn’t know why.

When she was ready, I opened the truck door for her and tried not to stare at her ass as she climbed in.

I sat behind the wheel and stared out the windshield before starting the truck.

“Want me to drive?” she asked.

I glanced at her but shook my head. “No, I’m good.”

Really fucking good.

The trip home was spent in companionable silence. I watched the road while Sloane fiddled with the radio and rambled on and on about whatever song happened to be playing. By the time we hit my driveway, unused energy was rattling my bones.

My thumb drummed a beat against the steering wheel. “I was thinking . . . maybe I’ll make some chocolate chip cookies or something for the kids.”

I parked and slicked a hand down my thigh.

Her eyes narrowed in my direction. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” I scoffed, avoiding the assessment of her striking hazel eyes. My knee bounced.

Her pointer finger made an accusatory swirl in my direction. “You’re stress baking—or planning to.”

My jaw flexed. “I’m not.” Of course I was. “I just wanted to do something nice for the kids.”

Her lips pursed as if she didn’t believe me. “Well, let’s try something new. What is something that makes you feel better? Something that’s just for you?”

I thought for a moment, unsure if anyone had ever asked me what I needed. “Baking.”

Her playful eyes rolled. “Besides baking.”

I peered out the windshield and felt the sting of a bright summer sun. “Gardening sometimes helps when I’m . . . I don’t know—worked up.”

Her eyes flashed with delight. “I love to garden!” She popped open the passenger-side door. “Let’s do it!” Before I could stop her, she was out of the car and hustling toward the house. “I’m going to change. I’ll meet you out there!”

I smiled, shaking my head and wondering how the hell someone with such a happy disposition had hitched themselves to me.

I stared down at the ring on my left hand. It was strange to feel as though something that had never been there before somehow felt perfectly right.

Instead of stewing over it, I rounded the house and pulled out a bucket of hand tools from the garden shed, along with a baseball cap. The gloves would be far too big on Sloane, but at least her hands would be protected. I dropped the bucket beside one of the raised garden beds and looked over the thriving herbs and vegetables.

Moments later, the back doors opened and Sloane bounded down the steps. From the shadow of my ball cap, I watched as her tits bounced and her long, smooth legs gleamed in the summer sun.

My tongue went thick and my mouth went dry as I followed the line from her ankle all the way to where her cutoff denim shorts stopped at her hip.

“Okay, boss. Where do I start?” I had to look away from the sunny smile she shot my way.

I handed her my gloves. “Put those on.”

As I suspected, they were comically large, but she did as she was told. I shifted, trying to decide where to even begin. “I need to weed these beds and then check on the hops.” I gestured toward the arch of the cattle panel that had long vines of hops vining up and over the top.

The breeze was gentle and the sun warmed my skin. Sloane wasted no time kneeling in the grass and gently examining the plants. “Anything in between the plants can go, right?”

I nodded. “You got it.”

Seeing Sloane on her knees in front of me was a fresh hell I wasn’t expecting. Instead of staring at her, slack jawed and drooling, I rounded the bed and kneeled across the corner from her. My fingertips brushed across the pepper plants, checking the leaves and making note of the fresh flower buds that were emerging.

“So I recognize the pepper plants. What else is here?” Sloane plucked weeds from beds, but the too-long fingers of my gloves were getting in her way. After only a minute, she ditched them and plopped the discarded gloves beside her.

“This bed has compact plants—mostly hot peppers like jalapeño and Hungarian wax, but also some herbs. Sage, basil, rosemary.” I shrugged. “That kind of thing.”

Sloane plucked a small piece of rosemary and held it to her nose. “Mmm. I love fresh rosemary.” She flicked the stem with her finger. “Kind of smells like you.”

I harrumphed, and she laughed before pointing to another raised garden bed a few feet over. “What’s growing in there?”

I looked and said, “Yarrow, lavender. That pinkish one is heather.” I pointed along a manicured section at the far side of the yard. “Over there are some juniper bushes, and I’ve got some pie pumpkin vines trailing along the edge—the long vines act as a bit of insulation from the summer heat.”

Sloane sat back on her heels and sighed. “Do you have plans for all these ingredients?”

I laughed. “Not really. Random ideas mostly.”

Sloane continued to dig in the dirt beside me. “Tell me some of them.”

I glanced up, heat blooming across my chest as I took in the slight sheen of sweat forming at her hairline. “Share my secrets? Why, so you can steal them?”

Her laugh was quick and bright. “Please. In a matter of days I’ll be half owner of the brewery. I am allowed to know all of your secrets.”

Heat prickled at the base of my skull. “Am I allowed to know yours?”

“My secrets?” She lifted an eyebrow with a sly smile. “Of course not.”

I laughed and turned my hat backward. “Figures.”

Sloane continued to garden with a smile on her face as I watched her from the corner of my eye. A slow, creeping sense of ease washed over my shoulders. Something about digging in the dirt with a gorgeous woman in the summer sun was a balm for my soul. I cleared my throat and decided to offer a small piece of myself to her. “That mint in those containers over there?”

I used my hand spade to point at the large pots between the craggy juniper bushes. “MJ’s name is Julep, but over time it morphed into Mint Julep, and then just settled into MJ. I was thinking up a beer that’s kind of a play on a mint julep cocktail.” I shrugged, listening to how dumb it sounded when I actually admitted it aloud.

Sloane clicked her tongue and swiped a hand across her cheek, leaving behind a small streak of dirt. “Aww . . . that is so sweet. I bet she’ll love it.”

“She doesn’t know,” I quietly admitted.

Sloane’s big hazel eyes blinked up at me. “I won’t ruin the surprise. I promise.”

Without thinking, I reached up and brushed my thumb across the peak of her cheekbone, swiping away the dirt. “You couldn’t ruin anything.”

Sloane swallowed hard but didn’t move away from my touch. My thumb danced across her cheek, and I let my fingertips trail down the side of her neck, where her pulse hummed.

Memories of the kiss we had shared in the district court judge’s office flooded back—the feel of my body wrapped around her in that ridiculous room only hours before.

Sloane’s hand followed mine, wiping away the small patch of dirt that had been on her delicate skin. “Thanks.”

I cleared my throat, desperate to rein in the flurry of emotions I was having.

Sloane’s small laugh tittered between us. “You better be careful, Abel. You keep looking at me like that, and I might forget this whole marriage is supposed to be fake.”

The air around us was hot and sticky. My heart hammered beneath my ribs. “It might not all be fake.”

Color rose in her cheeks. The secluded yard hid us from the rest of the world as I nearly unraveled before her.

“Oh yeah?” she finally asked, barely allowing her eyes to catch on mine. “Which parts?”

I huffed a laugh. Typical Sloane to call me out on it. I swallowed hard and gathered the guts to share yet another secret.

I allowed my eyes to steady on her beautiful face. “The part when I kissed you in the courthouse. I meant every second of that fucking kiss.”

Without hesitation, Sloane reached forward, gripping my shirt in her fist as she yanked. My mouth slammed to hers. Across the corner of the garden bed I stretched to meet her. We both rose to our knees, damning the edge of the garden bed between us. My hand gripped the back of her neck. Her tits pressed against my chest as my lips pressed against her.

She opened for me with a soft moan, and I swiped my tongue across hers. Our kiss was sweet and warm and wet. My cock surged and pressed against the fly of my jeans. Sloane’s hands gripped at my T-shirt as I wound my free hand to her back and pressed her into me.

Her kiss was hot and hungry. Our tongues teased and tasted as they slid over one another. My hand moved from her back to her ass, and I squeezed.

Sloane broke the kiss, leaned back, sat on her heels, and panted. “Holy fuck.”

My eyes darted away, ashamed that I had finally snapped and gone too far. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed and my eyes flew to hers. “Sorry? Well, I’m not.” Her hand brushed across her collarbone as she steadied her breath. “Holy hell that was hot.”

Sloane stood, slightly dazed from our kiss. She looked down at me, still planted on my knees, and plucked my hat from my head before planting it on her own. “I need a lemonade or a shot of whiskey or something. Want one?”

Without waiting for my reply, she sauntered up the back steps and disappeared into the house.