Free Hitched: A Stepbrother Honeymoon Romance by Michaela Scott

Travis’ legs. He must have known it was coming, though, because before I can reach him, he moves out of the way, trapping my foot between his hard thighs.
    “You’re such an asshole!” I hiss through my teeth, and in response, Travis runs his hands all the way up my thighs again, sending shivers through my flesh.
    “You know, I gotta hand it to you, sis, you’re doing a pretty good job of pretending this whole sunscreen thing is turning you on. You’re a better actress than Mom.”
    His eyes narrow. “Unless, of course…you’re not acting.”
    His hands move back to my hips, gripping them like he wants to pick me up, toss me over his shoulder, and drag me into a cave somewhere. A beach cave.
    And of course, my stupid body pushes back. “Nope, sorry. Just blending in. Like you said.”
    “Are you sure?” Travis asks, eying my squirming hips with a mixture of amusement and ravenous hunger.
    “Of course I’m sure,” I say, a little less convincingly than I’d like.
    “Oh. Okay. So you’re not soaking wet under that tiny little bikini, you’re just pretending.”
    “Yep.”
    “Gotcha. So if I put my hand down there and touched you…you wouldn’t be the slightest bit wet.”
    Travis’ hand lingers at my waist, dangerously close to plunging down into my bikini bottom and finding out what a big fat liar I am. I’m soaked.
    But that’s not important. “Travis, I thought we had an agreement. This is a professional trip, and we weren’t going to do anything inappropriate.”
    Travis looks into my eyes. “Laney, I’m pretty sure appropriate went out the fucking window the second we said ‘I do.’ We tried being friends. And what happened the second we tried to grab a couple of friendly drinks? We woke up half-naked and fucking hitched. Maybe it’s time to try something else.”
    I bite my lip and furrow my brow as the heat between my legs starts to throb, waiting for Travis to slide that hand down and feel how wet I am. And if I don’t say something soon, he might actually do it…
    I shake my head and sit up, pulling my hips away from Travis’ touch. “It’s just too dangerous. This is supposed to be a business trip, remember? And if you’ll excuse me, I’m actually going to try and get something done.”
    I hop out of the pool chair and head inside, but before I make it there, I feel Travis’ cut body brush against my back and his hand on my hip. “Alright, but you had to think about it, didn’t you? Just like you did on the couch. If I were back in Vegas, I’d bet a shitload of money that by the end of this trip, you’re going to change your mind.”
    I can still feel the heat raging between my legs, but I manage to keep walking anyway. “I’m headed to the bowling alley to look for Jason. Don’t wait up.”
    And just like that, I’m walking through the ground floor of the hotel, hoping that the cool air can do something about my overheated body. I round a corner, try to shake the memories of Travis’ touch out of my head, and head towards the bowling alley.
    It’s funny. Thanks to Travis, I’ve got all this sunscreen on my body and I’m not even going to need it.

Chapter 12: Travis
     
    As soon as my front tire hits the ramp, I floor it, launching myself straight up into the open air. Then, as I reach the peak of the jump, I pull my legs up to the saddle until my ass is off the ground and I’m hugging the bike with my knees. From this position, I can do about a million easy tricks in my sleep, but instead, I let go of the handlebars, kick the back of the saddle, and let the bike flip backwards, controlling it with my knees until it turns all the way around and hits the ground.
    Nothing like a no-handed backflip to take my mind off of whatever the fuck that was by the pool this morning.
    I’m so in the zone from the jump that I don’t hear the applause until I ride right up to the guys on the corner of the track: Paul, the founder of the Coconut Classic and a couple of his