Bad Beats: A Rock-Star Step-Brother Romance (10 page)

One thing he does remarkably well kept me awake for hours.

Because of that exceptional skill, we slept through the ship docking and didn’t get started on our island adventure until an hour ago. That was fine by me. I needed time to recover. He more than lived up to his stage name and turned me into tigress between the sheets.

The recent memories set my face ablaze. I’m glad he’s focused on the road.

Much to my embarrassment, I’d passed out immediately following our first
shagging
session. After multiple orgasms, I was a noodle…a happy and very satisfied noodle, I might add. Shag had awakened something inside me I wasn’t aware existed. He made me feel alive and showed me that I’m a sexual creature who was denied fulfillment for far too long.

I might be a sexual creature, but he’s a beast in bed. I woke up with his face buried between my legs and his mouth busy at work, again. According to him, he tried to let me sleep but couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Me irresistible?

Shag says yes, absolutely.

I think I just might believe him. I want to more than anything.

“Look!” he shouts, pointing ahead.

Up on a hill, overlooking a shallow reef, the Grand Turk Lighthouse towers. Shag slows our four-wheeler to a crawl and we travel up another sandy road to the backside of the structure. A white, picket-like-fence surrounds the lighthouse, and a small park with donkeys grazing and a few tourists comes into view.

Because of Shag’s notoriety and deep pockets, he’s arranged for us to enter the lighthouse. The top level is still off limits, even to him, due to the rusty guard rail and other structural dangers. I could care less. Just spending time with Shag is enough.

I have to keep reminding myself this is a vacation fling. Sex for sex’s sake. Nothing more.

If only I could convince my heart.

I’m not sure if I’m enthralled with Shag because of how he played my body like a well-tuned instrument or how he
is
as a person. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s a combination of both. As arrogant and angry as he can be, there is something gentle and kind hidden beneath his hard exterior, something I want to uncover. I’ve caught enough glimpses of that secret side to grasp that his less admirable qualities don’t fully define him.

We jolt to a stop, putting a halt to my Shag-analysis.

We’re parked about ten feet from the lighthouse, and his face is alight with anticipation. He might be a massive man with tattoos and piercings, but his expression reminds me of a little boy at Disneyland for the first time, yet another glaring reminder Shag Steal isn’t all he appears to be.

“Look at that thing.” He’s at my side of the vehicle, reaching for my hand.

I let him help me out and stand beside him, staring up.

“I’m going to tell you something no one but my mom knows,” he says, voice lowered.

“Go on.” This I have to hear.

“I used to build model lighthouses. I was fascinated by the history surrounding them. This one has some amazing lore.”

His excitement is contagious, and suddenly, I want to know everything there is to know about the weathered white building that overlooks the ocean beyond.

He doesn’t make me wait, launching into a rundown of the lighthouse’s history.

What intrigues me most is the implication that islanders kept the lights dimmed to lure ships into the shallow reef for looting purposes. Salt production and the bounty discovered amongst those crashed ships were big economy boosters long before the cruise industry made its home here.

Shag doesn’t get a chance to finish. We’re interrupted by an official looking man, wearing a dated sports jacket despite the heat. “Mr. Steal?”

“That’s me.” Shag extends a hand.

“Randall Marks at your service.” He takes Shag’s hand and smiles, revealing yellowed teeth. “I have to ask, can I have an autograph for my daughter?”

“What’s her name?” Shag reaches for the pen and scrap of paper Randall offers.

“Stephanie. She’s sixteen. Loves Crude Element.”

He scribbles something unreadable and returns the signed paper, pocketing the pen.

I’m not sure he realizes he just swiped our host’s gold-plated pen, but I don’t intend to bring attention to his thievery.

“Can we go in now?” he asks, his usual impatience making an appearance.

Randall turns toward the building. “This way.” He pulls a key from his pocket.

I can’t help but notice the curious stares that follow our steps. If I was seeing Shag for the first time, I’d share too.
Shoot.
I can’t stop ogling the man as it is. As far as I’m concerned, he’s more interesting than any building, regardless of its past ghosts.

What’s also interesting is the familiar figure I catch sight of, standing back, away from the tourists. Omar. He gives no indication that he sees me, but I assume he’s been keeping an eye on his boss all along. The idea of him watching over us is equal parts comforting and unsettling. I’m not sure how I’d feel shadowed by bodyguards everywhere I went.

“Ready?” Shag asks, following my gaze. “You spotted him. He won’t like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“His job is to protect me without alerting me or my companions to his presence, especially when I’m doing something personal.”

“He’s not in trouble, is he?” I hope my awareness didn’t earn Omar a reprimand. The man hadn’t hesitated to jump between me and my stalker, providing enough time for Shag to intervene and go all caveman.

Shag chuckles. “Omar is the best. He’s not going anywhere or getting in any trouble. Come on. I have more on our agenda after this.” He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me into the building.

Glancing back, I try to imagine living in the lighthouse keeper’s tiny house before everything was modernized. I’m sure who ever lived inside its walls could tell some scandalous, maybe even spooky stories. The whole place has an aura of mystery that gives me chills despite the tropical weather.

“Babe?” Shag prompts. “You okay?”

“Just imagining what it would have been like to live up here, all alone.”

“Are you scared?” He tickles my side.

I swat his hand away. “No! I just have a good imagination. That’s all.”

“I like the sound of that. Use that imagination to come up with a fantasy you want fulfilled. I’ll do my best later to make it a reality.”

Our guide clears his throat. “We only have about thirty minutes…”

Shag cuts him off. “Sorry, man. My girl here has a way of distracting me.”

While Randall and Shag discuss the lighthouse and examine its various features, I do what I always do, over think what’s happening with me and Shag. This is the second time he’s referred to me as ‘his girl.’ The words might mean nothing to him, but to me, they hit deep. Mitch was embarrassed to acknowledge our relationship, making me feel invisible and worthless. Shag, famous rock-star and notorious womanizer, treats me like I’m someone to be admired and respected.

Robin’s statement about Shag pursuing me in a way that Roxie has never witnessed isn’t helping matters. It adds fuel to the fire of false hope.

Why do I even care? What am I expecting?

This is supposed to be a few fun days of spectacular sex to remember with fondness when I think back on our cruise, nothing more. In fact, before the trip, I didn’t even like Shag. I’d prejudged him harshly and would never have considered spending time with him on a personal level.

Bottom Line: becoming obsessed with a famous rock-star was so not on my original agenda.

Speaking of agendas, I’m curious to see what Shag has planned next. He made reference to us doing something else following the lighthouse tour. We don’t need to be back onboard until 4:00pm. That gives us another few hours to enjoy Grand Turk. Tomorrow we’ll arrive in San Juan around one. I’ve always wanted to visit Puerto Rico.

“Cat, check this out!” Shag calls from above.

I look up, following the direction of his voice.

He’s leaning over the winding staircase’s railing. “Why are you still down there?”

Not sure how to answer, I just smile. He raved about my smile, so I figure flashing it will be a good distraction. The last thing I want is to explain my scattered thoughts, all of which revolve around him in one way or another.

“Come on. We can go up to the second level.”

Starting toward him, I automatically inspect the stairs and find they don’t meet my personal safety standards. Taking risks isn’t the way I operate; at least it wasn’t until I met a certain lighthouse-loving rock-star.

I consider Shag’s brief history lesson. He said the building was made from cast iron, but I can see now why they keep tourists out. Age has not been kind to the inside. Yes, it’s still a functioning lighthouse, but everything is done electronically and there’s no keeper climbing the stairs at night to light lamps. The place, simply put, is not people friendly.

Attempting to gather my wits, I take a deep breath and force another smile as I begin my climb up the spiralling staircase. There’s no way I’m letting Shag think I’m a Fraidy Cat not a Cadie Cat. I snicker quietly over my lame attempt at humor, even if it is for my amusement only. Thank God he doesn’t notice or read minds.

When we reach the second floor, Shag motions me to a small window. Together, our cheeks touching, we stare out across the reef. The view is breathtaking, putting an end to anymore silly thoughts.

“Wow, this is amazing,” I repeat what I’m thinking.

Shag’s response is completely unexpected, though it makes sense after what he already shared.

“I want to buy and restore an old lighthouse. It might sound crazy to some people, but I’ve got the money and passion to see the project through. Maybe someday, when life slows down, I’ll finally get around to it. I’d like to live in the place once I’m done, maybe retire there.”

Leaning into him, I take his hand first this time, giving it a squeeze. “I have no doubt you’ll do it. You seem pretty determined to get what you want.”

His response is to bundle me into his arms and kiss me like I’m the missing piece in his personal puzzle. My body reacts, and I press into him, moaning into his mouth.

Throat clearing from behind reminds me we’re not alone. I seem to keep forgetting that

fact.

Shag chuckles. “Let’s get out of here. You ready?”

“Whenever you are. Are you sure you’ve seen everything you wanted to?”

“I see everything I want right in front of me.”

My mouth forms an ‘O’ and he grins. “Yes, that means you, Cadie Cat. Don’t look so surprised. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m kinda into you. Considering I’m your little experiment, we better get to a lab.”

“I wouldn’t say
little
…”

This time he tosses back his head and laughs, making me giggle. I love it when he lets go of his cocky, controlled, rock-star image and cuts loose.

“Hung up on size I see. Naughty mind you have, my dear.”

“I somehow doubt it is anywhere in the same universe as yours.”

“Mr. Steal, over here! Hurry!” The urgency of Randall’s request slams a door on our teasing.

Shag joins him at the opposite window.

“Use these.” Randall produces a pair of binoculars.

“What the hell?” Shag murmurs. “Cadie…you gotta see this.”

I hurry over. He hands over the binoculars.

I’m just in time to see a whale’s tail fin crash against the water, creating a spray of sea foam.

“Humpback?” I ask, remembering my brief, pre-cruise research. “I thought their migration was over?”

“It is,” Randall replies, clearly excited. “That’s what makes this sighting so extraordinary. It’s extremely rare to see a whale here this time of year.”

“And,” Shag picks up where our guide leaves off. “Many cultures believe a whale sighting is a sign of good luck. There are numerous legends that support those beliefs.” His eyes find mine. “I think I have to agree with the legends, because my luck has definitely improved.”

Cadie

“I got rabies shots for biting the head off a bat, but that’s ok—the bat had to get Ozzy shots.”

–Ozzy Ozbourne

“What do you think?” Shag removes his sunglasses and raises a brow before crossing his arms across his chest. 

I meet his gaze, but holding it is no easy task, not with him looking so dashing and dangerous, a lethal combination for certain. It appears I’ve lost my sanity, because here I am mentally undressing him while he’s waiting for my opinion about a private cabana. The mental undressing started the minute we bade the lighthouse goodbye and traded our four-wheeler for a private helicopter that delivered us, in record time, to our current destination.

Nestled in the palm trees, not far from the postcard-perfect ocean, the setting is ideal for another Shag seduction. The crystal waters and white sand beckon, begging for my bare feet, but I’m ready to beg Shag to bare his rugged beauty. Forget the sand and surf. 

“Did you reserve this in advance?” I manage to ask; astounded once again by the way he makes things happen with such ease. Not that I’m complaining…

“When you were taking one of your middle-of-the-night naps, I was making calls. You still haven’t answered my question.”

He’s right. I haven’t.

The reason—the answer to his simple question is far more complicated than it should be.

What
do
I think? Well…

Let’s just say, I have a lot of thoughts, the majority I wouldn’t dare share with the man in front of me. The biggie is the fact I can’t get over how comfortable I feel around him. After a night of passion and only a few in-depth conversations, it seems like I’ve known Shag for years. We fit together. It’s not something I expected or wanted; it just is. I have no clue if he feels the same, and I have no intention of asking.

I’ve always rolled my eyes when it comes to the topic of insta-love, so maybe this is The Universe’s cosmic punishment for my critical attitude about other couples’ happily-ever-afters.

“Since when did my Cadie Cat become speechless?” he taunts, taking a step my direction and making me wish for my very own Happily-Ever-After.

Adding to the whole familiarity theme is the way my nickname sounds coming from him. There’s no ignoring the significance. It took forever to accept Robin and Josh using the substitute, but with Shag, it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I love this place,” I provide a simple answer, giving no indication of my more complicated line of thinking. “How much time do we have here?”

“Enough.” He licks his bottom lip.

The sight of his talented tongue sends a shiver of anticipation straight to my center.

It’s hard to believe that Mitch convinced me I was a dead fish in the sex department. When I’m around Shag, I’m continually aroused and on the verge of ripping my clothes off…his too. By the way his gaze eats me up, it’s no secret he has similar thoughts.

“You mentioned your imagination earlier. Got any creative ideas how we can put this exotic location and ninety minutes to good use?” He takes another step, bringing his toes to mine.

I swallow, more like gulp, at the way my body reacts to his closeness.

Reaching up, I let my palms explore the contours and ridges of his pectoral muscles before moving down to his chiseled abs.  “I’ve always been curious about water sports. Just how private is this bungalow?”

He rips his shirt over his head, baring his tattooed chest. “Very fucking private. Undress now before I carry you into the water with your clothes on.”

His expression tells me he’s not joking.

The idea of returning to the ship in a soaking sundress doesn’t sound appealing, so I follow his example and shed everything that keeps our skin from touching.

I hesitate for the slightest moment, but after the way Shag worshiped my body last night, my confidence has increased enough that stripping to my birthday suit is possible, even in the middle of the day. He accomplished, in one night, what would have taken a therapist years and few thousand from my bank account to achieve.

“Fuck, your gorgeous, Cat,” he praises me, putting another nail in Mitch’s coffin and shoveling another pile of dirt on my ex’s insulting words.

How did I get so lucky?
Considering Shag’s history with women, he should be the cruel one, but instead, he’s like a healing balm, mending my wounds as if he’s some kind of miracle remedy.

I scan his frame, my gaze landing on his massive erection. His top lip curls and he gifts me with a sexy smirk before lifting me into his arms.

“What are you doing?” I squeal.

What if he drops me or strains his back?

He might make me feel like a sultry vixen, but I’m well aware how much I weigh. No compliment, no matter how heartfelt, can change the number on the scale.

“I’m carrying you into that ocean. Is there a problem?” He strides down the sandy path to the surf’s edge, not once faltering.

“Uh, no, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? What are you talking about?” He marches us right into the bluest water I’ve ever seen.

“I’m not skinny,” I blurt the obvious.

“Thank God,” he chuckles. “You’re a woman. The woman I’m going to fuck in the Atlantic Ocean.”

It’s my turn to laugh. Shag Steal has officially won my heart, which means he’s eventually going to break it. I’ll deal with the heartbreak when it happens, because right now, I’m going to shag my rock-star.

* * *

Shag

I stop when the water hits just below my ribcage and let Cadie slide down my body into its soothing warmth. My goal is to protect our lower anatomy from any prying eyes. We’re on private property, but I never underestimate the paparazzi. I trust Omar has things under control, but the last thing I want is my personal moment with Cadie exposed to the world. She would hate that.

I hate that she’s worried her weight will somehow put a burden on me. I want to erase every negative comment her ex ever said to her, once and for all, giving her the freedom she deserves to be who she is without inhibition. The fact she undressed in front of me is a start in the right direction.

“How does the water feel?” I dip my head down and kiss her neck.

“Like a bath.” She responds with a nip to my left nipple, sending a shockwave to my cock.

“Wrap your legs around me and hang on,” I instruct, shifting my hands under her round rump.

She obeys and drapes her arms over my neck, rewarding me with a leisurely kiss filled with promise.

I grip her ass cheeks and bend my knees, driving up and into her tight cunt. She feels like a velvet sheath, and each time I thrust, the water rolls between us, slapping and rocking, enhancing the sensations.

I’m not going to last long. No way. Not with her nipples skating over my chest and her nails digging into my shoulders.

“Fuck. Yes, Shag. Like that,” she whimpers, her hips grinding as she’s propelled closer toward her own release.

“Babe, I’m going to come. Your pussy feels too fucking good.” I fight to hold back, waiting for her.

Thank God I don’t have to wait long. Her walls clamp down around my cock, and her whole body shudders.

The soft keening moans, coming from her parted lips, send me sailing into oblivion. Throwing my head back, I stare heavenward. With the sky painted blue above us; the water churning as our bodies thrash; and Cadie coming undone in my arms—my climax is like a spiritual experience.

Even after I’ve emptied myself inside her, I resist letting her go; and all over again, I’m overwhelmed with unfamiliar emotions that scare me more than I’ll ever admit.

What is this woman doing to me? Is she bewitching me?

It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she pulled out some ancient tome and admitted to casting a love spell.

I hate to think her little experiment will be over in a week, because I have a sneaking suspicion a week of shagging Cadie O’Shea won’t be nearly enough. My plan to fuck her out of my system is backfiring.

Her whole body tenses and she sucks in a breath, putting a stop to my uncertainties.

“Shag, I think someone’s photographing us.”

She untangles herself from my hold and drops neck deep into the water. I’m grateful she had her back to the shoreline, which hopefully was enough to hide her identity.

Shielding my eyes, I search for our uninvited voyeur and find him not far from the cabana, half hidden behind a palm tree. Omar is already approaching him from behind. I have no doubt my security guard will deal with the situation.

I take a few more minutes to scrutinize the area and am relieved to see that other than the one intruder, we’re alone. I have a good idea who the culprit is. I’ll confirm once we embark. Right now I have a frightened woman to console. She’s actually shivering, in spite of the ocean’s tropical temperature.

“Omar’s got him, babe. You weren’t facing him, and the water was deep enough to cover…”

“Just stop, okay? Let me have my moment. Being stalked and photographed might be an everyday occurrence for you, but it’s not for me. I feel violated, Shag. Can you understand?”

“I’m trying to. Come here, please.” I hold out my hand. “Don’t let that asshole steal what just happened between us.”

She gives me a nod and glances at my hand and then back at the cabana. When she’s assured we’re alone, she rises from the water and takes my extended hand.

I’m pleased to see Omar has handled his business, and the fucker is gone.

She lets out a sigh. “It’s not your fault, Shag. I understand its part of fame’s price. I just don’t like that we have to pay it. And you should probably give Omar a raise.”

“Already at the top of my list, babe. Let’s go have a drink and I’ll find out what Omar knows.”

“Okay.”

“How about a piggyback? That way you’ll be behind me.” I turn my back toward her.

She climbs up, and I realize my idea wasn’t the smartest. With her wet pussy pressed against me, my dick stiffens.

Anyone watching would have the celebrity photo of the year. Shag Steal emerging from the ocean; cock hard; a naked woman riding on his back.

I hope like hell LMZ is too busy in LA and New York to find their way to our secluded corner of the island.

If the respectable
Rolling Rock Magazine
is gunning for non-sanctioned photos, and I believe their reporter is indeed the guilty one; then I can only imagine what the less reputable gossip source would do to get their hands on such candid shots.

They’d do and pay just about anything. I need to make sure they have nothing to buy.