Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology (20 page)

"You're an incredible woman, Elissa Matilda Holt," he says, starting with slow, shallow thrusts that feel so good, I dig my fingernails into his back. "I can't believe you're mine."

I close my eyes as his thrusts get stronger. "God, Liam, I can't believe you think my middle name is ... Matilda. You're a terrible ... oh, yes ... fiancée."

He slides his hands into my hair and pulls my head to the side. "What is your middle name, then?"

"It's--" He circles his pelvis, and he hits something inside of me that makes me see stars. "Oh, God ... it's ... May."

He drops his mouth to my neck and nips and sucks where he's already marked me. "Noted, Elissa May. Now, do you want to keep talking, or...?"

"Nope. No talking. Just ... ohhh, fuck."

"You got it."

He puts one hand under my butt to give himself a better angle and proceeds to thrust with the focus and determination of a man on a mission to make his woman come as hard as possible. To my delight, he's not only successful, he's also not the least bit gentle.

Liam, Baby

As I stand on the
dock and stare at what's in front of me, I'm at a loss for words. Liam has surprised me, yet again.

"You're kidding me, right?" I say.

He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, looking smug as hell. "Not kidding. Very much serious."

"This is the yacht you 'commandeered' to get here the night of the storm?"

"Yep."

"So, you didn't steal it as much as took possession of it."

"Well, if you want to split hairs, then, sure. I commissioned it months ago and was going to surprise you with a proper christening before her first voyage. But that plan went out the window when I had to use her to get to you. So, yeah. I picked her up early."

The 'her' he keeps referring to is the most gorgeous luxury yacht I've ever seen. When he said we were taking a boat to the mainland, I expected it to be one of those cheesy tourist charters with cup holders in the seats, not this glistening testament to having too much damn money.

But it isn't the size or opulence that has me gobsmacked. It's the two words that are emblazoned across the bow in fancy, cursive letters:
Elissa May
.

"So, you knew my middle name all along?"

"Of course. What sort of fiancée would I be if I didn't?"

"And you named your boat after me?"

He puts his arm around me and sighs. "Elissa, it's a long maritime tradition for men to name boats after the women they love. Of course I had to scratch Angel's name off it first." He laughs when I elbow him in the ribs.

"You're not funny," I say.

"You know that's not true. I'm hilarious."

He takes my hand and leads me onboard, and I soon discover that the inside of the yacht is even fancier than the outside. It resembles a floating five-star hotel.

"If we ever get sick of the island," Liam says as he nuzzles my neck in one of the six bedrooms, "we can always sail around the coast for a while. Do some fishing. Be naked at sea."

After the tour, he casts off and points us toward the mainland, and it doesn't surprise me that seeing Liam drive several hundred tons of nautical machinery is crazy sexy.

"Where did you learn to drive a boat," I ask suspiciously.

"Dad's brother had a little fishing boat. Used to take Jamie and me out sometimes and give us lessons. It's not hard." He glances over at me. "You wanna try?"

I look out at the expanse of ocean in front of us. Guess there's no danger of crashing into anything. "Sure."

I step up to the big chrome wheel as Liam takes his position behind me.

"Just like driving a car," he whispers and wraps his arms around my waist. "Hands at ten and two, and keep your eye on the speed."

Even though I’ve never driven a car, I get the idea. I grip the wheel and follow his directions, and after a few minutes I relax enough to enjoy myself.

"See?" Liam says, sounding proud. "You're a natural." He points to a panel of brightly lit switches beside me. "Now, press that button."

"Okay."

As soon as I press it, Liam shouts, "Not that one, Liss! Jesus Christ, we're going to die!"

My heart leaps into my throat for a whole three seconds before I realize Liam's shaking with suppressed laughter.

I whip around and slap him on the shoulder. "You asshole! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

He turns me back to the wheel, then wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck. "Yes, but it was a sexy heart attack."

Despite the soothing press of his lips, my heart is still beating out of my chest. "What does that button even do?"

"I have no idea. I know the ignition switch and the speed gauge. That's it. My guess is that most of these panels are just for show."

I lean back against him and smile. "You're an idiot."

He lets me drive until we reach the marina on the mainland before taking over to bring her into dock. Then we take a taxi to a local restaurant Alba and Luis recommended.

Liam looks around nervously as we enter, worried he'll be recognized, but the maître d' and waitstaff don't bat an eyelid.

"See?" I say as he sips a local beer. "Nothing to worry about. Here, you're just some random hipster with a man-bun and a beard."

He glares at me. "I told you what would happen if you continued to call me a hipster, Elissa May, and yet you continue to do it. One might think you're asking to be spanked."

I try not to smile. "One certainly might."

He nods in satisfaction. "Then prepare to be punished when we get home."

Despite looking like he's in control, I don't miss the way he smiles to himself as he stares at me. "I had no idea I was in love with such a freak."

I grab his shirt front and pull him forward. "You fell in love with me
because
I'm a freak. And believe me, the feeling's mutual." I give him a long, deep kiss, and we're so wrapped up in each other, we don't notice the server waiting to deliver our food until he clears his throat.

···

After a delicious lunch of authentic Brazilian food, we make our way to a small shop with red, opaque windows, and if the two of us thought we were kinky before we went inside, we sure as hell didn't when we came out.

"Holy shit," Liam whispers as we walk down the street with our comparatively tame collection of handcuffs, rope ties, and various floggers. "Did you see that thing near the door?"

"Yep."

"What the hell, Liss?" As soon as Liam had spotted the chrome bar and cage, he'd gone white. It was labeled as a
cum-thru urethral plug
, and it was the stuff nightmares were made of. "Men put that thing up their cock? How? And why? And
how
? My dick ran for cover at the sight of it."

"Lucky you're a Dom then. Your penis can remain free of metal devices of any kind."

He nods, but he's still pale. I don't want to laugh at how traumatized he is, but I can't help myself. My big, strong man who doesn't blink at jumping off cliffs or participating in death-defying stunts is brought undone by a device that slides up a guy's pee tube.

Hilarious.

As we head toward where the concert and fireworks are happening, the area becomes more crowded. Street vendors hawk their wares, and kids beg their parents to buy them stuff. Bright, Brazilian music pours from nearly every doorway.

When we reach a broad piazza, there's a whole band there, fronted by a gorgeous group of scantily clad dancers in
mardi gras
costumes.

I turn to check Liam's expression and discover he's watching them with intense interest.

"Big dance fan, are you?" I ask.

He nods with a serious expression. "Their years of training and discipline are clear. They’re athletes. I respect that."

"Also, their boobies shake when they move."

"That, too."

I laugh and tug on his arm. "Come on, big guy. You can buy me a drink."

I drag him to a nearby stall where they're selling something that looks and smells a lot like Sangria.

"Two please," Liam says as he hands over some money.

The woman smiles at him as she takes the cash, but then she does a huge double take. She immediately starts giggling and nudges the woman beside her, who's pouring the drinks.

"
O garanhão
," she whispers to her friend, who promptly spins around to stare at Liam.

The second woman gasps and covers her mouth. "
Sim
!"

Liam drops his head. "I think our anonymity just went out the window."

The women hand over our drinks, and by the time we've walked to the other side of the square, there's a steady murmur of, "
O garanhão
," as we pass.

When we've polished off our drinks, we stop at the front of an upmarket hotel and ditch our empty cups into a trash can. Liam looks around warily. I think he's as surprised as I am we're not being mobbed. Most fans go berserk when they realize who he is. Seems like the Brazilians are content to point and whisper about him from afar.

"I knew being anonymous was too good to last," he says, putting on his sunglasses. "Still, it could be worse."

I look inside the window of the hotel to check out the decor, but it's the reading material on a stand in the lobby bar that catches my eye.

It just got worse.

"Uh ... Liam ..."

"Maybe we should head back," he says. "If the mood changes, we could be in trouble. I feel too exposed here."

He's not wrong about that. "Liam—"

"What does
o garanhão
mean, anyway?"

I take his hand and pull him over to the window. "It means
the stallion
."

He frowns. "Really? That's weird."

"Not when you see what I'm seeing."

I point to the magazine rack where there are various newspapers and magazines in both English and Portuguese, and every single one has a picture of Liam on the front cover, naked. And hard. His erection has been covered by a black rectangle, but the size of it explains why all the headlines are screaming about
O garanhão
.

As soon as Liam registers what he's seeing, he goes whiter than he did over the pee tube. "Ohhhh, shit."

Not-So-Silent Night

"Goddammit." Liam's face goes from
white to red as he stands in the lobby bar and flicks through the pictures in one of the magazines. As angry as he is about seeing himself naked, he's absolutely furious they've also printed pictures of me.

I'm not thrilled about that part, either.

"How the hell did someone get these?" he asks, flipping the pages hard enough to tear them. "No one knew where we were. I kept it a secret for that very reason."

"I hate to say it, but could Luis and Alba have—?"

"No." He shakes his head. "No way. Their references were impeccable. There must have been someone else on the island. A fucking bottom-feeding pap who somehow sniffed us out."

I sink onto the couch beside us, shocked and shattered. I didn't think it could get much worse than when we were photographed kissing in the alley when Liam was still pretending to be engaged to Angel. But wow, was I wrong.

Back then, I was the anonymous other woman. Now, my identity is crystal clear.

Not only are there naked pictures of me, there are several of me
fellating
my well-hung fiancée. They're from an angle that blocks the details of what I'm doing, but anyone with a brain can work out what's going on. They must have been taken the day we were at the lake.

"I saw him," I say, feeling so drained my voice has zero emotion.

Liam sits beside me. "Who? The pap?"

I nod. "Remember when I mentioned seeing someone near the altar? I bet that was him."

"Goddamn fucking parasitic asshole." He crushes the magazine into a ball and throws it into the trash. "Stay here, okay? I have to make some calls."

He stalks over to the other side of the lobby and pulls out his phone.

I'm so preoccupied, I don't even notice the waitress standing beside me until she says, "Something to drink, senhorita?"

I nearly kiss her in gratitude. "God, yes, please."

By the time Liam returns, I'm halfway through a bottle of red wine. He grabs the glass I've filled for him and drains it in three gulps.

"Well, Stacey's on the case. She's going to get as many injunctions as she can, but there's not much we can do. This thing has so much traction, nothing's going to stop these pictures from being plastered all over the internet."

After the whole Anthony Kent debacle, Liam and Angel signed with one of Hollywood's most respected agents, Stacey Savage. She's smart, tough, and has connections everywhere, so if she can't kill the pictures, no one can.

When I refill Liam's glass, he guzzles that one, too. He looks wired.

"I wanted to take you on this trip to avoid crap like this," he says. "Not to drop you in the middle of it with me."

"My parents are going to see those photos," I say, staring at a stain on the carpet. "They'll be so proud."

Liam swears under his breath and rakes his fingers through his hair. "If I ever get my hands on the bastard who did this ..." He's gripping his wine glass so tightly, I'm afraid he'll break it. I pry his fingers loose and put it on the table.

Liam rubs his eyes. "Let's get out of here. We might not be able to outrun this story, but we can sure as hell ignore it. I've organized a security team to sweep the island before we get back. If the bastard who took those photos is still there, they'll find him."

He grabs our shopping bags as I finish my last mouthful of wine and leads me out of the hotel into a cab. Even as we drive away, I can still hear people calling out, "
O garanhão
."

We've only been driving for a few minutes when my phone rings. I know without looking that it's Josh.

"Hey."

"Jesus, Lissa, are you and Liam okay? I can't go on the internet or turn on the TV without seeing way more of your two that I'm comfortable with."