Trouble on Tap(4)

By: Avery Flynn

He plunged into her again and again, as if nothing else in the world existed or mattered. Hands touching. Lips tasting. Bodies moving together. He leaned forward, changing the angle and driving deeper inside, rubbing against her most sensitive spots.

The buzzing started in her calves, gaining strength as it traveled up her legs and spread through her flushed body. Swept along by the overwhelming intensity of sensation, she lost herself to the moment and let her body take her where she needed to go.

“Mateo.” She only managed the single word before her orgasm crashed against her, sending shockwaves of pleasure vibrating through her.

Plunging deeper than he had before, he buried himself to the hilt as he cried out his own climax. He collapsed on the bed beside her, pulling her close. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against the smooth expanse of his chest as her breathing slowly came back to normal and the world came back into focus.

When she finally found the energy to open her eyes, he was staring at her with an expression that balanced on the fine line between post-coital awe and something more permanent. He traced his finger across the dramatic rise of her breasts. “God you’re beautiful.”

Her beauty—and the outrageous behavior she got away with because of it—had always been a tool, a weapon, a wall to hide behind. Men looked at her and saw big tits and a perky ass, but there was more to her than jiggly assets and a wild time. There had to be. If anyone would see that, it would be Mateo.

Grabbing on to her courage before she let the opportunity slip away, the words spilled out of her. “I was thinking that after you got back, maybe we could try this out on a more frequent basis—maybe even go out on regular dates.”

His eyes went wide before his gaze skittered away from her. “Olivia…”

An icy wave of disappointment washed over her before a flaming swell of fiery embarrassment threatened to drown her. She’d walked down runways in little more than glittery strings pretending to be a bikini, but she’d never been as exposed as she was right now.

Rolling away from his touch, she sat up and forced her lips to curl into a beguiling half smile that had landed her multiple magazine covers and hidden far more heartbreaks. “Don’t freak out. I’m not talking marriage.”

“We talked about this in the beginning,” he said, his tone soft and too kind. “We agreed to certain boundaries.”

“Things change.” She barely got the words out before emotion pinched her throat shut.

“Not for me.” The gentleness in his voice hurt more than if he’d laughed in her face.

He cared—but not enough.

And she cared too much.

She stood up on shaky legs. “I gotta go.”

Not waiting to see what he’d do—or not do—she rushed into the living room. Her dress lay in a puddle in front of the window. Putting it on took a millionth of the amount of time taking it off had, even with her trembling fingers fumbling the zipper. She hustled to the elevator door and punched the down button. Then pressed it again. And again. And again.

“You need this,” Mateo said from behind her as he slipped his room key into the slot above the button. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I never meant to give you the wrong impression. I’m just an asshole Marine who lives on adrenaline and MREs. I’m not the kind of guy people like you should depend on.”

The elevator doors opened and she hurried inside.

“We had fun, Mateo. Let’s leave it at that and pretend the rest never happened.” Raising her chin, she inhaled a trembling breath as the doors began to close. “Stay safe during your deployment.”

He opened his mouth but the elevator doors closed, cutting off whatever he was going to say.

Olivia sank back against the wall and fought against the tears she refused to shed. She should have known better than to fall for a pretty boy like Mateo Garcia.

She hadn’t cried this morning when her modeling agent told her she’d walked her last runway because the trend was for slimmer, less-curvy models. She hadn’t cried growing up when practically everyone in her hometown of Salvation had treated her and her family like dirt. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to cry now—no matter how much she wanted to.

So she would start her new post-modeling life without the man she loved. She could deal with that. She clamped her jaw tight to stop her chin from trembling and sniffled back the threatening tears. It didn’t matter. She’d find the place in the world where she belonged all on her own. No one knew better than a Sweet from Salvation that life rarely gave you what you wanted. You had to fight for it.

Chapter Two


Tucking Handsome into her red-and-white polka dot trench coat to protect the overweight three-legged cat from the spring downpour, Olivia Sweet pushed open the door of her bright-yellow Fiat and stepped out onto uncertain terrain. A flash of lighting illuminated the soggy night, followed by a boom that rattled her teeth and scared the bejesus out of the mangy cat, if the claws suddenly embedded like tiny daggers in her boob were anything to go by.

“He empties the bank accounts and the apartment but leaves you. What a prince of a douchebag ex-boyfriend.” She pried Handsome’s razor-sharp claws out of the very flesh that used to pay her bills.

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