Page 8 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

“Neither. He’s my twin.”

Blake’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “You’ve got atwinbrother?”

“Identical.” Knowing I’ve given him enough to be riveted, I steal into a stall and slam the door behind me, turning on the shower.

The damn fool’s right though, I admit to myself as I shrug off the towel and start to lather my body, wincing every time I touch one of my bruises. I dohave a reason for sucking at practice today. It’s the same reason I’ve been dancing on melancholy for the last three months. And even though I haven’t admitted it to any of my buddies, it’s a thought that pretty much never leaves my mind.

The thought ofher.

It's hard to believe only three months have passed. The encounter feels as fresh as if it happened last week, or even yesterday. Though our interaction was brief, its impact lingers, undoubtedly because it's the most exhilarating experience of my adult life. One moment, I was chuckling at Alex and Reggie's devotion to their wives; the next, a specter from my past landed in my lap, turning my world upside down.

Literally.

The first thing I noticed about her was her hair. Straight, long, and black, it flowed behind her like a sheet of pure velvet. She used to wear it in a bun all the time as a teen, and I always wondered what she would look like with her hair down. It was every bit as alluring as I imagined it would be.

And that wasn’t the only thing that changed. Her figure was more or less the same: slim, trim, elegant, true to her dancer form. Even damn Kali still has the same stature ten years later. But everything else was different. Her breasts, peaking out on both sides of her top. Her hips were filled out, with a curviness I didn’t recognize. And the shimmering quality of that damned skirt, how it clung to her ass, made me hard the moment I touched her.

Charlie was my everything growing up. When she turned me down, it broke me. I packed those feelings away and buried them deep. Staying away from home made it easy to forget.

Then I saw her again, and it all came rushing back. But this time, it wasn't just love. It was something raw, primal. The moment I touched her, I was lost. Desire and anger mixed together, creating a cocktail of emotion I'd never felt before. It scared me how much I wanted her, how easily she got under my skin again.

I groan now, recalling it. Her skin was ivory, the smoothest, most delicate thing I’ve ever touched. It felt familiar and foreign all at once. I wanted to keep my hands on her, but I put it out of my mind. Charlie’s always going to be Charlie.

She’s always going to choose Kali. Not me.

Or so I thought, until she made that comment about notkeeping in touch with him.Andparted her thighs, as if inviting me in.

Touching her felt almost as good as my best fucks. A part of me in her, giving her pleasure, causing her eyes to roll back… I would have continued forever. And then I felt her grinding up against my thigh, clamoring for me to put something bigger in her.

Another groan slips from my lips. My dick is hardening now, shooting bolts of tension to my skull. The events of the night grow a little dimmer after we left the bar, mostly because Charlie made sure the staff sent wine up to my room. But I remember enough. Holding her up against the wall, thrusting into her over and over. Her wonderful tightness, how damn wet she was. Continuing till I lost myself. Getting hard again minutes later, deciding to let her ride me. Hell, I even remember us stealing out of the hotel room—her idea. Don’t know where else we fucked, but I can remember her hand in my pants as we skulked behind the hotel, groping my dick, touching me in all the right places.

I’m fully erect now, the tension between my legs doubling with every second I choose to linger on the memory. My hands find my length, closing around it as my eyelids flutter shut. I focus on her, touching myself to a particularly gratifying recollection, one where I sucked on her pebbled nipples, my chin grazing her breasts as the feel of her caused me to dangle dangerously close to climax…

I let out a last, louder groan as I spill myself. Shuddering with the release, I collapse against the wall, satiated and frustrated all at once.

Been doing that for three whole months, every single timeI shower.

It’s not a fucking wonder that I haven’t been able to focus on the ice.

Minutes later, as I pull on a pair of fresh sweatpants, I let myself dwell on the main reason I’ve been off my game. It’s not the pleasure she gave me that night. Nor the fact that I finally got to have her after having accepted I never would.

It’s that I only remember fragments of the best night I ever lived through. After we went back to the room the second time, I woke up hours later to a pounding headache and an empty bed.

Once more, Charlie fucking disappeared on me, leaving nothing behind. Not even a phone number. Hell, I’d have to call her parents if I want to get in touch with her.

The message was clear. Save for this one night, she still doesn’t want me.

I played it off to my friends, though. Told them about fucking her and ending things right after. None of them is aware of the torment that plagues me every damn night when I touch myself to her image. Or the desire that still burns in me whenever she flashes through my mind. Which is every single second of the day.

I’m no longer in love with her, but she’s managed to get me hooked again. She can’t help it, apparently.

And I’m the idiot that keeps falling into the trap.

The moment I step out of the changing rooms, Blake appears by my side like he was summoned there by magic. He’s also showered and dressed in sweatpants. “You ready to go eat, buddy? Alex’s coming to pick us up. We could get some takeout and hang out at your apartment. Or we can go to the new restaurant that opened up a few weeks ago that everyone’s buzzing about.”

I’m beyond grateful that he’s no longer talking about my brother, but I still don’t want to be stuck with him and Alex for the next hour. I’d rather stew in the torture of Charlieleaving me high and dry than let my friends regale me with stories of their happily married life.

“No, thanks,” I say, as Alex’s SUV rolls up. I take the passenger seat before Blake can, and he boxes me on the arm before he slips into the back seat. “I want some time alone tonight.”

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