Page 43 of When We Are Falling

“Yes,” replies the woman. “As long as your pet is housebroken.”

“Great! Do you have any rooms available?”

The woman huffs, adjusting her glasses and giving us a once-over. “Do you have a booking?” she mutters, shuffling through a stack of papers on the counter. “We don’t usually take walk-ins.”

Blake’s smile doesn’t falter. “We were just so taken by the charm of this place. We couldn’t resist trying our luck.”

The woman squints at Blake, then turns her scrutiny to me. “Where’s your luggage?”

“We left it in the car,” I say quickly. “Didn’t want to bring it in until we knew you had a room available.”

She sniffs, clearly not buying it. “Hmm. Fine. I suppose I can look. I might be able to find something for you.” She taps away at her computer, her frown deepening. “We have one room left. Names?”

“I’m Ruth Butternut, and this is my new husband, Jonny Butternut. We’re on our honeymoon. And we’re not picky. We just want to enjoy our first night as a married couple.”

I blink, not sure I heard her right. Married? Did she just say we’re married? I glance at Blake, but she committed to selling the story.

Normally, that kind of talk would send me running for the hills. I’ve had more than a few girls drop not-so-subtle hints about getting serious, and every time, it’s made me want tobail. But with Blake, it’s different. Even though it’s just a joke, it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I kind of like it. There’s something about her that makes everything feel… right.

The old lady grumbles under her breath, but her expression softens. “Alright. That’s booked in. Seeing as it’s your honeymoon, you can have breakfast on us tomorrow.”

Blake squeezes my hand, and I can’t help but grin. “Thank you so much.” An arm around Blake’s waist. “We really appreciate it.”

The woman hands us the key with a begrudging nod. “Enjoy your stay. Breakfast is at eight sharp. Don’t be late.”

Blake thanks her again, and we get Bandit and head upstairs, barely containing our laughter until we’re out of earshot. The room is great, with a four-poster bed draped in sheer white curtains and a balcony overlooking the ocean. Blake flops onto the bed, while I let Bandit out onto the balcony. He finds a sunny corner and settles in with a content expression as he watches the waves in the distance.

Blake stretches out on the bed. “Not bad for a fake honeymoon, huh?”

I sit beside her. “Not bad at all. You sure know how to plan an adventure.”

She props herself up on her elbows, looking at me with those green eyes, and leans in with a conspiratorial whisper. “The secret is not planning anything at all.”

I put a serious expression on my face. “So, we’re married now, are we? And here I was thinking you didn’t want a relationship.”

Blake blushes. “Well, I figured we might as well start with the honeymoon and work our way backward.”

I lean in closer. “Is that how it works? Seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

Her cheeks are still tinged with a hint of pink. “Hey, go big or go home, right?”

“Guess so. But I have to admit, you caught me off guard. Didn’t think you’d want to tie the knot so soon. I like you, but I’m just not ready, sorry, babe.”

Blake rolls her eyes, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Relax, Jonny Butternut, it was just a joke.”

I love seeing her squirm, but I can’t hold back my laugh. “I’m only kidding. This is officially the best fake honeymoon ever.”

She relaxes back onto the bed. “Glad you approve.”

I brush a strand of hair from her face, my voice graveling. “You really are so beautiful, Ruth Butternut.”

Our lips meet in a kiss that feels like it could go on forever, my tongue seeking hers as my hands roam over her body, desperate to feel every inch of her soft, warm skin.

She moans into my mouth as my fingers find her breasts, teasing her nipples through the thin fabric of her tank top and bra. They harden under my touch; a growl in response, the primal need to claim her taking over.

I begin tugging at her tank top, desperate to get it off and feel her bare skin against mine. She pulls away long enough to let me pull it over her head, and then we’re kissing again, more frantically now, as I explore her body with my hands.

I slide one hand down her stomach, the muscles clenching under my touch. Heat radiates from her core, and I need to touch her, to be inside her. My hand works a button loose and then unzips her cutoff jeans, before slipping inside, teasing her with feather-light touches as I work my way closer and closer to her center.

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