Knot so Lucky (The holidates series Book 2)

eleanor

The coffee cup warms my hand as I hold it and stare out the penthouse windows. It’s so wild that Crew lives in a hotel. The perk, though, is that late last night, after much drama, Millie and I had an array of desserts delivered to top off our sleepover.

I lift my coffee, blowing on it before I take a sip, letting the caffeine seep into my system and bring me back to life. Truth is, I was up really late, not just because Millie and I were reliving our middle school sleepover days by bouncing on beds and having dance parties…yes, we did that. But only after I texted my boss, just barely keeping my job. And also called my parents.

That call sucked. Which is why dessert was ordered.

Nothing kills the pang of knowing you disappointed the people you love like chocolate tiramisu. Thankfully, my sister swooped in with a follow-up call to them and saved the day.

It’s all fun and games, kids, until you drunk-marry a stranger.

Speaking of said stranger, Crew left about an hour ago. Apparently, he works out every day, sometimes twice a day. The idea not only sounds terrible, but I’m convinced that it is actually terrible. And I’d said as much when I found him this morning engaged in a live-action thirst trap.

He was using one of those roller things on the ground, gliding back and forth over his thigh. I literally almost dissolved into a puddle.

I was unprepared. My whole body just got all wobbly, knees trying to buckle as I watched him—palms pressed into the ground, his left foot digging into the ground as he rocked forward and back, forward and back…in and out… I shiver, almost spilling my coffee as I relive it again, making me chuckle.

“Jesus.”

But it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It far surpassed any video I’ve ever seen of any guy doing that on TikTok. However, I knew what he was doing, even if it took me a minute to compose myself. And I wasn’t falling for that shit.

Even if I had.

So, when he looked up with that sexy smirk, I wrinkled my forehead and said, “Why are you humping the floor, weirdo?” Then I stepped over him and headed straight for the kitchen.

I’m still smiling at my second victory in two days as Millie’s sleepy voice catches my attention.

“Hey.”

She pads through the room, joining me in the kitchen and taking my coffee from me to sip. Her nose scrunches up.

“This doesn’t have Baileys in it. I thought we were partying today. Where’s Crew?”

I laugh before I walk over to the fridge and open it, pulling out her iced coffee mixed with Baileys and handing it to her.

“He’s at his workout training stuff. And yes, we’re partying, but unless you’re going to cancel your flight today and stay with me, ensuring your thirty-thousand-dollar win, then this girl is partying with mimosas minus the champs.”

She laughs and nods.

“Fair. One-K down, twenty-nine more to go.”

She takes a sip of her coff-tail as her phone buzzes, drawing her eyes down and mine to what she’s doing.

Her head pops up, excitement written on her face.

“Guess what?”

“What?” I answer playfully.

“Turntable Tony is doing his thing down at that club here. The one we were at the other night. I didn’t even know there was a pool outside. But there is, and they do a pool party day club kind of thing. He has bracelets for us.” Her eyes lift to mine. “How do you feel about ending our weekend off with a bang, baby?”

My choices are to stay cooped up in this room, waiting for the husband I never wanted, or to party with my friend for the end of our weekend. Duh.

“I feel like we need to get our bikinis on because it’s party time, bitch.”

An hour later, Millie and I are in a cabana…charged to the room. Stacked with food, water, and bottles…charged to the room. Wearing the cutest red, white, and blue ass-out bikinis we could find…charged to the motherfucking room.

I’ll pay him back, but not before I poke the bear.

Millie lifts her phone, catching me off guard and making me laugh as she takes another picture of us.

“Tag me in that.” I smile, grabbing my drink—cranberry juice with a splash of Sprite and a lime twist—before holding it in the air and yelling, “Happy Fourth of July weekend.”

People around us cheer, and even Millie’s DJ points at us. Actually, to her. Hmmm.

“I know you had the worst weekend.” She smiles, gulping back some water. “But I kind of had the best weekend ever.”

I laugh because had I not been sanctioned to matrimony hell, I would’ve said the same thing. We cheers anyway before I smirk at her.

“What’s Turntable Tony’s real name? Because it feels like casual isn’t so casual anymore. When we FaceTimed yesterday, you weren’t at our motel… That means you left after I did when I went to the courthouse.”

Millie flings her arm over my shoulder, completely ignoring me, refusing to answer in a way that makes me one thousand times more curious. All she told me last night was that they had indeed slept together, but my drama took up most of our night, so she was able to stay under the radar.

“I will beat it out of you, Mill Valley. I want all the torrid details.”

She lifts her arms, grinning ear to ear and jumping in place as the beat drops, and everyone in the pool starts creating waves as they jump too.

This sneaky little link.

I’m smiling, laughing, and thoroughly enjoying this moment until my head turns like an obedient dog, as if my name’s been called. Not that I could hear anything over the bone-deep bass taking over my ears. Except maybe I did because my entire body stills.

Oh shit.

Barreling my way is a six-foot-five, shirtless, sweaty, dirt-smeared, angry-as-fuck-looking quarterback flanked by his two sexy besties.

I guess he got the room charges.

The chuckle that escapes is accompanied by gentle taps to any part of Millie I can hit without looking at her, desperately trying to get her attention.

“Ummm, that’s my boob,” she yells humorously.

But I don’t say anything. I just point, then look at her, my eyebrows hitting the top of my forehead. She slaps a hand over her mouth before saying, “Oh shit, the jig is up. Wait, what is he doing?”

I look back to see Crew hasn’t bothered to walk around the pool like a normal human. He’s opted to walk straight through the foot-and-a-half shallow ledge where people are sunning, splitting the crowd as he tromps, shoes and all.

My stomach flips, but I don’t look away as he closes the distance between us, his words as unfriendly as the expression on his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Oh hell no. People in proximity stare at us as they begin to whisper. My hands hit my waist as Millie gives TJ and Nate a small wave, and I narrow my eyes on Crew as I make myself clear.

“Excuse me? You better rephrase, buddy.”

“I’m not your fucking buddy,” he throws back.

So, I snap back as quick. “And you’re not my daddy either, so watch your mouth.”

You’d have to cut the tension with a chainsaw. But I won’t be intimidated…because I’m intimidating. There isn’t a person in the world that needs more than an hour with me to know I’m not available to babysit anyone’s audacity. You have to take that shit home with you.

Crew takes a deep breath, his eyes closing before they’re on me again, but this time, so are his hands as he gently touches my waist, guiding me backward further into the cabana.

Although we’re unseen to the world around us now, he still keeps his voice quiet.

“I have too many messages on my phone from people trying to convince the world that we’re in love, saying you’re making it hard for them to do that. Barrett even sent a fucking messenger to the goddamn field to interrupt my workout.”

What? Wait…what? So this isn’t about the room charges.

I shake my head, trying not to stare at the dirt mark on his jawline. Because then I’ll get lost in how strong and fucking defined it is.

“How am I doing anything to make their job hard?” I push back.

He looks me up and down, his tongue darting over his lips before he says, “Wild Card, you look real single right now.”

Are you fucking kidding?

I spin around, putting my ass on full display, and look over my shoulder, hearing him growl as I restate the ridiculousness of what he just said.

“Single because I’m ass out for the world to see?” I turn back, staring at him expressionless. “I have a feeling you show your ass on a daily basis. So, I’ll take literally over figuratively any day of the week.”

The smirk on his face isn’t friendly; it’s more of a motherfucker kind of look. Still, I don’t stop because nobody gets to tell me what to wear or what I choose to wear means.

“What is this? The 1950s? Does football culture expect me to be a good little wifey? Let’s get one thing straight, Crew Matthews—”

I’m cut off, rant left on pause as his mouth crashes down over mine. Oh fuck. His lips are warm and his tongue intrusive. He’s taking this kiss, not asking for it.

I wish I could say I push him away, especially since I was knee-deep in my feminist manifesto. But I don’t. My palms are already on his chest, pretending like they’re about to push him away, like liars, because all I’m really doing is feeling the speed of his heart under my flesh.

Because Crew’s kissing me like he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. And that feeling is way too goddamn familiar. Our lips glide between each other’s, tongues playing, licking, teasing as our heads tilt faster and faster.

Crew’s rough fingers wind their way through my hair, and I lift to my tiptoes, wanting more, as he cradles my face, stealing more of my breath.

He’s hungry and aggressive, kissing me like he wants me to collapse into a heap, pussy wet, begging for more. And damn, am I close.

But as fast as it started, it ends. He pulls back, fucking breathless, his chest heaving as he stares down at me with those stormy blue eyes. My breath matches his as I blink, lost in a haze as my hands begin to drift from his chest.

Crew licks his already wet lips as he nabs my left wrist, holding it to his chest before he reaches into his pocket. My brows pull together, trying to make sense of what he’s doing before he lifts my wedding ring, the cheap dice one we got married with.

Oh shit, I’d taken it off last night and forgotten it by the sink.

His voice is chock-full of the gravel that makes me feel weak.

“You can wear whatever the fuck you want. But don’t ever fucking forget this again.”

He slides my wedding ring back on my finger and drops my hand.

That’s what he meant by I looked single—no ring.

I blink a few times, still trying to get my bearings, before I chuckle. Because my bad.

“Sorry?” I say insincerely, slightly entertained over how wrong I just got that moment.

Crew shakes his head, letting his eyes peruse my body, even tilting his head to do so.

“That’s not an apology,” he offers, skimming his finger just under the stringed knot on my hip.

I’m dizzy, head swimming.

First off, he’s touching me. And I can’t think straight when that happens.

Second, he’s touching me…and all I’ve thought about since yesterday has been about not letting him touch me. Which, in a way, is still about him fucking touching me.

Crew’s lips part as I stare at them. And without a doubt, I know that any apology he’d accept would only be in the form of my pussy. Never happening.

“What is an apology, then?”

He huffs a laugh as he raises his hand and skims his thumb over my bottom lip while he speaks.

“You don’t think before you speak like you’re allergic to tact. Has anyone ever told you that?”

I nip at his finger, watching him almost smile before pulling back his hand.

“Are you going to answer my question or stand here and insult me?”

Crew growls before bending down and lifting me at the waist so that I’m standing on the couch in the cabana, bringing us almost eye to eye.

“That’s better. If you’re gonna act tall, you might as well be it too.”

I chuckle, a grin peeking out and not going away as he continues.

“And for the record, an apology comes without a question mark…but I’m not looking for one. I like that you speak your mind without apology. I like it so much that it makes my dick hard as fuck.”

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. My face shoots down, eyes locking on the impression of his cock through his shorts.

Oh.

I want to reach out and rub my hand over it. Feel it jerk, wanting me to relieve it. I’m thinking about it so much so that my fingers twitch.

Crew lifts my eyes back to his.

“Now that we’re on the same page, let me be frank. I’d planned to make you wild. To make you come to me. But I’m just gonna put it out on the table for you.”

His fingers curl around the nape of my neck, anchoring me to him.

“I want you upstairs, on the island, legs spread with my tongue fucking that tight pussy. I want you to come until you’re squirting and sliding all over the goddamn marble like the dirty little slut you are. And when you’re done, I want you sitting on my face so we can do it all over again.”

Holy. Fuck.

My heart has stopped beating…but I can still feel my pulse. It’s just a little further south.

I swallow, trying to remember why I’m supposed to say no. There was a reason…what was the reason? Money…that was it.

But you know what? People are too greedy nowadays…they invest in too much materialism. Money shouldn’t be a factor in people’s lives, especially and specifically, say, like, thirty thousand dollars. That’s a dumb amount. Nobody cares about that much.

“Tell me you want that.”

Five little words and I can’t speak. I’m too stunned, but I can feel my head nod.

Crew keeps his eyes on me as he yells over his shoulder to the boys.

“Fellas, make sure Millie makes it to the airport. Her shit’s already at the valet.”

My mouth pops open as I rush my words out.

“I’m not leaving—”

But without skipping a beat, Crew bends down and tosses me right over his shoulder.

“You sure as hell the fuck are,” he growls.

I squeal his name, slapping his perfectly hard ass as he spins around and looks at Millie.

“Say goodbye to your friend.”

She’s laughing, the smile on her face way too big as she points at me.

“Bye, friend, and goodbye, thirty thousand.”

Oh my god. Crew barely waits as I yell back, telling her I love her and to call me when she lands. The moment we hit sunlight, the hordes of people begin to cheer, and some asshole yells out, “Nice ass.”

Crew pauses, and I can feel him looking around before I scream again as he leans sideways, grabbing a pillow off a lounge chair and slapping it over my bare ass.

“Oh my god,” I yell as he traipses back through the water the way he came past people clapping and cheering. “This is so embarrassing.”

I bury my face in his back because I could die. But he doesn’t care. Crew carries me out of the day club, through the fucking hotel, and into the private elevators, making enough of a scene that my other cheeks are bright red.

But the minute the elevator doors close, Crew runs his nose up the side of my leg, inhaling the scent of coconut tanning oil and my sweat before he drops the pillow and bites my ass.

I can’t help it. I suck in a gasp, gushing wetness between my squeezed-together thighs. And as the ding sounds for our floor, Crew pushes his fingers between my legs, tucking just inside the lining of my bikini bottoms and dragging over my arousal before he brings those fingers to his lips and sucks them loudly.

“Fuck yeah. That’s a good fucking girl. Now, let me clean you up.”