Chapter 18
Zach
The roar of the crowd is loud enough to rattle the metal frame of the dunk tank, but all I can hear is Lainey’s laugh. She’s standing off to the side with Jasper, her blue eyes sparkling as she waves a ticket in the air like it’s her golden opportunity.
“I’ve got first shot!” she announces, her voice carrying over the cheers and chatter.
“Feeling lucky, Carrey?” I call back, leaning casually against the tank’s edge. My T-shirt and board shorts are already clinging to my skin, damp from the splash zone of the previous dunk.
“Lucky? No.” Her grin is pure mischief. “But I don’t need luck to hit my target.”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Big talk for someone who missed every shot at the basketball booth earlier.”
The crowd laughs, and Lainey’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t falter. She hands Jasper her bottle of water and steps up to the line.
“She’s got this!” Jasper cheers, punching the air with his little fists.
The operator hands Lainey a red foam ball, and she weighs it in her palm like a seasoned pro.
“Don’t choke, Lainey,” I say, smirking as I brace myself on the dunk tank’s precarious seat.
She narrows her eyes, aiming carefully. The moment stretches, the crowd growing quieter in anticipation. And then she throws.
The ball smacks the target dead center.
The world tips and cold water engulf me. The crowd erupts in laughter and cheers as I resurface, pushing my wet hair back and wiping water from my face.
Lainey’s laughter is the loudest of all. She’s doubled over, clutching her sides as she points at me.
“Bullseye!” she shouts.
“You got lucky,” I call, climbing back up to reset the seat.
“Auntie Lainey, you’re the best!” Jasper says.
“You’re up next, champ,” I say, nodding toward the booth operator.
Jasper’s eyes widen in excitement. He sprints to the line, the foam ball barely fitting in his small hands. His first throw sails wide, and the crowd offers an encouraging “Awww!”
“It’s okay, bud,” I say, grinning. “You’ve got two more.”
Jasper huffs, adjusts his stance, and throws again. The ball clips the edge of the target but doesn’t hit it dead-on.
“You’re so close, Jasper!” Lainey calls, clapping her hands.
“Third time’s the charm,” I say, winking at him.
Jasper squares his shoulders, determination etched on his face. He lets the ball fly—and it smacks the target with a satisfying thud.
“Woo-hoo!” he shouts as I plunge into the tank again, water splashing everywhere.
“Jasper the Champion!” Wyatt bellows from the crowd, laughing so hard he can barely stand upright.
I surface again, shaking water from my face, only to see Wyatt stepping up to the line.
“Oh, no,” I say, mock-glaring at him. “This isn’t fair.”
“Nothing personal, buddy,” Wyatt says, winding up his arm. “This is for science.”
“Science?” I sputter, barely managing to reset my seat before his throw connects.
The dunk tank releases with a jolt, and I go under for the third time, the water now feeling less refreshing and more like revenge.
When I resurface, the operator waves me out, grinning. “Alright, folks! Let’s thank Captain Zach from the LA Knights for being such a good sport!”
As I climb out of the tank, dripping and shivering, the crowd cheers and begins to disperse toward the next attraction. Wyatt and Chloe gather Jasper, who’s still clutching his oversized panda, and head off in search of food.
“That was impressive,” Lainey says, handing me a towel with a smirk.
“Admit it,” I say, rubbing my hair dry. “You’ve never seen anyone handle a dunk tank with that much grace.”
Her eyes trail down my soaked T-shirt, lingering a second too long. “Sure,” she replies, her voice teasing. “Grace isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Checking me out?” I ask, stepping closer, water dripping onto the grass.
She doesn’t even blink, her grin widening. “Just evaluating the competition.”
I lean in, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “You’re not subtle, Lainey. I saw you looking.”
Before she can respond, a high-pitched voice cuts through the moment.
“Zach? Oh my gosh, is that you?”
I turn to see Clarissa, her perfectly styled hair gleaming in the sunlight and a saccharine smile plastered on her face.
“What a coincidence running into you here!” she gushes, stepping closer. Without asking, she grabs the towel from my hands and starts patting my chest dry. “You’re soaked! You should dry off before you catch a cold.”
“I’m fine, Clarissa,” I say, stepping back and taking the towel from her. “I can handle it.”
Her lips purse in what I’m sure is meant to be a pout, but before she can respond, Lainey steps forward.
“Here,” she says, holding out my dry clothes. “I grabbed these from your bag.”
“Thanks,” I say, flashing her a grateful smile.
Clarissa’s eyes flick between us, her expression faltering for the first time. “Well,” she says, her tone forced. “I’ll let you get changed, Zach. I’ll wait here for you here.”
“Will do,” I reply, already turning toward Lainey. “Let’s get out of here.”
Lainey doesn’t hesitate, her pace brisk as we put as much distance between us and Clarissa as possible.
“I can’t believe she showed up,” Lainey mutters as I unlock the door to my place.
“She’s persistent, I’ll give her that,” I say, stepping inside.
The moment the door closes, the atmosphere shifts. The playful tension from earlier crackles into something sharper, more electric.
Before I can even turn around, Lainey’s in my arms, her mouth crushed to mine. This is what I’ve been craving all day—her taste, her touch, the heat between us. I back her up against the door, my hands already reaching for the hem of her shirt.
“Fuck, I want you,” I growl against her lips, yanking her shirt over her head. She’s laughing, her fingers already working on the buttons of my shirt. I tug down her bra straps, kissing the valley between her breasts.
“Shower?” she breathes, her fingers sliding into my hair.
“God, yes.” I kiss her again, hard, then take her hand and lead her toward my bedroom.
The master bath is huge, done up in marble and glass—like the rest of the place, it’s a guy’s idea of luxury.
I turn to her, shedding my shirt and stepping out of my shorts. “Like what you see?”
A slow smile spreads across her face as she undoes her jeans. “Oh, I like,” she says, kicking off her shoes.
I watch her strip for a moment, every move sending a jolt straight to my cock. Then I’m on her, kissing her deeply, my hands roaming everywhere, unable to get enough.
I grab a condom from the drawer, my hands shaking slightly as I roll it on. Lainey’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.
“You like that, huh?” I ask, my voice rough.
“Yeah,” she says, stepping closer. “I like it a lot.”
Before I can stop myself, I’m kissing her again, my hands possessively on her hips. “You know what I like even more?”
“What’s that?” she whispers, her breath hot on my neck.
I guide her hand to my cock, my breath catching as she wraps her fingers around me. “This,” I groan. “When you touch me.”
She strokes me once, twice, her movements slow and deliberate. “Like this?”
“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, nipping at her earlobe. “Let’s get in the shower.”
The warm water cascades over us, turning her skin dewy and sending rivulets down my back. I press her up against the slick tiles, kissing her slowly, thoroughly, my tongue tangling with hers.
She tastes like sin, and I can’t get enough. I break the kiss, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her throat, pausing to suck gently on the sensitive spot just below her ear, earning a moan. I keep going, nipping her shoulder, my hands kneading her ass, and then I’m on my knees in front of her.
I step back to admire the view—Lainey, breathtakingly gorgeous and dripping wet, her skin flushed and her eyes dark with lust.
I know what she wants, and I take my time giving it to her. I kiss the inside of her thighs, slowly inching my way up, dragging my fingertips lightly over her skin, making her tremble.
“Zach, please,” she whispers, her hips arching toward me.
My hands find her hips, holding her steady as I press openmouthed kisses to her inner thighs. Her breath catches, and I blow gently, the water from the shower sending a chill over her skin.
“Torturer,” she accuses, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I look up at her, my eyes glinting, and then I lean in, kissing her clit softly at first and then harder, circling her entrance with my fingers. She shudders, her knees shaking, and I slide a finger inside her, curving it to find her sweet spot.
“God, don’t stop,” she gasps, her hips moving in time with my finger, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. I add another finger, and her walls clench around me, her moans filling the shower.
I kiss and suck at her clit as I work my fingers inside her, feeling her tighten around me. She fists my hair, holding me close as she arches her back, crying out my name and coming apart.
But I’m not done with her yet. I stand and turn her, pressing her against the cool tile as the water streams down her back. I slide my cock into her from behind, groaning at the tightness. She’s so damn wet and ready, her walls massaging my cock as I thrust into her.
“Fuck, baby,” I curse, burying my face in her neck. “You feel so good.”
“Harder, Zach,” she pleads, pushing back against me. “Please, harder.”
I grip her hips, slamming into her as she arches back into me. “You like that, baby?” I growl, biting her shoulder.
“Your cock feels so fucking good,” she says, her voice high and breathy.
“Rub yourself, baby,” I murmur against her skin, my voice low and coaxing. Taking her hands in mine, I guide them down between her legs, pressing her fingers where I want them. “Touch yourself for me.”
I don’t let go right away, moving her hands with mine in slow, deliberate circles. “Just like that,” I whisper, my breath warm against her ear. A soft moan escapes her lips.
Satisfied with the rhythm she’s found, I slide my hands back to her hips, gripping them firmly. Her movements shift instinctively, her hips rocking with mine, matching my rhythm.
The heat between us builds, each movement pulling her deeper into the moment, her breaths coming faster and more unsteady.
“Harder,” she moans. “Fuck me harder, Zach.”
Her words slam into me, and I give her what she wants, slamming into her, my hips slapping against hers.
“That’s it,” I growl. “Come all over my cock, baby.”
Her fingers move frantically over her clit, and her walls clench around me, her release washing over her in waves. I follow her over the edge, my own release spilling out as I bury my face in her neck, muttering curses against her skin.
For a long moment, we stand there, our hearts pounding, the water still raining down on us, blending with our sweat and mingling with the steam rising around us.
This isn’t just chemistry. It’s gravity—pulling us together in a way that feels inevitable, unstoppable.
We’re supposed to be fake. A temporary arrangement. No feelings, no expectations. Just until after the wedding.
But the way she looks at me, the way her body moves with mine, it feels anything but simple.
And that terrifies me.
Because I know myself. I don’t do deep. I don’t do forever.