Real (Real, #1)(25)

The limo swerves quickly to the side of the road and stops with a jerk. I know Sammy thinks Becks is gonna hurl. Did he really drink that f*cking much? Lightweight.

Becks opens the door beside him and climbs out. “Hey, Wood?”

I’m confused by the amusement in his voice when he’s supposed to be getting sick. “Yeah?” I ask as I angle my head out to look at him, beer in hand, lights from passing cars flashing over his face.

“Feel that?” he says, lifting his face up to the sky. “That’s the f*cking arctic chill right there!”

“What the f*ck are you talking about?” He’s starting to ruin my buzz here so I’m getting pissed.

“Dude, you’re barebacking, we’re taking chicks to Vegas with us, and that has to mean Hell is most definitely freezing over. What in the f*ck is this world coming to?”

I just shake my head at him. “Get in the car, Beckett. If I’m gonna be around a *, it sure as f*ck needs to be one I can get enjoyable use out of … and you, my friend, are being one but hell if I’d enjoy you.”

He slides in the car next to me and just stares at me, a smirk on his mouth and amusement in his eyes.

Me and my f*cking mouth.

“Okay, Sam, we’re good to go!” Becks says with a chuckle, and the car starts to take off.

I open the top of another beer. I think I’m going to need this to deal with him tonight. I’m not f*cking hers. Becks is just out if his damn mind if he thinks I’m a kept man.

I’ll tire of her. I always do. Shit, one woman isn’t going to be able to change my MO. There’s not enough game in the world that can change this player.

We drive for a bit, both of us staring out the window to the world beyond until he finally breaks the silence. “Really?” he asks with a shake of his head, meeting my eyes. And I know what he’s asking. Are you sure? Is she really worth it? Is Rylee really going to Vegas with us?

Is she the real-deal voodoo?

I purse my lips for a second and nod my head. “Damn straight, she is.”





Here is a new chapter from FUELED. Rylee received the extremely ‘romantic’ poems that Colton composed in Nashville, but this scene takes you to how exactly those poems came about. A bit more bromance here, but also the reason behind Colton’s slip the next morning when he casually called Rylee his girlfriend. I hope you enjoy this new piece of the puzzle.



“You know what I think?”

“Huh?” I look over to where Becks is sitting on the chair across from me, but I move too fast and the room spins for a minute before I can focus again.

“I think,” he says, laughing and tilting God knows what number beer we’re on at me, “I think we need to have a moment of silence.”

“Who died?” I’m drunker than I thought. What did I miss? I lift my bottle to my lips and try to figure out what he’s talking about.

“Your single, non-*-whipped self.”

“Bullshit!” I spout through his damn laughter that’s a little too loud right now for my drunk ears.

“Bullshit?” he says as he scoots to the edge of his chair, and I want to tell him not to stand, that he’ll fall on his ass. Then again, he’s f*cking with me and I could use a good laugh at his expense so I refrain. “Were you just not looking at your phone like you wanted to call her and get off?”

I lay my head back and laugh because hell if he’s not right. It’s been five f*cking days since I’ve had her, since she stayed the weekend at my place. Hours occupied with sex that rocked my world and downtime where she challenged me, pushed me, laughed with me. A first for me on so many levels, but the most important one was that I wasn’t freaked the f*ck out about it.

And that never happens.

“It’s called Skype,” I tease, closing my eyes momentarily. No amount of alcohol can f*ck with the perfect image in my head of answering my iPad to find Rylee sitting on her bed, lace and garters and come-f*ck-me-gear on the other end of the picture connection. Manicured fingernails parting pink flesh to show me just what I’m missing. Dirty talk I’d never expect to fall from her lips but perfectly fitting in that telephone-sex rasp of hers.

“Exactly. When have you ever had Skype-sex? You usually snap your fingers in whatever town you’re in and you can pick from the hundred that come running and drop to their knees.” I hear the pop of a bottle top and then another and open my eyes to see him holding a fresh one out to me.

I think for a second as I accept it and f*ck if he’s not right.

“See? I told you. When you brought her to Vegas with us I thought she was just a passing fad. Thought you were testing the waters because you weren’t used to having a challenge and it got a rise out of you. Literally,” he deadpans, drawing a shake of my head. “But, Wood, after the past few weeks, you bailing from work early to go to go-kart tracks and shit … It’s more than obvious that we need to say our parting words and have a moment of silence for your dearly departed dick.”

“Becks—”

“Shh!” he responds? trying to hold his pointer finger to his lips but his depth perception is so off I laugh when he tries several times to get it there despite his dead serious face. “A moment of silence is needed to kiss your unvoodooed ass goodbye.”