Salute to the Stud Read online

  Contents

  Dedication

  Part I - Hawaii

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Part II - London

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  A note from the author

  About the Author

  Also by Beth

  Excerpt

  Copyright

  Dedication

  For all my New Year, New Author buddies, I'm glad we got to share the journey.

  And to Lucy with all her words of wisdom, and Leslie for organising us all!

  Part I - Hawaii

  Chapter One

  Would definitely be up for a private yoga session with you ;)

  What the fuck? The text flashed across my screen, but I must have read it wrong before it vanished. I unlocked my phone. A text from an unknown number. A text I had read correctly. A text I had no idea how to respond to. Except my dick did and twitched at the images of a supple, toned man. Telling me what to do. His hands wandering over me, tugging and pushing me into whatever position he wanted me in. Clearly this was purely my imagination as I'd never been to a yoga lesson. My sister had dragged me to a Pilates class years ago, but that had been nothing like the images flashing through my mind.

  The little dots started jumping on my screen, and I held my breath as I waited. It could be just a joke. It could be from a woman. Without a doubt from a wrong number because I had never inquired about a yoga class – private or otherwise – in my life.

  I'll teach you the plow pose and then you can plow me ;)

  Holy shit. Definitely a wrong number. I dropped my phone on the cushion beside me like I'd been burned, and the heat in my cheeks rivalled the midday sun. And January in Hawaii was still hotter than a summer's day in London. I eyed my mobile like it might explode at any moment then sighed. I wouldn't respond. Had no idea how to respond to a text like that.

  Huh, maybe Sam had been right when he'd hurled words like 'boring' and 'unadventurous' at me as he ever so succinctly pointed out it was me, and not him. An unusual twist on the 'it's me not you' speech. Apparently no longer exciting enough to hold my then boyfriend's attention, he'd waltzed out of my life without a backwards glance. Not that I cared. I was better off without him, but that didn't stop the ache in my chest when I was alone at night. Although I'd come to realise that it wasn't so much Sam I missed but having someone special in my life. I wanted a guy to share my life with. I wanted a man to settle down with. If that made me boring, then I didn't care. I was twenty-eight and no longer wanted to be out partying every night.

  At the chime of another text alert, I jumped. I unlocked the screen, anticipation of another text from my mystery yoga teacher sending a thrill through me and making me fumble the keys. It took two attempts, but I finally pulled up the messages app, only to be disappointed at no new texts from the mysterious instructor. Instead, just a reminder from my sister, Lia, we were having drinks in the hotel bar in half an hour. I fired off a quick reply to let her know I hadn't forgotten and then hauled my arse off the couch and into the bathroom. Had to make at least a little effort even if I'd rather spend the night in sweatpants lounging in my room and thinking of ways to respond with a sext of my own.

  STILL EARLY, the bar was quiet and devoid of my sister. Taking a stool at the bar, I perused the bottles of beer lined up on the shelf. On our first night, the bartender had told us the local brewery had a range of beers. For the two weeks I was there I was gonna work my way through them all, and that, for the entire holiday, was about the sum of my ambition. I ordered a Bikini Blonde this time and snapped a photo of the label, making sure I got a bead of condensation running down the bottle too. My Instagram account looked like an off-license with all the pictures of the beers I'd posted, but my followers weren't complaining the usual food pics I posted had been temporarily replaced. The food at the large hotel – served mainly buffet style – didn't inspire arty shots, but I'd booked the place with Sam in mind. He hated small places, said he felt like the staff were watching him. Maybe that should have been a clue about the real him for me. That and his sarcastic quips about my food obsession and not being daring enough to do something about it. But cooking was my escape, my real passion. My dream. If I tried to turn the dream into reality and it failed… Or if becoming a chef took the pleasure out of food, what would I do then? Posting pictures of the food I poured my passion into was good enough for me.

  Twisting around on the stool, I diverted my thoughts to the gorgeous vista through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Palm trees swept gently back and forth across the orange and purple streaked sky. Azure water, lit up from beneath so it sparkled like thousands of sapphires, plunged into a shallow pool. The constant burble of the water over the rocks and the rush of it falling into the pool filtering through the open doors always soothed me. I was distracted from the peaceful scene before me when I spotted a group of people in gym gear out on the manicured lawn, and the sense of calm vanished. I fidgeted on the stool, trying to get a better view as my foot bounced up and down against the floor. A yoga class but no sign of a teacher. My fingers tightened around the bottle of beer. Would the class be led by my mystery yoga instructor? Would I get to see them for the first time?

  "Sorry I'm late, Jasp."

  I started, and beer frothed over the lip of the bottle. Of course, my sister chose that moment to turn up. I quickly wrapped my mouth around the top of the bottle, sucking up the foam before it could spill onto the floor. Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from outside and stood to give Lia a hug. Almost a foot shorter than my lanky six-foot-two, I had to stoop to reach. I may have inherited my dad's height, but we both inherited mum's chestnut hair and brown eyes. The resemblance ended there, Lia most definitely the outgoing, sociable sibling whereas my idea of partying was an evening in front of the telly in my boxers. Especially nowadays. And whereas I was content to keep things to myself until I saw a reason not to Lia had no qualms about oversharing on a regular basis.

  "Hey, sis. You're not, I was early." I pulled out the stool beside me for her and tried for a subtle glance at the yoga class, but all I could see was a row of shorts-clad arses shoved up in the air. Not a bad sight, but I turned my attention back to my sister as she ordered a glass of wine.

  She ran a hand along my jaw, tugging on my trimmed beard. "Aren't you hot with all this on your face?"

  I shrugged. It could get a bit itchy, but I was so used to having a beard not having one would feel weird. "Should we get a table?" When she nodded in agreement, I led her over to one by the windows so I could get a better view – of the waterfall obviously, not the yoga class because that would be pervy.

  "They have a tour tomorrow of the Akaka falls if you fancy it. At the start, there's a bit of a hike, but it's supposed to be worth it."

  "Mm. I don't know. I kinda had a date with a sun lounger and my Kindle, but don't let me stop you." She narrowed her eyes at me and somehow managed to arch just one eyebrow at the same time as her lips twisted up to the right. Uh-oh. Lia'd been giving me that look since we were teenagers and I discovered how easy it was to wind her up. Like a cross between frustration and disbelief we're related.

  "Jasper. You can't spend the whole two weeks on a sun lounger. How often do you get to visit somewhere like Hawaii?"

  I bloody well could and would h
appily prove her wrong. "I can, and I don't know, say, once in a lifetime." The smile on her face dropped at my words, and I reached across the table to clasp her hand. I'd booked the holiday months ago to celebrate mine and Sam's second anniversary. Boy, had I got that wrong, but Lia wasn't to blame, and I had asked her to come with me. "I'm sorry."

  She set her glass down then covered my hand with hers. "No, I'm the one who should be apologising. You're right. You can do whatever you want. A day on a sun lounger sounds fantastic."

  I blew out a deep breath and reminded myself she just wanted to help. "Don't be daft. You go, I'll be fine on my own." Better get used to being alone.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, sending a jolt down my thigh. I downed the rest of the Bikini Blonde – smooth and refreshing as described – and Lia offered to get the next round of drinks. I plumped for a Big Swell IPA, in the mood for something a little more hoppy. Once Lia was safely at the bar I checked the message.

  Yoga class finished. Fancy working up a sweat together?

  I glanced around the room as if the man – what if it's a woman? – would materialise with the text. Didn't matter either way, did it? Frustrated, I shoved the phone back in my pocket as my sister headed towards our table. I noticed a man with a rolled-up mat under one arm enter the bar. Slender and toned, his black hair tied up in a bun on the top of his head exposed the long column of his neck. My gaze dropped to follow the arc of his spine until I stopped at the sight of his arse perfectly showcased in a pair of form-fitting shorts. I swallowed as he disappeared and shifted on the seat as my sister sat down across from me, grateful for the wooden surface concealing the plumping of my obvious interest.

  "Texting anyone interesting?"

  Her words caught my attention, and I narrowed my eyes. The little lift to the corner of her mouth told me she was up to something. I folded my arms across my chest. "Why would you think I was texting someone?"

  Her mouth dropped open and she pressed a hand to her chest in a fairly poor mock-innocent look.

  "Lia."

  She spread her hands. "What? You had your phone out, so I just assumed… Boy, I didn't know it would be such a touchy subject."

  I glared at her as she avoided my gaze, and I had the terrible thought that somehow she was involved with the yoga texting, but…nah. She couldn't be. How could she? "Lia. Have you done something you shouldn't have?"

  She gave me a shaky smile, which didn't help the sinking feeling in my stomach. "The only thing I've done is ordered us some snacks, unless you want to eat in the restaurant?"

  I chewed on the inside of my lip. Maybe I'd overreacted, read too much into her words and the look on her face. I let it go. "Nah. I'm happy here. So what time is your trip tomorrow?"

  "It's early morning, so it's not too hot for the trek up there."

  I tuned out as she carried on chatting about the falls and drifted off inside my head. Daydreams of what my mystery sexter might look like. Daydreams of responding to the sexts even though they're obviously not meant for me – I wondered how they managed to get my number in the first place and who they thought they were sending them to. Daydreams of me being brave and having internet sex, or better still, of being plowed by a stranger. Never in my twenty-eight years had I had sex with a stranger. Sam would say I was far too vanilla to do something so thrilling. But fuck Sam. Well, not literally, I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot barge pole if he came crawling on his knees, begging me to take him back.

  My sister was still yabbering on about the excursion, and I shifted on the chair, trying to push my jeans down a little and give my dick some breathing room because the idea of sex with a stranger, with my sexting stranger, was turning my crank big time.

  "Jasper!"

  Lia waved a hand in front of my face, and I guessed not for the first time, called my name.

  "I said I'm going back to my room. Are you staying down here?"

  I glanced around the bar, which had got considerably busier than when I'd arrived, and the idea of sitting there alone didn't appeal. "Nah, think I'll head up to my room, too." She sighed loudly as I followed her out the bar but refrained from commenting. I knew she wanted me to have fun on this holiday, to get over Sam – preferably by getting under someone else – but that just wasn't me. Or maybe it hadn't been me. Maybe a hookup was just what I needed. Away from real life in London, surrounded by sun, sea, and sand, I should let my hair down, metaphorically speaking. And I quite possibly had someone suitable at the other end of a text.

  Back in my room the digital clock on the bedside table announced in blaring red numbers it was only nine o'clock. I threw myself on the bed and bounced on the mattress then, grabbing the remote from beside the clock, I switched the TV on and scrolled to the movies section and down to thrillers. After flicking through film after film for ten minutes, I switched the TV off and grabbed my mobile to pull up the text thread from my yoga man.

  Would definitely be up for a private yoga session with you ;)

  I'll teach you the plow pose and then you can plow me ;)

  Yoga class finished. Fancy working up a sweat together?

  It might have been wishful thinking on my part, but they read like they were from a man. I closed the text app and googled the plow pose. Up popped the image of a man resting his shoulders on the floor, arse in the air, and his legs folded forward over his head until his toes touched the mat. Holy shit, the guy had to be pretty fucking flexible to do that. I imagined him in that pose, and my cock jerked in response. Imagined him fucking me in that position. Imagined me fucking him in that pose. How ridiculous was it to get turned on by a yoga position? I laughed but unfastened my jeans and wriggled out of them. Grabbing the bottle of lube out of the bedside drawer, I rucked my T-shirt up my chest and dragged off my boxers. Eyes closed, hand coated in lube, I envisioned my own private yoga class. One on one…

  "You're doing so well for your first time, Jasper."

  The instructor's right beside me, I can feel the heat rolling off his body, smell the salty ocean on his bare skin. My arse is stuck up in the air, and his hand rests gently on my back. I can't stop the shudder it causes.

  "Don't arch your back; let your head hang."

  His hand slides down my back and grasps hold of my neck. Fuck, I'm so hard it hurts. Then his hand slides back up and around until he can rub over the hard length tenting my shorts, and I moan. His hand dips below the waistband and wraps around my dick, giving it a gentle tug, his thumb running over the wet tip, spreading pre-come over the head.

  I sucked on my finger, getting it nice and wet, then slipped it behind my balls and teased it over my already clenching hole. The hand on my cock sped up, and I pushed the tip of my finger inside until it was engulfed by my tight heat. Back arched and balls tingling and pulling up, I exploded, coming so fucking hard spurts of jizz splatter up my chest and onto my chin. I drew in a ragged breath as the aftershocks washed over me. Holy fucking hell that was intense. I may have just found a new love for yoga. Laughing, I grabbed my boxers and wiped myself clean.

  Before I could overthink it, I grabbed the phone on the bedside table and dialled.

  "Reception, how can I help?"

  "Hi. I was wondering if you had any yoga classes on tomorrow?"

  Chapter Two

  7 A.M. FAR too bloody early to be up on holiday yet there I stood, half asleep on the beach. At least I thought I was awake; I could have been dreaming. The sky was beginning to lighten as the sun rose, painting the horizon orange. Clouds of white spray fell where the sea broke against the rocky shoreline yet further down quietly crept up the beach towards where I stood. Palm trees swayed on the gentle breeze laced with the briny tang of the ocean, and the rustle of the fronds and the soft splash of the sea the only sounds – total fantasy setting and a world away from the grey, soggy overcrowded streets of London my sis and I had left behind for a whole two weeks.

  The view only got better when the yoga instructor sashayed down the beach to where I waited with se
veral older women. Bare feet. Long, muscular legs clad in stretchy pants that stopped mid-calf. A vest clung to his chest, the definition of his pecs visible and muscled arms naked apart from the tribal-looking tattoo that ran down one of them, his long black, curly hair tied back in a ponytail. I recognised him from the bar the previous night, and I almost swallowed my tongue when he stopped in front of the handful of people waiting for the class. He was fucking gorgeous. Full, pouty, pink lips with a hint of stubble darkening the skin around them. Black eyebrows slashed across his face above eyes so dark they looked black. Not for the first time, it crossed my mind this was a bad idea. I had no clue what I was doing. What if he wasn't my mystery sexter? What if he was? Was I really gonna arrange a hookup with a virtual stranger? My heart thundered at just the idea, but my blood rushed south.

  "Aloha. We have a few new faces this morning."

  He smiled, and it was like the sun breaking free from an overcast London sky – beautiful, and rare in winter.

  "Welcome. If you will unroll your mats, we'll come into the Salutation Position as the sun rises and start the Sun Salutation or Salute to the Sun to relax."

  Salute to the Sun? More like Salute to the Stud. With a shake of my head, I flipped my mat out in front of me and stood in the middle of it. See, I can do this. Our gazes clashed, and I swallowed against the dryness of my mouth. Was he my secret sexter? Jeez, not the time for those thoughts as my dick twitched in my shorts which were far too snug to hide anything.

  Instead, I concentrated on trying to follow his moves. Until he got down on all fours, and then I couldn't stop staring. The flex of his biceps. The corded muscles along his neck as his head dropped back, sending those curls tumbling down to his butt. His back dipped and made his arse tip up. My gaze traced the curve of his arse cheeks and I licked my lips.

  "Coming into Cobra Position. This is a soothing pose for the back and to increase body heat."