RR&R 01 Real
Sarah Hansen
JT Formatting
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Chapter One
-
“I’m Remington.”
Chapter Two
-
Unexpected
Chapter Three
-
To Atlanta
Chapter Four
-
Running
Chapter Five
-
Dancing to the music
Chapter Six
-
Miami is not so hot
Chapter Seven
-
Come away with me
Chapter Eight
-
Austin
Chapter Nine
-
An Adventure
Chapter Ten
-
A visitor
Chapter Eleven
-
Secret meeting
Chapter Twelve
-
Pictures of you
Chapter Thirteen
-
Seattle is rainier than ever
by Goo Goo Dolls
by Avril Lavigne
by Alicia Keys
by Def Leppard
by Survivor
by Sara Bareilles
by Peter Gabriel
by Ed Sheeran
by Nora Jones
by Heart
by Journey
by Selena Gomez
by Kelly Clarkson
by Beyonce
by Gym Class Heroes
I’m Remington.”
hear
the god-awful sound of bone cracking against flesh, and the hairs on my arms are pricked in utter fear. Any minute now I expect one of them to fall and never, ever, get up again.
“
Brooke!” Melanie, my best friend, squeals and hugs me. “You look ready to puke, you are
so
not cut out for this!”
As soon as I take my eyes off these men and make sure they’re both breathing when they finish this round, I’m going to murder my best friend without mercy. And then myself for agreeing to come here in the first place.
But my poor, dear Melanie has a new man-crush, and as soon as she found out the object of her nightly fantasies was in the city participating in these “private” and very “dangerous” underground club fighting games, she begged me to come with her and watch him. It’s just hard to say no to Melanie. She’s effusive and insistent, and now she’s jumping in glee.
He’s next,” she hisses, uncaring of who won this last round, or if they even survived. Which apparently, thank god, they both did. “Get ready for some serious piece of eye candy, Brookey!”
The public falls silent, and the announcer calls, “Ladies and gentlemen, and noooww … the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the man you’re all here to see. The baddest of the bad, I give you, the one, the
only
, Remington ‘Riptide’ Tate!”
Remy! I love you, Remy!”
“
I’ll suck your cock for you, Remy!”
“
REMY, POUND ME, REMY!”
“
Remington I want your Riptide!”
Across the ring from me, a woman waves a poster reading “REMY’S #1 BITCH” proudly in the air, and she’s screaming at the top of her lungs in his direction—I guess in case he doesn’t know how to read or misses the neon pink letters or the glitter.
I’m so astounded, only now realizing my crazy best friend isn’t the only female in Seattle who’s apparently lost her head for this guy, when I feel her squeezing my arm. “I dare you to look at him and tell me you wouldn’t do anything for that man.”
I wouldn’t do anything for that man,” I instantly repeat, just to win.
“
You’re not looking!” she squeals. “Look at him.
Look
.”
both
of us.
My.
God.
Dimples.
Dark scruffy jaw.
Boyish smile. Man’s body.
Killer tan.
A shiver shoots down my spine as I helplessly drink in the entire package everyone else seems to be gaping at.
He has black hair, standing up sexily as if women have just had their fingers there. Cheekbones as strong as his jaw and forehead. Lips that are red-kissed and swollen, and as a souvenir from his walk to the ring, there’s lipstick on his jaw. I look down his long, lean body and something hot and wild settles in my core.
He’s mesmerizingly perfect and incredibly hard. Everything, from his beautifully slim hips and narrow waist to his broad shoulders, is solid. And that six-pack. No. It’s an eight-pack. The sexy V of his obliques dips into his satin, navy blue shorts, which gently hug his powerful legs, thick with muscle. I can see his quads, traps, pecs, and biceps, all gloriously tight and cut. Celtic tattoos circle both of his arms, exactly where his bulging biceps and the rigid square deltoids of his shoulders meet.
Remy!
Remy
!” Mel shouts hysterically at my side, hands cupped to her mouth. “
You’re so fucking hot, Remy
!”
His head angles to the sound, one dimple showing with a sexy smile as he faces us. A frisson of nervous energy passes through me, not because he’s extremely gorgeous from this perfect view—because he is, he definitely is, goodness, he
really
is—but mostly because he’s looking straight at me.