Playing Pretend, page 11
I pad forward, the sand hugging my toes while I enter the huddled mass.
There’s no Julian. No Rome. And until Cassidy finishes getting ready, there’s no office buddy to act as my buffer either.
“Champagne?” A cute blonde waitress beams a bubbly grin at me.
I shouldn’t. But I do. I take one of the offered flutes on her tray and continue meandering through the throng of colleagues and significant others, saying hellos, smiling politely, making casual chitchat.
I make my presence known to appease the bosses, because as soon as Rome shows his face my feeble confidence is likely to shrivel, and I’ll be on the fast track out of here.
Yet after fifteen minutes there’s no sign of him. I stand on my tippy-toes to rescan the crowd, then check my phone for a reply to my last message. There’s no response.
Maybe he’s frustrated with me. Or worse, angry.
Could I blame him?
He’s acted as though our time together has been judgement-free fun. While I’ve criticized and compartmentalized every move he’s made. Adding complications. Causing headaches.
If I hadn’t consumed a lake of liquor, I’m sure I’d have had this situation sorted by now. Instead, I drag myself down to the water to clear my head, taking in the sun as it creeps closer to the horizon. I attempt to lose myself in the artistry of pinks and purples, the picturesque beauty of the luminescent sky towering above the deep blue ocean. But not even the postcard view can stop the scandalous flashbacks today has provided.
I still feel him all over my body. His stubbled cheek against mine. His thigh between my legs.
Stop worrying so much and enjoy the opportunity you’ve got while it’s here.
Great. Now Cassidy is stuck in my head.
After many long minutes trying to gain a sense of equilibrium, the squeak of footsteps approach behind me. Slow and steady.
I already know it’s Rome. I can sense him. His aura. His essence.
His devilish soul whispers to the angel of mine, tickling the hair on my nape.
“Am I allowed to talk to you yet?” he murmurs to my back. “Or would you prefer if I kept my distance a while longer?”
I wince. “Of course you can talk to me.”
He inches closer behind me, entering my personal space, his alluring aftershave sinking into my lungs. His heated palms skim my waist as his chin comes to rest on my shoulder. A friendly embrace. Warm and perfect and so painfully apologetic my eyes burn.
“Do you still want to call it quits with the challenge?” His voice is low. Barely audible. “Before you answer, I’m going to be honest and admit I’ll feel like absolute shit if you do.”
My pulse flutters beneath tightening ribs.
A part of me wants to say yes. The fragile, insecure part that knows the aftermath to this adrenaline bomb is likely to be brutal. But the rest of me screams for the opportunity to take every morsel of his attention while I have it. To indulge in his touch. To sink into this fantasy existence while our subscription to insanity lasts.
“Today was…” I close my eyes, my skin knitting with goose bumps.
“It was hectic.” He drags in a breath, releasing it in a frustrated sigh. “I was livid with your ex. And the booze didn’t help. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how you let Julian change the way you see yourself. So why couldn’t I do the same? I thought all it would take was an easy orgasm...”
The starting sequence to a blistering blush bubbles beneath my skin. I wish I could keep my eyes closed. That I could hide in this cocoon of darkness forever.
Goddamnit. Why am I such a prude in front of him?
My body doesn’t react this way around anyone else. I’ve discussed sex, nudity, and orgasms with Cassidy without flaw. It’s only him. Only my best friend, who should make me feel the least guarded.
“I understand why you wanted to help,” I whisper, blinking my eyes open. “In the past I’ve felt the same way about you and Stacey. She’s the Julian in your situation as far as I’m concerned.”
“I disagree.” An edge creeps into his tone. “And I don’t get why you and Rett keep bringing her up like she’s a significant part of my life. She’s not even a friend. Barely a sexual benefit. She means noth—”
“She has been a significant part.” I step forward, his hold falling from my waist as I turn to face him. At least he’s wearing a full set of clothes this time. If only he didn’t look effortlessly handsome in his white, collared shirt and tan chinos. “She’s the toxic punishment you turn to when you think you’ve messed up. You ran to her when the Stanfield development went bust. She was in your bed through the supply shortage that almost made you and Rett go belly-up.”
He straightens, his shoulders becoming a wide barrier against the truth. “She’s never been in my bed.”
“I’m not going to argue semantics. You know she’s not a great person. And like the way you felt today, I wish I could wake you up to the reality.”
“I don’t spend time with her for the conversation, Piper.”
I cringe at his callousness. At the sterility. I think their relationship is the only thing that sparks my disappointment in him. Ingrained, crestfallen heartache. He’s so much better than his actions when it comes to her.
“I know exactly why you spend time with her.” I give him a pitying look. “It’s because of her particular kinks.”
His mouth snaps shut.
Yes, Rome, I know.
Rett has told me stories I would’ve preferred he kept hidden. Stories about how Stacey enjoys inflicting pain and not the pleasurable kind.
I’d understand if Rome indulged in that type of kink on a regular basis. I’d tease him over it and roll my eyes when he bragged about his escapades. But he doesn’t brag. He doesn’t breathe a word of those stories and I know it’s because he’s ashamed.
She’s punishment for his imperfections and I hate how he thinks he deserves it.
“Your brother needs to keep his mouth shut.” Rome scowls at the sunset.
“Don’t take this out on Rett.” I throw my champagne into the ocean and let the flute dangle between my fingers alongside my sandals, wishing my brain wasn’t entirely pickled. “You’re allowed to have dark tastes. It doesn’t stop you from being someone that everyone here admires.”
He huffs a snide laugh. “Would their admiration stick if they knew I lost three million on the Stanfield project?”
“Yes.” I nod. “You’d be a shallow piece of shit if you never made a mistake.”
His eyes narrow, his lips kicking with a sexy grin. “There’s that dirty mouth of yours again. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the threat I made earlier.”
A heatwave hits my limbs. My neck. My ears.
“An added blush, too.” He raises a brow. “I guess you didn’t forget after all.”
I swallow, forcing myself to roll my eyes. “And here I was thinking you’d stop with the fake boyfriend theatrics.”
He grabs my waist, swings me around to face the sunset, then cuddles in behind me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to change the topic of conversation away from someone unworthy of our attention.”
My skin throbs where we touch—my back, my hips, my ass. I know it’s only hormones. Intoxication. But nobody has ever made me tingle like this.
His chin finds my shoulder again. His mouth tilts toward my ear, his breath delicately teasing my neck. “I’m proud of the way you handled yourself today.”
“You sound fatherly.” I chuckle. “Is that because you’re hoping to brainwash me into calling you daddy before the weekend is out?”
“Behave.” He playfully nips his teeth into my skin. “I was attempting to be thoughtful.”
I keep laughing, trying to disguise the painful way my nipples bead inside my bra. They ache. Throb.
Goddamn you, Rome.
“You handled Julian well,” he adds. “If I were a woman, I would’ve dragged his balls out through his throat.”
“If you were a woman, could you stop playing with yourself long enough to string a sentence together?”
“Probably not.” He snickers. “You’re feisty tonight.”
No, I’m a mess.
One minute, I’m confident and determined. The next, I’m weak and needy. Right now, I’m hellbent on volleying back at least some of the eroticism he catapults my way. “I’m drunk.” I’m also drowning in how natural this is. How nice and warm and genuine it feels to have him cuddled against me as the sun disappears behind the horizon.
“I know.”
“You don’t know everything, Rome.”
“You sure? I’m pretty confident I can read your thoughts every second of the day.” His rough stubble brushes my cheek as he whispers, “Want me to tell you what you’re thinking right now?”
“No.”
He laughs. “Are you afraid I’ll be right?”
“I’m afraid you’ll take the opportunity to say something dripping in vulgarity.”
“Dripping? I like where your head is at.”
I realize too late that he’s gained the upper hand. Again. I swing around and start for the marquee. “I think they’ve begun serving food. I’m starving.”
He grabs my wrist, halting me not only with his touch, but the seriousness in his expression. “Do you forgive me for this afternoon?”
My heart lurches. My pulse falters. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
He stands taller, his eyes scanning me as if in search of honesty. “You sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
I don’t know if he believes me. I’m not certain I believe myself.
“So that means we can do it all again tomorrow?” A sly grin tilts his lips.
I laugh. I can’t help it. “You’re relentless.”
“Guilty as charged.” He slides his palm down to mine, entwines our fingers, and leads the way toward my colleagues where waitstaff offer hors d’oeuvres from silver trays.
I strive for calmness with every passing hour that his touch causes my pulse to riot. His arm is always around my waist, or shoulder, or hip. It’s gentle—the most tender reminder of his effect on me.
Unlike the last twenty-four hours, his fake boyfriend role loses the horny frat-boy edge. He’s respectful tonight, constantly singing my praises to anyone who’ll listen, marking the end of each conversation with a tender brush of his lips to my temple.
And I’m sure the way he regularly scans the crowd is a protective act in search of Julian, who doesn’t show his face.
“Did you know Piper is the reason the Bellefont development started in the first place?” Rome tells Pete.
“I am?” I ask.
Rome keeps his attention on my boss. “We drove through the suburb years ago—me, Piper, and her brother—and she made a random comment about how the area needed a showcase property to liven things up. Something community driven that would bring people together.” He takes a sip of his scotch, pretending I don’t exist apart from the gentle rub of his thumb along my hip. “She went on with a property wish list—a courtyard with a community garden, a coffee shop on the lower level, and a private space residents could hire for parties or events.”
I remember that day. I even remember the car ride and the conversation.
What I have no recollection of is his interest.
“You never told me that.” I frown.
“I never told you I instigated a multimillion-dollar property development because of a seventeen-year-old’s off-the-cuff vision?” He huffs a laugh, the sweet scent of alcohol on his breath tickling my senses.
“It sounds like Rome has hung off your every word for quite some time.” Pete drawls. “You two are quite the power couple.”
I swallow, my heart thud, thud, thudding in my ears. “I guess so…”
“You better believe it.” Rome leans in for another one of those chaste yet explosive kisses to my hairline. “I won’t be letting her go.”
Yes, he will. I need to keep reminding myself of that, no matter how flawless his charade.
“I’m happy for you both.” Pete walks forward to clap Rome on the shoulder. “I need another drink. Anyone else want one?”
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
“I’m good.” Rome pulls me closer into his side, as if sensing my need for space and blatantly defying it.
It isn’t until my boss is out of earshot that I wiggle myself from Rome’s hold. “You’ve chosen a different tactic tonight.” I scope the crowd, praying for a glimpse of Cassidy so I can send out an SOS. “Still shocking, yet more on the subtle side.”
“I’m not trying to shock you.”
“No?” I raise a brow. “So the Bellefont revelation was for what reason?”
He throws back the remainder of his scotch in one swallow. “Because I still hate what that asshole did to you today and thought a compliment might help… But that horrified look on your face is leading me to believe I’ve made another wrong move.”
“It’s not horror.” It’s bewilderment. Confusion.
“Then what is it?” He turns to me, the dark depths of his eyes twinkling from the overhead lights. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I thought you could read my mind?”
He takes painfully long moments to peer into my soul. To make me feel like he’s right inside my chest, his heart beating in time with mine. “I guess this weekend’s events have messed with my abilities.” He reaches out, guiding the loose strands of my braid behind my ear. “You’re throwing me for a loop.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” I bite my bottom lip, my breath catching when his gaze lowers to trek the movement. He stares at my mouth, relentless, until I reclaim his attention with a harsh clearing of my throat. “This is getting messy.”
“Are you still second-guessing your participation in the challenge?”
“Never,” I lie.
Two more nights.
Two more heated, punishing nights.
He reaches for my hair again, this time slower, more delicately as he guides the strands behind my ear with agonizing lethargy. “You’re skittish.”
Yes. Every nerve is on edge. Every heartbeat fractured. “Am I?”
“You know you are. Tell me why?”
Because the world disappears under his gaze. There’s no sound other than the drum of my pulse. No scent apart from his aftershave and the sweet alcohol on his breath.
“Maybe I’m beginning to worry about what will happen when you fall in love with me?” I grin, acting coy.
“Who says I haven’t already?” His expression doesn’t change. The smug confidence I expect doesn’t tweak his mouth.
It’s an act. A game of chicken he plays far better than I do.
“I’m not going to quit, Rome. You’re stuck with me until Sunday.”
Finally, his lips kick at one side. “Good.”
Is it though?
I’ve reached sensory overload and he’s not even affected.
My mouth won’t quit tingling. My heart is practically singing Disney melodies.
I’m beginning to think it might be best to take Rome’s advice and conquer via desensitization. To continue this friends-with-benefits scheme and work the lust out of my system like Cassidy suggested.
It’s only two more nights.
“Good,” I mimic as music erupts from the other side of the marquee, the fast beat of a female power anthem belting through the night. Cheers and squeals follow as my most intoxicated colleagues form a drunken mosh circle under the stars.
“Let’s dance.” Cassidy shimmies by, grabbing my hand with a yank as she passes.
I stumble forward while Rome remains in place, watching me get dragged away.
“Thank God.” I squeeze her fingers. “Where have you been all night? I’ve needed you to save me.”
She scrunches her nose. “I thought so. But I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt.” She raises her arm, dragging mine along with it to twirl me in the direction of Max and Vanessa. “I’ve been hiding because you two look so sweet together.”
“It’s not real,” I mouth.
“I disagree.” She swings her hips, hyper-focused on the music.
I’m not going to argue. Not when I finally have space to breathe. I dance to the beat, my sandals and cell in one hand, the other remaining under Cassidy’s control.
“Did you both talk about what happened?” she asks.
“A little.” I glance over my shoulder, finding Rome staring back at me from where I left him. His attention doesn’t stray when a guy from the Newport Beach office comes up beside him to strike conversation. Those chocolate eyes don’t waver as he places his empty glass on a passing waitress’s tray.
“He’s different tonight.” I turn back to Cassidy. “Less sexual. But somehow more intense.”
“Is that better or worse?”
“I don’t know.” I never thought I’d miss his dirty words, but when pitted against the praise he’s spoken to my colleagues there’s a clear distinction between how one affects my heart while the other tinkers with my ovaries. “The only thing I’m sure of is that it’s far safer to be over here with you. You need to be a better buffer.”
“I’ll try my best.”
I keep dancing through an eighties classic, then a fast-paced techno thrasher, but when the song changes to a slow, sweet melody I decide to call it quits. “I need to go to bed.”
Max overhears my plight from the other side of our dance circle and pins me with a teasing grin. “For rest or exercise?”
“For sleep. I’m exhausted.”
Vanessa giggles like a schoolgirl. It’s ridiculous. I just wish my stomach didn’t respond with the same giddiness.
“I don’t doubt it.” Max takes a chug of beer. “I bet last night was a marathon.”
“Last night was nothing but blissful slumber, thank you very much.”
“Then your man must be a powder keg. I hope you enjoy the moment of detonation.”
“And I hope you enjoy spending another night with your face in the sand.” I give him a sardonic finger wave as I retreat from the dancing group. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Everyone bids me farewell with a string of obscene comments—Don’t pull a muscle… Practice safe sleeping habits… It’s rude to spit so make sure you swallow.
There’s no Julian. No Rome. And until Cassidy finishes getting ready, there’s no office buddy to act as my buffer either.
“Champagne?” A cute blonde waitress beams a bubbly grin at me.
I shouldn’t. But I do. I take one of the offered flutes on her tray and continue meandering through the throng of colleagues and significant others, saying hellos, smiling politely, making casual chitchat.
I make my presence known to appease the bosses, because as soon as Rome shows his face my feeble confidence is likely to shrivel, and I’ll be on the fast track out of here.
Yet after fifteen minutes there’s no sign of him. I stand on my tippy-toes to rescan the crowd, then check my phone for a reply to my last message. There’s no response.
Maybe he’s frustrated with me. Or worse, angry.
Could I blame him?
He’s acted as though our time together has been judgement-free fun. While I’ve criticized and compartmentalized every move he’s made. Adding complications. Causing headaches.
If I hadn’t consumed a lake of liquor, I’m sure I’d have had this situation sorted by now. Instead, I drag myself down to the water to clear my head, taking in the sun as it creeps closer to the horizon. I attempt to lose myself in the artistry of pinks and purples, the picturesque beauty of the luminescent sky towering above the deep blue ocean. But not even the postcard view can stop the scandalous flashbacks today has provided.
I still feel him all over my body. His stubbled cheek against mine. His thigh between my legs.
Stop worrying so much and enjoy the opportunity you’ve got while it’s here.
Great. Now Cassidy is stuck in my head.
After many long minutes trying to gain a sense of equilibrium, the squeak of footsteps approach behind me. Slow and steady.
I already know it’s Rome. I can sense him. His aura. His essence.
His devilish soul whispers to the angel of mine, tickling the hair on my nape.
“Am I allowed to talk to you yet?” he murmurs to my back. “Or would you prefer if I kept my distance a while longer?”
I wince. “Of course you can talk to me.”
He inches closer behind me, entering my personal space, his alluring aftershave sinking into my lungs. His heated palms skim my waist as his chin comes to rest on my shoulder. A friendly embrace. Warm and perfect and so painfully apologetic my eyes burn.
“Do you still want to call it quits with the challenge?” His voice is low. Barely audible. “Before you answer, I’m going to be honest and admit I’ll feel like absolute shit if you do.”
My pulse flutters beneath tightening ribs.
A part of me wants to say yes. The fragile, insecure part that knows the aftermath to this adrenaline bomb is likely to be brutal. But the rest of me screams for the opportunity to take every morsel of his attention while I have it. To indulge in his touch. To sink into this fantasy existence while our subscription to insanity lasts.
“Today was…” I close my eyes, my skin knitting with goose bumps.
“It was hectic.” He drags in a breath, releasing it in a frustrated sigh. “I was livid with your ex. And the booze didn’t help. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how you let Julian change the way you see yourself. So why couldn’t I do the same? I thought all it would take was an easy orgasm...”
The starting sequence to a blistering blush bubbles beneath my skin. I wish I could keep my eyes closed. That I could hide in this cocoon of darkness forever.
Goddamnit. Why am I such a prude in front of him?
My body doesn’t react this way around anyone else. I’ve discussed sex, nudity, and orgasms with Cassidy without flaw. It’s only him. Only my best friend, who should make me feel the least guarded.
“I understand why you wanted to help,” I whisper, blinking my eyes open. “In the past I’ve felt the same way about you and Stacey. She’s the Julian in your situation as far as I’m concerned.”
“I disagree.” An edge creeps into his tone. “And I don’t get why you and Rett keep bringing her up like she’s a significant part of my life. She’s not even a friend. Barely a sexual benefit. She means noth—”
“She has been a significant part.” I step forward, his hold falling from my waist as I turn to face him. At least he’s wearing a full set of clothes this time. If only he didn’t look effortlessly handsome in his white, collared shirt and tan chinos. “She’s the toxic punishment you turn to when you think you’ve messed up. You ran to her when the Stanfield development went bust. She was in your bed through the supply shortage that almost made you and Rett go belly-up.”
He straightens, his shoulders becoming a wide barrier against the truth. “She’s never been in my bed.”
“I’m not going to argue semantics. You know she’s not a great person. And like the way you felt today, I wish I could wake you up to the reality.”
“I don’t spend time with her for the conversation, Piper.”
I cringe at his callousness. At the sterility. I think their relationship is the only thing that sparks my disappointment in him. Ingrained, crestfallen heartache. He’s so much better than his actions when it comes to her.
“I know exactly why you spend time with her.” I give him a pitying look. “It’s because of her particular kinks.”
His mouth snaps shut.
Yes, Rome, I know.
Rett has told me stories I would’ve preferred he kept hidden. Stories about how Stacey enjoys inflicting pain and not the pleasurable kind.
I’d understand if Rome indulged in that type of kink on a regular basis. I’d tease him over it and roll my eyes when he bragged about his escapades. But he doesn’t brag. He doesn’t breathe a word of those stories and I know it’s because he’s ashamed.
She’s punishment for his imperfections and I hate how he thinks he deserves it.
“Your brother needs to keep his mouth shut.” Rome scowls at the sunset.
“Don’t take this out on Rett.” I throw my champagne into the ocean and let the flute dangle between my fingers alongside my sandals, wishing my brain wasn’t entirely pickled. “You’re allowed to have dark tastes. It doesn’t stop you from being someone that everyone here admires.”
He huffs a snide laugh. “Would their admiration stick if they knew I lost three million on the Stanfield project?”
“Yes.” I nod. “You’d be a shallow piece of shit if you never made a mistake.”
His eyes narrow, his lips kicking with a sexy grin. “There’s that dirty mouth of yours again. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the threat I made earlier.”
A heatwave hits my limbs. My neck. My ears.
“An added blush, too.” He raises a brow. “I guess you didn’t forget after all.”
I swallow, forcing myself to roll my eyes. “And here I was thinking you’d stop with the fake boyfriend theatrics.”
He grabs my waist, swings me around to face the sunset, then cuddles in behind me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to change the topic of conversation away from someone unworthy of our attention.”
My skin throbs where we touch—my back, my hips, my ass. I know it’s only hormones. Intoxication. But nobody has ever made me tingle like this.
His chin finds my shoulder again. His mouth tilts toward my ear, his breath delicately teasing my neck. “I’m proud of the way you handled yourself today.”
“You sound fatherly.” I chuckle. “Is that because you’re hoping to brainwash me into calling you daddy before the weekend is out?”
“Behave.” He playfully nips his teeth into my skin. “I was attempting to be thoughtful.”
I keep laughing, trying to disguise the painful way my nipples bead inside my bra. They ache. Throb.
Goddamn you, Rome.
“You handled Julian well,” he adds. “If I were a woman, I would’ve dragged his balls out through his throat.”
“If you were a woman, could you stop playing with yourself long enough to string a sentence together?”
“Probably not.” He snickers. “You’re feisty tonight.”
No, I’m a mess.
One minute, I’m confident and determined. The next, I’m weak and needy. Right now, I’m hellbent on volleying back at least some of the eroticism he catapults my way. “I’m drunk.” I’m also drowning in how natural this is. How nice and warm and genuine it feels to have him cuddled against me as the sun disappears behind the horizon.
“I know.”
“You don’t know everything, Rome.”
“You sure? I’m pretty confident I can read your thoughts every second of the day.” His rough stubble brushes my cheek as he whispers, “Want me to tell you what you’re thinking right now?”
“No.”
He laughs. “Are you afraid I’ll be right?”
“I’m afraid you’ll take the opportunity to say something dripping in vulgarity.”
“Dripping? I like where your head is at.”
I realize too late that he’s gained the upper hand. Again. I swing around and start for the marquee. “I think they’ve begun serving food. I’m starving.”
He grabs my wrist, halting me not only with his touch, but the seriousness in his expression. “Do you forgive me for this afternoon?”
My heart lurches. My pulse falters. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
He stands taller, his eyes scanning me as if in search of honesty. “You sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
I don’t know if he believes me. I’m not certain I believe myself.
“So that means we can do it all again tomorrow?” A sly grin tilts his lips.
I laugh. I can’t help it. “You’re relentless.”
“Guilty as charged.” He slides his palm down to mine, entwines our fingers, and leads the way toward my colleagues where waitstaff offer hors d’oeuvres from silver trays.
I strive for calmness with every passing hour that his touch causes my pulse to riot. His arm is always around my waist, or shoulder, or hip. It’s gentle—the most tender reminder of his effect on me.
Unlike the last twenty-four hours, his fake boyfriend role loses the horny frat-boy edge. He’s respectful tonight, constantly singing my praises to anyone who’ll listen, marking the end of each conversation with a tender brush of his lips to my temple.
And I’m sure the way he regularly scans the crowd is a protective act in search of Julian, who doesn’t show his face.
“Did you know Piper is the reason the Bellefont development started in the first place?” Rome tells Pete.
“I am?” I ask.
Rome keeps his attention on my boss. “We drove through the suburb years ago—me, Piper, and her brother—and she made a random comment about how the area needed a showcase property to liven things up. Something community driven that would bring people together.” He takes a sip of his scotch, pretending I don’t exist apart from the gentle rub of his thumb along my hip. “She went on with a property wish list—a courtyard with a community garden, a coffee shop on the lower level, and a private space residents could hire for parties or events.”
I remember that day. I even remember the car ride and the conversation.
What I have no recollection of is his interest.
“You never told me that.” I frown.
“I never told you I instigated a multimillion-dollar property development because of a seventeen-year-old’s off-the-cuff vision?” He huffs a laugh, the sweet scent of alcohol on his breath tickling my senses.
“It sounds like Rome has hung off your every word for quite some time.” Pete drawls. “You two are quite the power couple.”
I swallow, my heart thud, thud, thudding in my ears. “I guess so…”
“You better believe it.” Rome leans in for another one of those chaste yet explosive kisses to my hairline. “I won’t be letting her go.”
Yes, he will. I need to keep reminding myself of that, no matter how flawless his charade.
“I’m happy for you both.” Pete walks forward to clap Rome on the shoulder. “I need another drink. Anyone else want one?”
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
“I’m good.” Rome pulls me closer into his side, as if sensing my need for space and blatantly defying it.
It isn’t until my boss is out of earshot that I wiggle myself from Rome’s hold. “You’ve chosen a different tactic tonight.” I scope the crowd, praying for a glimpse of Cassidy so I can send out an SOS. “Still shocking, yet more on the subtle side.”
“I’m not trying to shock you.”
“No?” I raise a brow. “So the Bellefont revelation was for what reason?”
He throws back the remainder of his scotch in one swallow. “Because I still hate what that asshole did to you today and thought a compliment might help… But that horrified look on your face is leading me to believe I’ve made another wrong move.”
“It’s not horror.” It’s bewilderment. Confusion.
“Then what is it?” He turns to me, the dark depths of his eyes twinkling from the overhead lights. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I thought you could read my mind?”
He takes painfully long moments to peer into my soul. To make me feel like he’s right inside my chest, his heart beating in time with mine. “I guess this weekend’s events have messed with my abilities.” He reaches out, guiding the loose strands of my braid behind my ear. “You’re throwing me for a loop.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” I bite my bottom lip, my breath catching when his gaze lowers to trek the movement. He stares at my mouth, relentless, until I reclaim his attention with a harsh clearing of my throat. “This is getting messy.”
“Are you still second-guessing your participation in the challenge?”
“Never,” I lie.
Two more nights.
Two more heated, punishing nights.
He reaches for my hair again, this time slower, more delicately as he guides the strands behind my ear with agonizing lethargy. “You’re skittish.”
Yes. Every nerve is on edge. Every heartbeat fractured. “Am I?”
“You know you are. Tell me why?”
Because the world disappears under his gaze. There’s no sound other than the drum of my pulse. No scent apart from his aftershave and the sweet alcohol on his breath.
“Maybe I’m beginning to worry about what will happen when you fall in love with me?” I grin, acting coy.
“Who says I haven’t already?” His expression doesn’t change. The smug confidence I expect doesn’t tweak his mouth.
It’s an act. A game of chicken he plays far better than I do.
“I’m not going to quit, Rome. You’re stuck with me until Sunday.”
Finally, his lips kick at one side. “Good.”
Is it though?
I’ve reached sensory overload and he’s not even affected.
My mouth won’t quit tingling. My heart is practically singing Disney melodies.
I’m beginning to think it might be best to take Rome’s advice and conquer via desensitization. To continue this friends-with-benefits scheme and work the lust out of my system like Cassidy suggested.
It’s only two more nights.
“Good,” I mimic as music erupts from the other side of the marquee, the fast beat of a female power anthem belting through the night. Cheers and squeals follow as my most intoxicated colleagues form a drunken mosh circle under the stars.
“Let’s dance.” Cassidy shimmies by, grabbing my hand with a yank as she passes.
I stumble forward while Rome remains in place, watching me get dragged away.
“Thank God.” I squeeze her fingers. “Where have you been all night? I’ve needed you to save me.”
She scrunches her nose. “I thought so. But I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt.” She raises her arm, dragging mine along with it to twirl me in the direction of Max and Vanessa. “I’ve been hiding because you two look so sweet together.”
“It’s not real,” I mouth.
“I disagree.” She swings her hips, hyper-focused on the music.
I’m not going to argue. Not when I finally have space to breathe. I dance to the beat, my sandals and cell in one hand, the other remaining under Cassidy’s control.
“Did you both talk about what happened?” she asks.
“A little.” I glance over my shoulder, finding Rome staring back at me from where I left him. His attention doesn’t stray when a guy from the Newport Beach office comes up beside him to strike conversation. Those chocolate eyes don’t waver as he places his empty glass on a passing waitress’s tray.
“He’s different tonight.” I turn back to Cassidy. “Less sexual. But somehow more intense.”
“Is that better or worse?”
“I don’t know.” I never thought I’d miss his dirty words, but when pitted against the praise he’s spoken to my colleagues there’s a clear distinction between how one affects my heart while the other tinkers with my ovaries. “The only thing I’m sure of is that it’s far safer to be over here with you. You need to be a better buffer.”
“I’ll try my best.”
I keep dancing through an eighties classic, then a fast-paced techno thrasher, but when the song changes to a slow, sweet melody I decide to call it quits. “I need to go to bed.”
Max overhears my plight from the other side of our dance circle and pins me with a teasing grin. “For rest or exercise?”
“For sleep. I’m exhausted.”
Vanessa giggles like a schoolgirl. It’s ridiculous. I just wish my stomach didn’t respond with the same giddiness.
“I don’t doubt it.” Max takes a chug of beer. “I bet last night was a marathon.”
“Last night was nothing but blissful slumber, thank you very much.”
“Then your man must be a powder keg. I hope you enjoy the moment of detonation.”
“And I hope you enjoy spending another night with your face in the sand.” I give him a sardonic finger wave as I retreat from the dancing group. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Everyone bids me farewell with a string of obscene comments—Don’t pull a muscle… Practice safe sleeping habits… It’s rude to spit so make sure you swallow.
