Playing Pretend, page 4
Fast.
Chaste.
A brief whisper of contact that steals my breath and leaves me sober.
But he pulls back before I can protest, his grin wicked as my lips burn. My cheeks, too.
“I’m starving.” There’s innuendo in his tone, despite his gaze shifting to the resort behind me. “Let’s eat.”
I have no words. Only thoughts. Millions of them.
My brain screams through my lack of preparation. I was not expecting this level of mastery. Who would’ve?
The touching—yes.
The temple peck—yeah, okay.
But a kiss on the lips?
Jesus Christ, Rome.
He entwines our hands and leads me, shocked and stumbling, toward the restaurant.
What the hell just happened?
I walk mindlessly, being seated at a large rectangular table with my colleagues in a complete brain fog. Rome takes the chair to my left and Sue sits to my right, while my face decides it wants to be the newest grill at a Japanese barbecue.
Someone puts a menu in my hand while nonsensical chatter echoes around me. Another cocktail is placed before me. Some sort of music plays in the distance. Yet I can’t get rid of the shock.
My best friend—the guy who taught me how to drive—kissed me.
And not only did our lips touch, but he did it without a care. Without emotion. While my body continues to react as if the contact was the starting sequence to a karma sutra marathon.
I can’t slow my rapid pulse.
I can’t get my cheeks to quit flaming.
I blindly flip through the menu as Rome makes conversation with Cassidy across the table.
It’s not like he’s never kissed me before.
At Christmas. Easter. Birthdays. His lips even found my cheek the day after I lost my virginity, when regret and fear of pregnancy had me in a mindless mess.
Yet it’s never been on the lips. Never with hungry eyes and hungrier hands.
He inches closer, his palm finding my thigh to increase my anxiety tenfold as he murmurs against my cheek, “You really need to relax.”
Does he not think I’m trying to invest every single ounce of mental capacity to do exactly that?
I clear the massive clog in my throat and jolt my leg, hoping to dislodge his touch.
He ignores the hint. “Relax,” he repeats.
“I am,” I mutter.
It’s just that my alcohol buzz is now diluted with adrenaline, which seems to have made me hypersensitive. So much so that his goddamn hand feels like it’s delivering the almighty touch of Christ.
No. What the hell am I thinking?
He’s the devil. Satan reincarnate.
The absolute worst friend ever.
“You two are so cute together.” Cassidy stalks us from across the table. “It’s not every day that you see a guy like Rome eager to show how he feels in public.”
I don’t know what’s worse—the boost she’s just given his already excessive ego or the reminder of how uncharacteristic his PDAs are. This asshole has been working hard on his allergy to affection.
“I can’t help it.” He teases his fingers back and forth over my inner thigh, continuing an act nobody can see. “I can’t keep my hands to myself.”
He won’t have a problem once I cut them off.
Cassidy giggles. Fucking giggles.
Lord, save me.
I paste on a brittle smile and inch closer toward him to whisper in his ear, “I suggest you learn real quick.”
He snickers. “Admit you’re enjoying this a little and I promise to dial it down a notch.”
“You expect me to tell you I like being manhandled by someone who has always been like a brother to me?” I hiss.
“You know that jab would probably hurt if I didn’t have a pseudo-sibling kink.”
Why am I not surprised?
He pivots to face me, his eyes glistening with mirth. “You’re telling me you’ve never seen me as anything other than a best friend? Not even once?”
I’m sure he already knows that answer.
That at one time, my giddy teen heart would’ve beat its way into cardiac arrest if he’d touched me like this. I’m certain my past is the reason I’ve fallen so easily into his trap. I’m living some sort of warped teenage fantasy. But I need to shut it down. I’m not going back there. I don’t want to be the person who feels things for her best friend. “It doesn’t count if I was an ignorant child.”
“And what if I was once an ignorant child, too?”
My stomach flips. Tumbles. He says it so simply, unraveling my childhood memories with ease and contorting them into something different.
“Rome,” Max says from farther down the table. “Can you spill any secrets on the Bellefont development? Just how ludicrously expensive are those condos going to be when they hit the market?”
Rome continues to stare at me. Silent. Hypnotizing.
Is he serious? Was there a time when he felt something more than friendship between us?
Finally, he drags his attention to Max. “Exceptionally ludicrous. No expense has been spared.”
I release the congealed air from my lungs and grasp my cocktail. I graduate from sipping. I don’t even use the straw. I guzzle from the rim, trying to be as ladylike as possible while dousing my soul in liquor.
What would’ve happened if we’d dated?
No. It wasn’t possible with our age gap.
When I was sixteen, he was twenty-two. Or worse, at twelve, he was eighteen. At no time would it have been socially or morally acceptable. Not even close. So, when the hell could he have had a crush on me?
I fixate on the question as a waitress takes our meal orders.
I’m still neck deep in thought through dinner while Rome enjoys the focus of my colleagues as he eats. They grill him about the Bellefont Residences. They schmooze and try to butter him up.
I remain a deer in headlights.
I’ve had an additional cocktail and barely half my fried chicken and roast vegetables when the waitress returns to offer the dessert menu. But I can’t take any more social interaction.
I stand, dabbing my mouth with the cloth napkin before placing it on the table. “I’m sorry, guys…” My head sways from the sudden ascent. Thank you, potent liquor. “I’m going to call it an early night.”
I’m greeted with groans, protests, and pleas.
“I’m exhausted and still haven’t unpacked yet,” I add. “I haven’t even been inside my room. So I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Rome pushes back his chair.
“No.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “Stay. Enjoy yourself.”
“I plan on doing exactly that back in our suite.” He stands, giving me a look. A scandalous one. Implying to everyone in the vicinity that this is a prelude to a massive sex fest.
Son of a bitch.
Laughter erupts from my colleagues. Snickers and rude references, too.
I glance around the restaurant, praying the other office—especially Julian—isn’t in the vicinity to hear this gag-inducing display. I find the Newport Beach table. But they don’t pay us attention. My ex is still nowhere in sight.
“Good night all.” Rome takes my hand. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“I’m sure we will,” Cassidy croons. “Just not as much as the two of you.”
More laughter is shared at my expense.
Death isn’t enough. I need him to suffer.
I force a smile, then turn and measure my stride from the restaurant with Rome at my side.
It isn’t until we’re enclosed in the elevator that I snatch my hand from his and glare. “If you’re confident I won’t be able to put up with your bullshit for the next three days, the least you can do is not ruin my prospects at the job I have to return to.”
“It was your confidence that started this. I thought you could handle me?”
I clench my teeth.
I could. I can.
“I didn’t think you’d be stepping so far out of our friendship zone.” The elevator doors open on our floor and I stalk into the hall. “What the hell was that kiss about?”
“That wasn’t a kiss.” He follows behind me.
“Your lips were on mine, Rome.” I stop at our door and slam the key card against the panel. “In front of everyone.”
“Barely. I kiss my grandmother with more passion.”
I blink. Blink again. “Although incredibly disturbing, that’s beside the point.”
“And the point is?” He glides an arm in front of me to push the door open.
“We’re friends.” I march into our suite, grabbing my suitcase to drag it farther inside as I pass. “You’re making this weird.”
“You’re the one making it weird. This may be a challenge, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with it.”
I haul my suitcase onto the bed. “This is the farthest thing from fun for me.”
“Why?”
I pause at the simply stated question.
Yeah, Piper, why isn’t it fun? Why wouldn’t it be enjoyable for two friends to laugh and enjoy themselves while on a company-paid vacation? Why are you taking this so seriously?
Shit.
“Piper?” he asks. “Why, exactly, aren’t you having fun?”
CHAPTER 4
Rome
She falls quiet, refusing to answer as she roughly unzips her suitcase.
It’s been effortless getting under her skin. But I’m concerned about this “like a brother” bullshit.
Is that really how she sees me?
“I’m stressed,” she finally admits. “We haven’t discussed this situation properly. And I’m more than a little disturbed that your expectations for this weekend are vastly different from mine.”
I lean against the tiny round table pressed against the wall. “My expectation is that I’m your boyfriend for the next three nights.”
“Fake boyfriend.”
My lips twitch. “Are you getting your panties in a twist because you’re losing? Because I distinctly remember you boasting about being immune to my charms.”
She swings around to face me. “I would never describe your player instincts as charm.”
My grin increases.
Her eyes flare with annoyance. “You don’t get it. I’m the one who has to come up with a breakup story once this is over. I’m the poor sucker who needs to explain how you were smitten one minute then gone the next.”
“But isn’t that a perfect excuse? That I was too smitten for you. Too much man to handle.”
She glowers.
Fuck it’s cute. My dick agrees.
“I’m here as your significant other.” I push from the table and approach her. “I’m going to flirt. I’m going to tease. And I’m definitely going to touch you, Pip. A lot.”
“Are you done?”
I smirk. “I could continue into X-rated territory if you’d like.”
“Don’t,” she growls. “I may have agreed to this challenge, but there’s no need to continue the charade in private. Which means this room is neutral ground. Once we’re inside these walls, there’s no pretending. We go straight back to being you and me.”
I knew this caveat was coming. It’s logical.
“Okay,” I concede with a shrug.
“And we are not sharing that bed.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her chin rising as if in victory. “You can sleep on the sofa.”
Not going to happen.
I don’t need to glance at that bright blue, insomnia-inducing two-seater to confirm my torso wouldn’t fit on it, let alone my legs.
“But you just said—in this room, we’re you and me.” I quirk a brow, feigning confusion. “Two best buddies. So why can’t we sleep on opposite sides of a pool-sized bed?”
“Because you sleep naked.”
I huff a laugh. “I packed boxers, Piper. I’m not going to scandalize you with my dick… At least not within these four walls.”
She reaches into her suitcase to throw a blouse at me. “Please don’t use that word.”
I catch the silken material before it hits me in the face. “Do you prefer cock?”
“Gah.” Her eyes plead through the glaze of intoxication. “Stop tormenting me.”
“I can’t help it. I’m having too much fun.” I close the distance between us to pull her in for a familiar hug. Friendly. Casual. But the smile wipes from my face when she stiffens.
She’s usually soft. Welcoming.
We hug all the time. That isn’t new. But her frozen status is.
“Come on, Piper. I know you enjoy a challenge. That’s all this is.”
She sighs. “I don’t like admitting you’ve thrown me off-balance.”
“Why?” I nuzzle my nose into her hair, breathing deep of the magnolia scent. “It’s not like you to underestimate me.”
“And it’s not like you to be so flamboyant in front of a crowd.”
“Flamboyant?”
“Your display tonight wasn’t how you usually act around women. The Rome I know is always standoffish with conquests. Even frosty at times.”
But she’s not a conquest. This thing I’m working toward is on a whole different level. And it’s not like I can act anything but icy with women when she’s around. That frost she’s talking about is because of guilt. Being with someone else has always felt like cheating.
“You’re not just any woman, though,” I say, tongue in cheek despite it being true. “So I need to act accordingly.”
She leans back to meet my gaze. “You’re telling me this is how you’d behave if we were together? That Rome Cavanaugh would suddenly get over his allergy to PDAs and be all touchy-feely?”
Without a doubt.
I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. “I’m not allergic.”
She takes a retreating step, breaking the hug. “Then what would you call it?”
“Selective. My displays are usually more sexual in nature.”
Her cheeks regain the softest shade of pink. Her blush response has worked overtime tonight, galvanizing my lust.
I fight the urge to readjust my dick. “I’m sure we’ll get to that stage over the next few days.”
“We will not.” Her eyes flare as she returns to her suitcase and riffles through the contents. “You’ve already reached the limit of all things sexual, thank you very much.”
I want to cluck my tongue. To tell her she hasn’t begun to experience what’s in store. But the way she scrambles through her belongings, aggressively messing up the neat pile of clothes, is a vivid indication she’s not ready to hear about the future.
I shrug. “We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t.” She pulls clothes from her bag and plants them onto the bed in a tangled mess. “I’ve already conceded that you shocked me tonight. I wasn’t prepared for you to be so handsy. But believe me, I’ll be ready tomorrow. The thing I won’t agree to, though, is sexualized conversations on a business trip.” She pauses in the middle of her hectic unpacking to meet my gaze. “You need to tone that down. Way down.”
“But sexualized conversations are part of the boyfriend experience. It comes with the territory.”
Her jaw ticks as she snaps her attention back to her belongings and haphazardly shuffles through sundresses. “Don’t pretend that you’d act the way you did tonight in front of your colleagues or investors. We both know you took it too far.” She grabs clumps of material, one fist raising a rainbow of bright colors before she raises another pile and another, desperately searching for something. “If you insist on being perverse in public, do it discreetly. That I can handle. I don’t want my friends overhearing.”
She won’t handle it.
I’m certain.
But I’m fucking pumped to test just how far I can push her delusions.
“I can agree to discretion, too.” I pause, as she continues to scour her belongings. “Have you lost something?”
“No. They’re in here. I packed them.”
“What can’t you find?” Please say underwear.
“My pajamas.”
The admission is a close second best.
She keeps scrambling, now grabbing each item to place back inside the case one by one. “I can’t believe this. I swear I remember taking them out of my dresser.”
I wipe a rough hand across my mouth, trying to contain my grin over divine intervention’s delicious bonus. “Could this be karma?” I muse. “Not too long ago you brought up my preference for sleeping naked. My, how the tables have turned.”
Her squinted gaze slowly travels to mine. “I am not sleeping naked.”
“You sure about that?”
She releases a sound of pure frustration, and my imagination conjures up what noises she’d make in a far more heated setting.
“Would you like to borrow one of my shirts?” My dick thickens at the thought of her in my clothes. It was already going to be difficult keeping to my side of the bed when I assumed she’d be sleeping in her favorite short shorts and tank.
But my shirt?
My belongings?
My scent on her skin?
Fuck.
“Do you have anything other than stiff button-downs?” she mutters.
Stiff is definitely a great descriptor at this point in the game. “I don’t think now is the time to critique my superior dress sense, do you?”
Her shoulders slump. Her face falls. How one woman can be so undeniably attractive while entirely flustered is beyond me. “Do you have anything I can borrow or not?”
I want to kiss her. Right here. Right now.
To forgo the baby steps and thrust my hand into her hair while I smash my mouth to hers. To tell her that none of this is a charade and it never was. To make her moan. To fuck her senseless.
“Of course.” I walk to the small closet. “My wardrobe is yours to command.” I pull open the doors, grab one of my T-shirts from a plastic hanger, and lob it at her.
She catches it, staring at the material as if it’s a bargain bin reject.
I can’t wait to see her in it.
But before that, I need some space if I’m going to adhere to her rules. “Do you want first shower?”
“No.” She keeps eyeing the shirt with disdain.
