Playing Pretend, page 6
My heart races. My stomach flips.
When his tongue sweeps across my lips, a whimper escapes me. An audible, needy sound of surrender. The lack of cognitive thought makes it impossible to do anything other than cling to his shirt and follow his lead. To take the path of least resistance, returning the affection for the briefest second.
Then, in a blink, it’s over.
From tumultuous tsunami to rapid vacuum in the space of a second.
He inches back, staring down at me, those dark eyes molten.
This doesn’t feel like a game. Not unless it’s a sordid version of Jumanji, each challenge decidedly worse than the last.
“Rome…” I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how to think.
He straightens, his arm falling from my waist. “I think my work here is done.”
“Your work?” I whisper.
He tilts his head to the right where Julian storms toward the elevators, clearly enraged if the military-style march is anything to go by.
“He was watching you two the entire time,” Cassidy adds. “He left with a parting death stare.”
I swallow, my mouth dry, my pulse racing. I fight against placing my hand to my scorching lips as I say, “I don’t think upsetting him further is an appropriate way to handle this.”
I need air. I can’t breathe.
My lungs are like a vise. My throat is worse.
I’ve fantasized about kissing Rome more times than I can count. A proper kiss. Just like the one we shared. But nothing compared to the reality.
His lips were so much softer. His hold unwaveringly strong.
I can still feel his arm around my waist, the intense heat, the intoxicating chemistry.
“I disagree,” Cassidy pipes up. “After what he said to you earlier, he deserves to suffer.”
“What did he say?” Rome’s eyes narrow.
I ignore him and frown at Cassidy. “How do you know what he said?”
She flashes her teeth with chagrin. “I have supersonic hearing when it comes to gossip. I overheard someone say he accused you of being indecent.”
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the brain fog from that kiss. “That’s not what he said.”
“Then what did he say?” The slightest growl enters Rome’s voice.
“That he expected me to have the human decency to tell him you were coming. That I owed him that much.”
“You don’t owe him a damn thing.” Rome raises his brows, as if waiting for me to agree, while Cassidy stands there like an eager voyeur.
“Do you mind giving us a minute?” I ask her, chancing a glance around to find only two remaining stragglers getting a coffee refill.
“Yeah. No problem. We can catch up in a bit.” She walks backward toward the elevators. “Coffee or cocktails?”
“Cocktails.” So many cocktails. Enough to numb this madness.
She grins, then spins on her heel and saunters away.
“What the hell happened?” Rome lowers his voice. “What did he really say?”
“What the hell happened?” I mimic, grabbing his wrist to drag him back toward the conference room and away from listening ears. “What the hell was that kiss?” A resurgence of heat floods my chest at the mere mention. “You can’t do shit like that, Rome. What the fuck were you—”
“Watch your tongue, little Pip. Don’t make me kiss you again to stop that filthy mouth.”
I gape. Like a goddamn fish.
He grins in return. No words. No apology.
“You can stop the theatrics,” I hiss, planting my feet before the open doors to the conference room. “We’re practically alone.”
“We’re also outside our suite, which means you’re fair game.”
My breaths come short and sharp. He’s outdoing me at every corner. Leveling up before I even reach the starting blocks.
“What happened to professionalism?”
“It wasn’t unprofessional. It was a good morning kiss.”
“And I bet you expect me to believe you kiss your grandmother like that, too?”
He snickers. “No. But I’m sure she’d appreciate it more, if the glare you’re currently giving me is anything to go by.”
The appreciation is the problem. My body hums on a frequency that shouldn’t be reached with a best friend.
Never. Ever.
“Look, I know how men think.” He holds up his palms in placation. “Julian needed to get the message that you’ve moved on. He has that now.”
“Meaning there’s no reason for you to kiss me again?”
“I guess not, despite how well you played along. At one point, it almost felt like you were enjoying yourself.”
I clench my teeth and will my cheeks to stop burning. I will and will without success.
“Can you at least admit you’re surprised by my actions yet?” Rome asks. “That maybe you can’t handle me so easily?”
To myself, yes. Unequivocally. Without pause or contemplation.
I cannot handle this man and the ease with which he douses me with affection.
But will I concede aloud? Hell no.
“I can admit I have absolutely no idea what your mouth on mine has to do with testing my ability to work with you.” I step closer, lowering my voice to a whisper as I say, “Or how it can’t be classed as some sort of pre-employment harassment for that matter.”
“The kiss wasn’t about the challenge. It was purely a protective measure.” He grins. “So you’re welcome.”
Him repeating my derision from last night isn’t lost on me.
The desire to smile at his absolute stupidity isn’t either.
“You’re a dick.” I playfully shove at his sweaty chest. “One who needs a shower.”
“Want to join me?” he says loud enough for the dawdling staff near the coffee machine to hear.
I glare.
He laughs.
Goddamnit. I want to laugh, too.
“I won’t be joining you. I have to make some calls, then I’m going to get an early lunch. We can catch up later.”
“We sure will.” His taunting laughter continues as he backtracks. He’s well aware I need space to recalibrate.
I roll my eyes, refusing to respond.
“Miss me while I’m gone.” He winks, then turns and strolls for the elevators.
As soon as his back is turned, I release all the air in my lungs, not realizing how tightly wound he’d made me until every muscle is slumped.
This is a dangerous game we’re playing. One that still has my lips tingling, my stomach twisting.
He can’t kiss me again.
“Did I overhear correctly?” Pete’s voice carries from inside the conference room.
I flinch.
“Are you going to lunch when you’re meant to be preparing for Capture the Flag?” he adds.
Shit.
I pivot to face him as he walks from the room. “Sorry, team bonding skipped my mind. Thank you for the reminder.”
“You’re not going to miss it, are you?” He raises a brow. “It’s for partners, too. So make sure Rome joins us. I wouldn’t want to keep you two lovebirds apart any longer than necessary.”
“What a blessing.” My tone is brittle. “I promise I’ll be there.” But I’ll be keeping the details to myself. Rome and I need to maintain a wide birth. “I just need to make a call, then get changed.”
“Great.” He claps his hands together. “I’m not ashamed to admit I want the extra exposure to your boyfriend. The more he gets to know our team, the more inclined he’ll be to contract us for the sale of those Bellefont condos.”
Perfect. That’s exactly what I need added to this weekend—my employer trying to seduce the man who is fake seducing me.
“I’ll see you soon.” I retrieve my cell and march away as I dial my brother’s number. If anyone can drag Rome into line, it’s him.
“You calling to admit defeat already?” Rett says in greeting.
“No, but you need to put your business partner on a leash. What he’s doing is above and beyond the call of duty.”
“It’s a shame I’m not there to see it.”
For once, I thought Everett would be on my side with the whole friendship boundaries and little sister angle. The last thing I need is them teaming up. “Don’t be a jerk.”
“Come on, Piper. You can’t tell me you didn’t anticipate him taking full advantage of the situation. He loves messing with you.”
“And I love messing with him… I just didn’t expect him to disregard decency at a work event.”
“What’s he done that lacks decency?”
“What hasn’t he done?” I scoff. “For starters, he kissed me.”
“And?”
“There needs to be an and?” That was my whole case in point. The cherry on top of this shit-show sundae.
“Piper.” My name is a weary chastisement. “He’s meant to be your boyfriend. I would’ve assumed kissing was a prerequisite.”
I clench the cell tighter, bringing it directly in front of my mouth. “Fake boyfriend, Rett. This is meant to be pretend.”
“How do you know the kiss wasn’t?”
“Maybe because his mouth was all up in mine. We weren’t playing charades, brother.”
“I think I understand the problem.” He laughs, the sound grating my ears. “You thought he would be an imaginary boyfriend—one who isn’t necessarily around to participate and function in public. But the agreement was a fake boyfriend, little sis. That means all the bells and whistles without the emotion.”
“What I expected was the title without the grabby hands.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, attempting to stem my building headache. “Now I’m not sure what the hell I’m meant to do.”
“And you’re asking me? Nobody is better at diffusing his charm than you. Turn the tables and counter his exceptionally efficient manipulation.”
“He’s not exceptionally efficient. He just has no concern for my current employment.”
“So he’s being disrespectful? Rude? Aggressive?” The laughter leaves his voice.
“Worse. He’s overly sexual, nauseatingly charismatic, and flawlessly confident.”
“You can’t fault him for being himself.”
“I can and I will.” The line falls silent, a subtle sign from my sibling to take a moment and rethink my theatrics. “He’s my closest friend, Rett, and he kissed me. I’m sure you can understand how awkward that makes things.”
“Only if you place feelings behind it. Or think he is. Is that the case?”
“Of course not.” I answer too quickly. But it’s the truth. The tingle and tumble of my insides is a residual effect of my teenage years. And Rome has never had more than surface-level sexual interest in any woman.
“Well then, the answer is simple—beat him at his own game. Hit him where it hurts.”
“I’m more than willing to whack him in the nuts. Believe me. I just don’t think it will help.”
“I’m talking about fighting fire with fire,” he drawls. “Rome might be confident when he’s the one in charge, but he sure as shit shrivels when a woman tries to take over.”
I raise a brow.
My brother could be right. Rome hates forthright women. Clingy women.
Being the instigator might be the strategy I need to shove his cocky attitude through the shredder. “I like that idea.”
“Make the first move. Gush over him. Address him with cringy nicknames in front of a crowd.”
I start down the hall, smiling to myself as confidence infiltrates my veins. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.” I stop in front of the elevators and press the button. “Thanks, Rett.”
“Good luck.”
I disconnect the call as an elevator opens and struggle to contain my grin while I make my way to the third floor.
Rome has already thrown everything at me—kissing, touching. There are very few aces that could be left up his sleeve.
It’s my turn to swing a few punches.
I’m in a full-blown power trip by the time I enter the suite, my strut smooth, my chin overly high. But he’s not in sight to see it.
The bathroom door is closed, the shower running.
What a waste of a good strut.
I change into my swimsuit while I have the isolation, and drag on a red floral sundress over the top. I’m sitting on the bed, reading a text from Pete that gives staff a five-minute reminder about Capture the Flag, when the shower shuts off.
I’m running out of time. I need food to get me through the team-building misery.
I push from the mattress and make my way to the bathroom door, my knuckles poised to knock when Rome murmurs my name from inside.
I pause, my hand frozen an inch from the barrier between us.
Can he see my feet in the tiny slip of light under the door? Is he disregarding the suite rules by beckoning me to walk in on him, half-naked and glistening?
I’m not going to fall for it.
I can already picture him standing in front of a foggy mirror, a towel around his hips, his chest completely bare.
“Fuck, Piper.” His tone is guttural.
I stiffen.
“Piper.” There’s turmoil in his voice.
Is he hurt?
I snatch at the handle and yank open the door. “Are you—”
My sentence dies. A part of my soul does, too.
It’s exactly like I predicted. He stands in front of a partly fogged mirror, his skin glistening. But there’s no towel. There’s absolutely nothing at all that stands between my eyes and the profile view of him gripping his hard cock.
“I…” I meet his gaze in the mirror.
Big mistake. Such a fucking huge error in judgement.
His dark eyes don’t mimic my horror. What stares back at me is hunger. Desire.
“I’m sorry.” I scramble backward and slam the door shut.
A scuffle of noise carries from inside the bathroom. “Piper, stop.”
I don’t. I rush for the suite entry on some sort of unhinged autopilot.
“I thought you were making calls and having lunch,” he hollers.
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” My entire body breaks out in a sheen of sweat as I escape into the hall. “I’m late for a game of Capture the Flag. I’ll see you later.”
“Piper!”
CHAPTER 6
Piper
I get my ass out of there. Stat.
With a heart skipping from arrhythmia and a mind fried from mortification, I make my way to the foyer. I can’t stop the mental rerun that plays on a constant loop. I can’t get it out of my head. His body. His cock. The way he called my name.
I spin in a slow circle, frantic to find a colleague to hide behind in case he follows. But there’s no one. Not a single soul to save me.
I should march to the reception desk and beg for another room. A valium. A body bag.
Any of the above would be great right now.
“Where are your shoes?” Max asks from somewhere close.
I blink through the masturbation re-run daze and look down to confirm I’m barefoot. Shit.
“Forget your sneakers?” He nudges my elbow against his. “Or do you plan on skipping the game and heading to the pool for a swim?”
“Can I ditch the swimming and skip right to drowning?”
He laughs. “It sounds like you enjoy team building as much as I do.”
Oh, God, what the hell am I going to do?
I won’t be able to look at Rome again. At least not without picturing an erection.
“Come on. Let’s get this shit over and done with.” Max links our arms. “Or are you waiting for Rome?”
“No.” The dismissal comes too quick. Too panicked. “He’s not coming.”
Is that correct though, Piper? It looked like he was pretty close to doing exactly that when you walked in on him.
“Everything okay?” Max gives me a side-eye glance. “You’re very…pink.”
I’m fucking flushed. Head to toe. Inside and out.
The exact opposite of okay.
I’m on such a unique level of not-okay-ness that I require my own brand-spanking-new dictionary definition. One which outlines the mortification of having your best friend’s hard dick permanently tattooed onto your retinas, with your name written all over it.
“Piper?” Max frowns.
“I’m great. I’m great. I’m great.” I’m floundering.
It has to have been a joke, right?
A really, really bad one that crossed every line imaginable.
“Come on.” Max tugs me through the foyer and outside to the grassed area where colleagues and partners stand listening to Pete recite game rules.
We pause at the edge of the gathering closest to the building, but I’m too busy glancing over my shoulder, waiting for Rome to come after me.
“I’m going to stand on the other side,” I whisper, extricating my arm from Max’s. “I’ll see you on the playing field.”
He continues to frown at me as I sneak away.
“It should be a relatively fast and fun game,” Pete announces.
I pause behind a tall guy from the Newport Beach office and chance a glance at the doors leading to the foyer.
Shit.
Rome strides outside, freshly dressed in a polo shirt and khaki pants, his gaze meeting mine.
I look away, my throat tightening, my stomach doing a pirouette.
“The winning team gets their choice of treatment from the resort spa,” Pete adds.
“What are the teams?” I call out, hoping for an excuse to stay away from Mr. Masturbator.
“Office against office.”
Fuck. “Wouldn’t it be better if we mixed teams and competed against our significant others?” I ask.
Rome skirts the crowd, closing in.
“We’re always competing against the other office.” I’m clutching at straws. Nobody else cares about the game or the spa treatment. From the glowers of frustration turning my way, all anyone wants is the shortest delay from returning to the bar as possible.
“It’s just a suggestion,” I mutter as everyone returns their attention to Pete.
Rome stops mere inches behind me, his proximity awakening my skin in a wash of goose bumps. “You can attempt to delay this all you like,” he murmurs near my ear. “But we’re going to talk about what happened.”
