I saw a scar on my stomach from when I got my appendix out.
A bit of cellulite on my thighs.
Breasts that were too big for my taste.
And a stomach that was only flat because I was sucking it in.
“Reid, this night stopped being fun about five seconds ago.”
He ignored me. “Soft . . . perfect . . . supple skin.” He ran his fingers down my ribs. “Breasts that render a man incapable of focusing on anything else.” He shook his head, his breathing heavier as his mouth landed near my ear. “And hips that my hands itch to grip, to thrust into . . . A lights-off girl? Hell, no. You’re a spotlight girl. You just need to stop looking through your eyes and use mine.”
I choked back the emotion in my throat. Things went from playful to real in that moment, and I wasn’t sure I could handle it if he didn’t really mean it. If it was fake.
“I think I like what you see better,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” He kissed the top of my head. “Well, I played a plastic surgeon once and I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
“Well, that basically makes you an expert.”
“Right?” he teased. “And I’m sorry . . . if I overstepped my bounds . . . you know, trying to have sex with you, forcing you to stare at yourself naked while I lusted even more after your body. But I’m a firm believer in truth and I couldn’t for one more second let you believe a lie.”
Insert swoon here.
They actually happen in real life.
I’d read about them in novels. Made fun of the girls whose knees buckled when their men puked out such romantic words that they had no choice but to collapse into their arms.
My knees knocked together. “T-thank you.”
“Bed.” Reid nodded to the door. “Like I said, I won’t pressure you. Go sleep, read your damn book, and . . . sorry things got . . . crazy. It won’t happen again. I know we’re supposed to have boundaries, so—”
In my mind my next movements weren’t jerky or uncertain, they were fluid, sexy, hot, and unstoppable as I launched myself at his body, pushing us both into the general direction of the bedroom.
With a heave, Reid caught my flying ass, midair. We fell back against his mattress. A hard book caught his fall while throw pillows went careening by my face.
“Oof,” Reid huffed. “That was . . . unexpected.”
“You okay?” I winced.
“Sure thing.” He nodded. “The book broke my spleen, but I think I can still perform if I try not to breathe.”
I covered my mouth with my hands to keep from bursting out laughing. “I’m so sorry! I just . . . reacted.”
“I’m glad.” He winced. “Really. I’m a huge fan of the sneak-up-and-pounce attack. I just didn’t take into account hard surfaces on my bed.”
More laughter escaped from my lips.
“You won’t be laughing when you have to take me to the hospital because you landed on me wrong.”
I stopped laughing as a visual of having to take Reid to the hospital and explain how he got his injuries crossed my mind.
“Yeah, explain that to the doctor. Believe me, they aren’t very understanding downtown. Last time I visited a hospital, it was—”
He stopped talking.
“Do continue,” I urged, still hovering over him in attack mode.
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I do have a question, though.”
“What?”
“Since I’ve seen you naked, does that mean I get to shower with you and cop a feel whenever I want?”
“How cute, you really are a pubescent teen with headgear. Quick, give me a rose!”
Reid gasped. “Take it back!”
“Never!”
He reached around and started tickling my sides while I threw a pillow at his face and tried to escape. He tugged me back against his body while an angry Max shouted, “Sleeping here!”
“Jealous?” Reid called back.
“Where is his fiancée?”
“She has late class on Friday nights.”
I turned. “You know her schedule.”
“Every other night I have to wear earplugs. Damn right I know her schedule.”
“Every other night, huh?”
Reid grinned.
I burst out laughing. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes.” He nodded, then threw me a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that were folded on his chair. “I better get more wine.”
“Okay.”
“Oh.” Reid stopped and snapped his fingers. “Also, giving you clothes when I want you to live every day naked—not easy.”
“Go!” I laughed.
When Reid returned with more wine, I knew I made the right choice. Maybe we were better just . . . being us and not ruining things by having sex.
After all, when this was all over with.
He’d be famous.
And I’d be back to blending in with the wallpaper.
CHAPTER TWENTY
REID
I held the door open for Jordan as we walked out into the hall and waited for the elevator.
My hand flew to my face as I covered up a huge yawn and took a sip of coffee. It had been a long night.
We’d nearly burned down the building with the hot sex we weren’t actually having.
After seeing her naked, I was surprised I was actually able to say no to real sex and yes to fake sex, but the moment was off. Well, that, and there was the whole she’s technically a coworker/boss/has my career by the balls. Then again, it would be worth it. She would be worth it. Visions of her body still hammered through my skull like a hangover from hell.
It went like this.
Ass, hips, breasts, repeat.
Over and over and over again until I almost blurted it out and tossed her against the wall and had my way with her.
Max’s yelling from the other room ended up killing that idea anyway, and Jordan had a much better idea. Drive him insane, just like he was driving us insane. Give the evil genius a taste of his own medicine.
Hell, yeah.
“Was it good for you?” Jordan joked, her eyes were wide with amusement, long black eyelashes blinking up at me. Damn, she was pretty.
“Best fake sex I’ve ever had.” I struggled not to stumble over the word sex considering my body was still ready to explode. We’re all lucky she didn’t have to take cover.
Ha, that’s just what I needed to be known as, exploding penis man. Awesome.
She stole my coffee and took a big gulp—she’d finished hers an hour ago. “I think the moose sounds and banging coconuts really upped our game toward the end there.”
“Huh.” I jerked my coffee back, careful not to touch her fingers since wanting to explode from the sheer need to be inside her was making my blood pump in all the wrong places. “I was thinking that the real sweet spot was when you started yodeling.”
Jordan blew across her nails and sighed. “Gosh, I just love a good yodel.”
The door to Max’s apartment flew open, then slammed as he shuffled toward us. He reached into his pocket, his hand flailing until he finally gripped his sunglasses and managed to get them on his nose after three more attempts.
All was quiet and then Jordan asked, “Tired?”
Slowly, Max slid his sunglasses down his nose, his eyes bloodshot red. “Yodeling, really?”
“Hey, when a man like Reid sticks it to you, what other choice do you have?”
I choked on my coffee and started coughing wildly while Jordan pounded my back. Shit, it was going to be a long day. She said stick. My anatomy liked that phrase way more than it should.
Max cursed under his breath. “Oh, I don’t know, how about anything but yodeling and purring. And screaming, ‘Reid Emory is a god’ probably wasn’t necessary either, nor was the incessant wall banging. Pop-pop’s picture fell from its spot on the mantel and shattered into a million pieces.” He shook his head violently. “He’d be so ashamed.”
I rolled my
eyes. “Pop-pop grew up in the Vegas. Highly doubt he’d be all that surprised.”
“Seventeen times,” Max hissed under his breath. “Seventeen times that jezebel”—he yelled it, peering around me and thrusting his finger into the air—“shouted your name at the top of her lungs. Have you no shame?” He pulled some breath spray from his pocket and squirted it in his mouth. “I half expected you to go hoarse.”
“Not hoarse yet, though the day’s still young.” Jordan winked. I kept calm on the outside, while internally my horny self threw a freaking parade.
“People work.” Max sniffed. “And luckily my fiancée will be back tonight, so we’ll see who keeps up who.”
“Whom,” she corrected.
Max lunged for her, but I stepped between them.
She shot Max a confident smile. “It’s a good thing Reid’s so accommodating, letting me stay with him until who knows how long?” Insert fake laugh. “Maybe invest in some earplugs, Max, since our sexuality clearly offends you.”
“Now see here!” Max huffed. “It’s not the sexuality that offends . . . I have all the sex, all the time, or I used to, until you showed up with your offensive hair and killer shoes.” He stared at her heels. “Damn, I may despise you, but your taste in shoes is incredible.” Max’s eyes went clear with respect, then clouded with anger all over again. “What was I saying? The heel distracted me. Hell, I love it when Becca wears heels.” He got a starry look in his eyes, then cursed. “No sex just may kill me. Reid,” he said, turning to me. “Promise me you’ll take care of the goat.”
“You have a goat?” Jordan crossed her arms. “Is his name Billy?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Like I would ever be that unoriginal.”
“So?” she asked. “What’s his name?”
“I see what you’re doing here.” Max’s eyes narrowed. “NO, we will not be friends. Ever! Never, ever! Not even by way of my goat!”
“Chill, I’m not kidnapping your goat.” She laughed. “Get it, kid-napping?”
“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious!” Max shouted. “Now go be funny away from my brother so I can continue engaging in all sexual activity.”
“Nah, think I’ll stay . . . maybe forever.”
Max’s eye started to twitch behind his glasses.
“Eyelash in your eye, brother? Or is Jordan’s condition wearing off?”
He shoved his glasses up his nose. “No. Just a bit of dirty slut.”
“What was that?”
“Dirt and mud,” he said slowly. “And I know what you two are doing. I won’t stand for it. Two can play this game.”
“Yeah, but only two will win.” Jordan nodded. “And by the sounds coming from our apartment and the silence coming from yours, well . . .”
Max scowled. “I had no partner!”
“Still lost.” Jordan shrugged. “You do know that only winners get prizes, right?”
“You.” Max pointed his finger in her direction just as the elevator doors opened. “I may have underestimated you.”
“That’s a compliment,” I mused.
“It’s all you’re getting!” Max yelled. “Also, thought you guys might want to check this out.” He tossed his cell in the air. I caught it and looked at the screen: REID EMORY TAMES PUBLICIST #THEARCH.
“What’s that?” Jordan looked over my shoulder.
I shoved the phone in my pocket. “Nothing.”
“Dude, not your phone.” Max held out his hand.
Panicking, I wasn’t sure what to do.
Max decided for me when he shoved his hand in my pocket, missing my balls by only a centimeter, and snatched his phone back, then read aloud what I’d just read silently as to not piss Jordan off and send her and her hair on a witch hunt through the city in which she tried to confiscate all forms of technology.
“I’m a hashtag,” she said in a monotone voice.
“Cheer up.” Max grinned. “It could be worse.”
I opened my mouth, but Jordan smacked me in the chest. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
The elevator hit the bottom floor. Max waved. “Toodles. Have fun at work today, kids. Try to play nice. Oh.” He snapped his fingers and turned. “Also, Jordan you may have flashed some boob in that video, but don’t worry, I highly doubt anyone will notice.”
Jordan lunged.
I jerked her back by her purse.
“Let me at him,” she seethed.
“That’s what he wants . . . you to chase him so he can record it and put it on YouTube with the hashtag #hairchasesmandownstreet.”
Jordan touched her hair. “Hey, it’s in a bun today.”
“Putting your hair in a bun is like wearing tight pants on Thanksgiving. Eventually the stuffing’s gonna pop right on out.”
“Wow, should have saved that romance for the video.”
“Unfair! You’re just pissed because I was right and because you did arch, you little archer!”
“I was sitting at a weird angle!”
“So you arched ten times beneath my touch? Because of the angle of your ass?”
Jordan’s eyes went crazy as a stray hair spiked up out of her bun. “I’m so glad I didn’t have sex with you last night, because I’d so be regretting it this morning.”
My body tensed while both my heads screamed, “Abort, abort!” Arguing with her meant no sex, no naked time, no Jordan, but words just kept pouring out of my mouth. It was an out-of-body experience. Like watching myself dig the hole I was going to be buried in. I wanted to stop, but jump I did. “Honey, the only thing you’d be regretting is that I wouldn’t be giving you a repeat performance!”
“Like you could even perform without injuring yourself!”
The dirt piled over my head, I could barely see the sky, yet I continued digging the hole because my manhood was at stake even though I wanted her—desperately. She attacked my sexual prowess—nobody does that to an Emory, least of all me. “You’re just mad because you didn’t get an orgasm!”
Yeah, may have said that a bit loud.
At least ten phones were thrust in our direction, smiles on people’s faces. Great, glad I made their Saturday morning!
Jordan swallowed, then looked shyly around while I cursed and searched for my sunglasses.
“Ten bucks orgasm’s the new hashtag by noon,” Jordan said under her breath, grabbing me by the arm and jerking me into the outside air.
“Twenty.” I coughed uncomfortably and looked up and down the street, anywhere but directly at her face.
“Reid.” Jordan snapped her fingers in front of me, like you would do to a dog when you were trying to teach it a new trick. I’d be insulted if I wasn’t still so sexually frustrated that my eyes lingered a bit too long on the hot dog stand. It was like a gentle reminder that my hot dog should be doing no standing, none at all. “We’re adults. We can get through this. I only have a few more things scheduled for us over the next few days and then I think we’ll be past the worst of it. This little . . . thing will be done.”
For some reason that made that stupid heartburn come back full force. I cleared my throat and clenched my jaw. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“So, maybe you should actually find an apartment, since there will no longer be any need for us to be working such crazy hours together.” What the hell was I saying? If she moved out, what would happen? I’d no longer be able to hear her toss and turn at night, or face her in the morning and share a pot of coffee. I froze. Wait. What the hell. Was I in a relationship? My body started to shake a bit. Would I miss her? Was that the issue?
Her face fell as she chewed the lipstick off her lower lip. Swear, it was physically impossible for the woman to keep anything on that pout of hers, not that I minded. Damn it, and now I was staring at her lips. “I’m working on it.”
“Work harder,” I said hoarsely, just needing her to get the hell away from me so I could think without her perfume making me want to take her into my arms and kiss the crap out of her.
She rol
led her eyes. “You’re an ass.”
“Not what you said last night.”
“I was inebriated!”
“You were naked!” My voice raised. So. Naked.
Ass, hips, breasts. Damn those breasts.
Another phone in the air.
“We really need to get this under control,” Jordan muttered as more people took pictures of us. “Look, you have an interview this evening for Sirius radio. I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up drunk, and make sure your shirt’s tucked in.”
“Oh, good, I’ll do that. Just make sure you don’t have any stains on your breasts so I don’t get distracted.”
“I’ll be sure to eat with a napkin tucked into my shirt.” She grinned wide.
“You know, they do hand out those bibs with little crabs on them over at the Crab Shack. Meet me there for dinner,” I blurted.
She fidgeted with the strap of her purse, her eyes downcast as if the idea of dinner made her uncomfortable. “Why?”
“Because,” I said, rocking back on my heels, “we both need to eat.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows scrunched together while her shoulders noticeably slumped.
“Look.” I ran my hands through my hair. “We’re both exhausted after keeping Max up all night with our fake sex. We need food and hydration, and everything will look better once all that happens. Let’s have dinner after my interview, on me.”
Jordan sighed and checked her watch. “Okay, that’s fine. I’m going to go meet with another client, then I’ll—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I held up my hands. “Other client?”
“Reid.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for this. Of course I have other clients.”
“Who is he?” I didn’t mean to yell. Not really. But yell I did.
She smirked. “Why? Jealous?”
“No.” Yes.
“And what makes you think it’s a he?”
“Is it?” Say no. Just. Say. No.
“It’s Casey Carter.” She pulled out her cell while my entire line of vision went hazy with red.
“Casey Carter?” I repeated. “Casey ‘Can’t Keep It in His Pants’ Carter?”