Fake, page 13
“It’s okay, Nathan. It really is. I was aware of the risks.”
Mostly because this particular risk comes in the shape of a close friend, but I’ll explain that uncomfortable little coincidence later, after I’ve told her to stop talking about him on her blog and he’s less angry. Bringing it up now feels…complicated.
We finish dinner and he pays the bill, then stops to chat with his aunt and uncle. They’re the kind of people who feel like sunshine, like Mason, like Angela. I lean close to Nathan just to be close to them, wondering if I’ll ever feel like sunshine for someone else.
Nathan says his goodbyes, then walks me to his car, one hand placed firmly on my lower back as he always does. Over the last few weeks, I’ve grown used to the warmth of his palm, the gentle pressure, the intimacy of his touch.
I know I shouldn’t like it.
But I do.
A lot.
We step into a glorious evening and Nathan slides his palm from my back to take my hand. The moon is full and the air is warm, the breeze caressing my skin as it moves through my hair.
“This is my favorite time of day,” I say, watching the stars shimmer and shine. “When it’s dark out but the energy is high. Expectant. There’s no pressure to be or do or conform, but there’s this…anticipation…like anything could happen. One minute, you’re living your life and the next, everything’s different.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence. Then another. One more and I start to feel judged. Why did I think Nathan would care about my favorite time of day? What’s more, why do I want to share that bit of myself with him? This relationship is transactional. It’s not real. Getting emotionally involved is a mistake.
But then he stops, tugs my hand to turn me around, then pulls me close, slipping one arm around my waist and nuzzling my nose with his. The look in his eyes is bright, like the moon, filled with promises and anticipation, and maybe he cares more than I thought.
Maybe this isn’t an act.
Maybe he’s falling.
And I’m falling.
Maybe we aren’t faking it.
Maybe, somewhere along the line, this started to become real.
“What are you—”
Nathan tips my chin and brushes his lips to mine. I return the kiss, helpless, hopeless, tentative then insistent. I grip his back as he cups the nape of my neck, his tongue teasing my lips, then meeting my own. He tastes of whiskey but feels like fire, ready to devour me until there’s nothing left but smoke and ash and this one perfect moment.
I groan, relaxing into his strong embrace. Humidity hangs in vaporous clouds around us, softening the moonlight. Crickets chirp and someone opens the door to the bar, letting a rush of laughter escape before silence descends around us.
This is another one of those things I don’t want to like.
But I do. Oh, but I do.
His touch is strong yet gentle, confident without being demanding. His tongue dances in luxurious circles and I’m melting. Relenting. Walls come down and barriers shift. Our kiss is filled with the anticipation of endless possibilities, matching the energy of the night, without pressure or expectation. My nipples pebble and my core clenches and I was so not prepared for how much I like kissing Nathan West.
This isn’t fake. The attraction is real. His. Mine. I’m losing control of this entire situation and…
A throat clears beside us. “Wow, Nathan. In a parking lot? Classy.”
Nathan freezes, pulls back a fraction of an inch, his hand still cupping the nape of my neck as he turns to grin sheepishly at his cousin Angela and her husband whose name I’ve completely forgotten.
“Oh, Angela…” Nathan says with a sarcastic chuckle. “I’m feeling genuinely sorry for Garrett.”
Ah. Yes. Garrett. I commit the name to memory while Angela furrows her brows and leans into her husband.
“And why is that?” she asks with a pout.
“Don’t you remember being so overcome with passion that you don’t care where you are or who can see? You’ve obviously let the fire burn down.”
Garrett throws an arm around Angela’s shoulders and pulls her close. “There’s no need to feel sorry for me. Our fire is doing just fine.”
Nathan dips his chin and shows his palms. “I’m just saying.”
His hair falls into his eyes again and his grin comes fast and easy. This is the real version of him. I know it. The villain is a mask. I wonder how hard it would be to help him remove it…
Angela studies her cousin’s face, grinning incredulously. “You know, I’ve been hearing all these stories about how much happier you look now that you’re with Mina and I have to say, I didn’t think it was true. But look at him,” she says to Garrett. “There’s not a glare or a growl anywhere. That might even be an actual smile. It’s amazing what falling in love with the right person can do.”
Angela pokes Nathan’s cheeks and he ducks out of reach. “It’s a little early to be talking about love.”
His gaze locks onto mine and a jolt of electricity blasts through my veins. His eyes are storm-thrashed, filled with…longing? Loathing? I don’t even know.
“Yeah, for you,” Angela retorts, “but as an interested third party, I can point out the obvious without making it too weird. And maybe this leads to a conversation that will deepen your relationship and growly Nathan might be gone for good.”
The look on her face suggests she thinks I’m a saint or miracle worker. I better set her straight before she expects more than I can deliver. “I promise you; he still glares and growls and snorts…”
“I do not snort,” Nathan says, following the statement up with a derisive snort while the rest of us burst into laughter.
“That was just bad timing,” he says, trying to look serious, but giving in to a chuckle.
“Bad timing, perfect timing, potato, po-tah-to.” Angela bumps her shoulder against Nathan’s. “You know we love you, right?”
“Is that what you call it? Because I’ve been a little iffy.” Nathan wraps an arm around my waist. He’s relaxed. His boundaries are down. His whole vibe is warm and inviting without a frozen barbed wire to be found. I could fall in love with this version of him.
If only he’s willing to take off the mask…
“Are you guys coming or going?” Angela asks with a bob of her head toward the entrance to The Pact.
“Going.” Nathan’s thumb traces my hip, and a tremble of excitement clenches my core.
“Oh, I see, that make out moment was the lead-in to a night of passion—”
“You really could use a filter, you know?” Nathan puts his hands on Angela’s shoulders and turns her towards the entrance of The Pact. “Why don’t you go inside before you ruin the moment more than you already have.”
“Going. Going!” She pivots, walking backwards as her husband guides her. “Hey! We’re taking the boat out tomorrow. You two should come with us. I need to get to know the woman who’s putting Humpty Dumpty back together again.”
Nathan huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “We’ll be there, as long as you promise never to say something like that again.”
After Angela and Garrett disappear into the restaurant, Nathan steps away from me. “I don’t even know what to say other than I am really, really sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I wave away the apology, my lips aching from his kiss. No. That’s not quite right. My lips are aching for his kiss.
I lick them in case that helps. “I’m fine to add an extra date to our schedule. It’s not like we’ve been sticking to our two-date agreement anyway.”
“What?” Nathan pulls back, confusion drawing his brows tight. “No. I mean yes, I’m sorry if I should have talked to you about going out tomorrow first. But I was apologizing for the kiss. I saw them coming and really wanted to sell us being in this relationship and I just kind of did it.”
Oh.
Right.
Obviously, that’s what I should be upset with him about.
The kiss.
Not a spur of the moment double date with his cousin.
“You don’t have to apologize for that,” I say, still a little breathless and hoping he doesn’t notice. “I mean, it was going to happen eventually, right?”
“Right. I just, wasn’t prepared for it to be…” He rakes a hand across his mouth and my brain rapid fires ways to finish that sentence.
Amazing?
Hot?
Intense?
The start of a torrid affair I’ll tell stories about from my rocking chair when I’m eighty?
“For it to be today,” he finally says.
“At least we got it out of the way.” I laugh and it comes out all high-pitched and awkward.
Dear God. Kill me now. Yours truly, Mina Blake.
“Exactly. Now we know what to expect.” Nathan clears his throat, his eyes darting towards his car, plotting his escape.
“Right. Now we know.” I nod decisively, then let my gaze creep up his handsome face to find him glaring down at me. “You’re pretty good at that, you know. Kissing.”
A smile quirks his lips and he tilts his head my way. “You know what? So are you, HM. So are you.”
After tonight I know one thing for sure:
I really, really like kissing Nathan West.
NINETEEN
Nathan
What the hell was that kiss? Mina’s fingers threading into my hair, her breasts pressing against my chest. Her lips were supple and soft but stoked the fire we lit at the pool table.
I ruminate over it the entire drive home, then some more as the garage door closes behind me and I let myself into the house. My cock throbs and shudders. I pause, leaning against the kitchen counter to give it a moment to remember who we’re talking about here.
This is Mina Blake. My interior designer. Hot Mess Extraordinaire. We have a business relationship. Nothing more.
Except it sure feels like more. Like I can talk to her about anything and she’ll listen. Like she sees through the stupid barbed wire I’ve wrapped around my heart to the man I used to be. Like she wants to help me be that man again. And when I’m with her, I want to be that man again.
Except I’m paying her to date me for shit’s sake.
And I promised I’d cut a check for it tomorrow.
Sure, most of the money is for her design services, but there’s a financial aspect to our relationship that I can’t ignore. It’s a devil on my shoulder, whispering, ridiculing…
I’m struck by the memory of Mina’s shocked face at Red Stiletto the day I proposed this crazy idea.
No, she said, that’s prostitution and trust me. We’re fine. You don’t have to worry about us having sex. Ever.
But, when my hands met Mina’s waist tonight, she pulled me closer and held me tight. Nothing about her said no and everything about her said yes…
Said every rapist ever.
My eyes blink open and I push off the counter.
What the fuck, man?
What’s going on with me?
And for that matter, if a little contractual flirting turns me on this much, how in the hell will I handle Mina in a bathing suit tomorrow—with even more contractual flirting on tap? If our next kiss includes skin on skin contact…
Maybe she isn’t a bikini kind of woman.
Maybe she’s into the sleek black one-pieces favored by athletes.
Or better yet, considering her vintage vibe, maybe she’ll show up in one of those turn of the century deals that covers every inch of her body…
Right. And maybe Dom will text tomorrow to inform me he’s entering a monastery and completely approves of my choices of late.
I am so fucking screwed.
I pour myself a drink, assistance to get Mina off my mind.
The whiskey goes down smooth. Too smooth to drown the thoughts of her, so I pour myself another. No help there, either. I place the empty glass in the sink and head upstairs for a shower, but she’s waiting for me there, too. On her knees. Lips pink and parted as she beckons me forward. I blink away the image as I crank on the water and strip, but my dick has a different idea. As water sluices down my face, my chest, my abs, I imagine her lips wandering the same path, kissing and licking and staring up at me with those fucking baby blues. I take myself in my hand, rolling my palm over my crown, tilting my head back in ecstasy.
In my mind, Mina smiles and takes me to the back of her throat and then I’m pumping and shuddering and fuck, my fist in her hair, those perfect tits bouncing as she sucks me, moaning and groaning and oh damn she’s glorious. Pull her to her feet and bend her over. Slap that ass and spread her thighs, then bury myself balls deep as water pelts her back, my chest. Her hand pressed against the cool tile, steam gathering around us, her pussy clenching and quivering and fuck fuck fuck! She’s screaming my name, her voice breaking as it echoes off the bathroom walls.
My fist pumps and my breath speeds and then I’m coming harder than I remember and all I see are blue eyes, soft skin, and hair so black it’s like midnight over the water…
The light blazing through my window is unforgiving. One eye cracks open, then the other, then the icepick inserted at my temple does a viciously twisting dance. After my self-love extravaganza last night, I had another drink. To wash away the shame, I said. Drunk and disorderly me continued to wander back to thoughts of Mina. Some about sex, others about what life would be like if our relationship was real. So I had another.
I cover my face with my hands and groan.
The shame is still there and has joined forces with a righteous hangover that pounds against my skull. I know better than to listen to drunk Nathan. He does stupid shit.
Dragging my palms down my face, I press up on my elbows and take stock.
Headache? Check.
Nausea? Not as bad as it could be.
Grumpy as fuck? That’s an affirmative.
I check my phone and find a text from Dom.
Dom
Thought I warned you about dating down
wtf you talking about
That blogger told the world about your interior designer/girlfriend. When are you gonna learn it’s better if you just take my advice?
Don’t worry, though
Dr. Dom to the rescue
Come out with me tonight
Can’t.
Why?
Her?
Yep
I’m telling you brother, you’re making a mistake on this one.
She ask you for money yet?
Fuck this shit. I don’t have it in me for this conversation.
I chug coffee then shave and get dressed before stopping in the office to cut Mina a check. My teeth grind as I sign the damn thing.
No. That’s prostitution…
She ask you for money yet?
Is this who I am now? A man who pays for a relationship? A man who ignores his friend’s advice while the warning signs he’s pointing out flash in my face?
I’m aware of the check’s presence in my pocket as I make the drive to Mina’s apartment. I pull into the parking lot, grimacing as I bump over one of many potholes dotting the crumbling concrete, then park beside her ancient Honda. Considering I know exactly how much her design services are worth, her living arrangements confound me. She should have a nice home, a new car, designer clothes. Instead, she lives in the cheapest apartment in a fifty-mile radius and asked me for an advance just last night. It doesn’t add up. Is Dom right? Is she using me for my money? Is everything I’m starting to feel for her predicated on a lie?
Her shitty living situation makes me even grumpier.
“Pull yourself together,” I growl, then kill the engine and sigh, closing my eyes tightly. Unfortunately, shower Mina is waiting, smiling that sultry smile and reminding me how willing I am to cross the boundaries I put up for my own protection. Maybe I’m more of a villain than I want to admit. Lifting my sunglasses, I give my face a quick scrub, then head for her porch and ring the bell.
“Good morning!” Mina exclaims as she throws open the door, her face falling when she sees me. “Oh no. What’s wrong?”
“Long night,” I mutter, trying to conjure a dismissive smile and failing. Her neighbor’s door creaks open as Mina steps outside to lock up.
“Good morning, Ms. Markowitz!” Mina calls brightly to a woman who could be anywhere between fifty and a hundred and twenty, clutching a cat in one hand and a coffee mug in the other.
“You’re awfully chipper for someone who had to listen to the Dietzes fight all night.” The woman’s eyes light on me and a knowing smile twists her lips. “Though I’d be chipper too, if I had someone like that knocking on my door.”
Mina blushes. “If it’s not the Dietzes, it’s Marius revving his engine or the frat boys coming home drunk and trying to break down my door because they forgot which apartment is theirs. I just tune out the noise.”
Ms. Markowitz sits on her top step and arranges the cat in her lap. The feline closes his eyes and lifts his face to the sun like the light isn’t an icepick twisting son of a bitch. “I wish I could be as chill about it as you,”
“She shouldn’t be that chill about it,” I retort, teeth grinding. “She shouldn’t have to deal with it at all. Neither should you. I don’t know what you did to end up in a place like this…”
But you deserve so much more, I finish in my head while Mina’s eyebrows raise and her jaw sets.
“Maybe you should worry more about your life choices and less about mine.” Her tone is a warning shot. She’s not a fan of my mood or what I have to say.
Yeah, well, neither am I. And it’s her fault I feel this way.
“Maybe if you weren’t surrounded by assholes, I could do that.” I lift a hand at Ms. Markowitz. “No offense.”
“None taken. I have to like someone to care about their opinion,” she replies with a sweet smile before giving her attention back to her cat.
