Counterfeit Kisses

by Cora York

  She arched into me, her breasts nudging my chest, her body molding into mine. What I wouldn’t give to feel her naked skin, feel her body writhe and shudder beneath mine.

  She ran her fingers up my back and plowed them through my hair. Fuck, I wanted to taste, bite, and lick every part of her.

  It’d been a long time since I’d wanted anyone like this. If ever.

  I skimmed kisses down her jawbone and over the exposed skin on her throat, her perfume coated my lips. The fabric of her sweater bunched up, and when I grazed my fingers along the curve of her waist, sparks shot up my arm, shocking my erratically beating heart.

  Barely suppressing a whimper, she broke away, confusion creasing her forehead. “I can’t. Not now. I have to do… the things.”

  “Things?” I continued to circle my fingertips over her waist.

  “Work things.” Blindly, she reached for the back of a chair and held on. “There’s too much to do. I don’t have time for—” she motioned between us, her wide eyes saying what her lips didn’t.

  “Don’t have time for what?” I raised my eyebrows in question.

  “Us. You. Whatever this is.” As if afraid to say more, she rolled her lips between her teeth and held them there.

  I brushed my lips over the shell of her ear, and whispered, “I have a feeling we’ll both have plenty of time for ‘whatever this is’ later.”

  “No. I can’t. We can’t.” Tessa moved back, and I dropped my hands from her waist. Disappointment seemed to flash across her face, but she quickly blinked it away, and with a tilt of her chin, her expression turned devious.

  “Because of the shitty weather, the cleaners can’t make it. You really want to help, then help me clean.”

  “You’re joking? Clean?” When I’d offered help, I’d meant I’d help manage the contractors and vendors. Help make sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to do. That I’d look at the fine details to make sure she had overlooked nothing.

  “You’re familiar with the concept, right? Mop, bucket, vacuum?”

  “I’m not a cleaner.”

  “You’re not a wedding planner, either.”

  “Ouch! I’ll look at the spreadsheets, the contracts.”

  “I don’t need that kind of help.” The finality in her voice told me now wasn’t the time to push things any further. If I wanted to make up for my behavior, the best thing to do would be to give her the help she’d asked for. “Unless you’re afraid of ruining your manicure, pretty boy.”

  “Pretty boy?” I scratched the two-day-old scruff on my chin with my clipped fingernails. “And here I was going for the rugged look. My team of stylists won’t be happy. I should fire them.”

  “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit—”

  “But the highest form of intelligence.” I wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to see the way her face lit up and how the worry line between her eyebrows softened when she relaxed.

  “You keep thinking that.”

  I laughed. “There’s research to prove it.”

  “If Oscar Wilde were alive, I’m sure he’d be thrilled about you quoting him in a drafty castle in Ireland.” She tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips, but she couldn’t stop the corners lifting. My stomach all but bottomed out at her happiness. In the space of two days, I’d witnessed her every emotion from anger to embarrassment to elation. All of which I’d been partly responsible for.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder and nodded toward the basement stairs. “The supply closet’s behind the kitchen. Have fun.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Without looking back, I strolled toward the basement stairs. Later on, when we were alone, I’d see what other emotions I could coax from her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tessa

  With Keegan off gathering cleaning supplies, I touched my fingers to my lips. His kiss. His touch. His hands. Yesterday’s kiss had woken my snoozing hormones, but today’s kiss had molded those hormones into a lust monster that was now beating at my chest.

  A shiver of anticipation worked its way around my nerve endings, linking them together until my entire body hummed. Maybe he wasn’t the arrogant jerk he pretended to be, but I didn’t need or particularly want the kind of help or advice he offered. What if he tried to bulldoze me and take over?

  There was no denying he had many more years of experience in successful event planning than I did, but Archer and Violet’s wedding was my problem to solve. I had to prove to myself I could fix this and that Shane stealing my money along with my dignity wasn’t the end of the world. And besides, what if Keegan’s seducing me was part of his plan? Being made a fool of again wasn’t a risk I could take.

  He reappeared, laden down with mops, brushes, buckets, and bottles of cleaning solution.

  “Happy now?”

  “If event planning doesn’t work out, you can always start your own cleaning business.” I focused my attention on his lips and held my breath. Would he kiss me again? Or would he do something more than kiss me? And did I want him to? I sighed inwardly. The answer to that was a big fat yes.

  An aura of self-assurance surrounded him. Everything from the way he walked, to the way he held himself, to his cheeky dimpled smile were all designed to make me want to rip off my underwear. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and I hoped he wanted me. All of me.

  He dropped everything to the floor, the crash booming around the foyer, and then toed a bucket filled with supplies my way.

  “Time to get stuck in.”

  I glanced at the bucket then toed it back toward him. “Start on the first floor.”

  “I’m not doing this on my own.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I’m going to strip—”

  “That’s something to look forward to.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Strip the beds. And when I’m done with them, I’m going to scrub and sweep the rooms. You need to dust and vacuum everything.”

  Keegan’s face turned as white as the snow outside. “There’re cobwebs over a hundred years old in this place. The spiders have probably mutated into beasts.”

  It seemed I’d inadvertently found Goliath’s weakness.

  He grimaced. “What if there’s a nest with thousands of baby spiders waiting to pounce?”

  “Seriously? You’ve read Harry Potter one too many times. I promise you Aragog and his colony of Acromantulas aren’t hiding in the attic waiting to eat you.” I could be nasty and insist he dust all the cobwebs and force him to face his phobia, or I could be nice… Relenting, I gave him a smile. “Fine, I’ll dust, but you’re in charge of the toilets.” I shuddered. “I can’t bring myself to clean them.”

  “Too good for it?”

  “You want to try your chances with the cobwebs, Spiderman?”

  He shrugged. “Fair point.”

  The phone in the front pocket of my jeans vibrated. I knew it was Barb texting before I even looked.

  FaceTime call canceled again. Violet at a party. Kill me now. Where’s Brendan with the wine list and dog food?

  Hopefully, Barb would stay in her room all day with Max and her friends Pinot and Noir. If she was out of the way for a while, Keegan and I would get a lot more achieved. I shot Brendan a text telling him the Queen requested an audience in her chambers.

  My phone vibrated again. What was it this time? Only the text wasn’t from Barb. It was from a number I didn’t recognize. A cold shower of dread washed over me.

  Not now. Please, God. Not now.

  Miss me, babe? Hope all the wedding plans are falling into place. Keep your eyes open for a wolf dressed as a lamb. S.

  What did he mean by that? My stomach twisted into a crown of barbed wire. “Everything okay?” Keegan gave me a concerned glance.

  “Fine. Everything’s great. Barb wants wine.”

  ****

  A few more contractors had battled the weather and arrived by midday. They’d have to work through the night, but by tomorrow all the rooms would have heat with functioning bat
hrooms. Plus, they’d plowed and salted the roads leading to the castle’s entrance, and if nothing else went wrong, the guests shouldn’t have much more than a few flight delays getting to the castle.

  I shoved Shane and whatever the hell he wanted to the back of my mind. Worrying about him showing up was a waste of time and would achieve nothing. I should tell the police, but what could they do? They couldn’t trace him through the text. The phone he’d texted from, like all his phones, was probably a burner. Something he could dispose of when it had served its purpose. Much like he’d disposed of me.

  The rest of the day passed in a cloud of dust and cleaning chemicals. The room I shared with Keegan was functional enough, but some of the other rooms hadn’t been used since Brendan closed the doors over a decade ago. Oak Castle should have been one of the busiest wedding destinations in Ireland, but the place was as broken as Brendan’s heart—such a shame. Everyone deserved love, and I hoped one day Brendan would find it again.

  By the time I reached the tower rooms, dusk had fallen. I set down my bucket of cleaning supplies and stretched out my aching back. Cleaning all day reminded me why I was allergic to the gym and exercise. Every muscle screamed from fatigue and overwork. A steaming, bubble bath was in my future, and this time, I’d drink a full bottle of wine.

  I heaved open the squeaking door and flicked on a light that cast a dim orange glow around the room. The small space held a twin bed and an overstuffed armchair that sat by a fireplace. Ribbons of cobwebs ticker-taped the blackened hearth and swayed in the chimney draft.

  A tornado of dust motes circled my feet and legs every time I moved. To air out the musty room, I opened a small window and inhaled the frosty air. A darkening sky silhouetted twisting trees, and the North Star shone beside an iridescent waxing moon.

  Until a few years ago, I’d wished on the first star I saw in the night sky, but I no longer believed in magic and miracles. Life had shown me that dreams and wishes never came true—at least not how you expected them too. I’d wished for true love and look how that had turned out.

  For the hundredth time, I checked my phone. Shane hadn’t texted again, but that meant nothing. The devious shit was planning something. Something that would cause me even more headaches.

  If I told Keegan about Shane, would he know what to do? Or would he think I was being dramatic, that an ex texting me, even if he was the one who’d ruined my life, was hardly something I needed to worry about?

  Keegan. I sighed. Another man causing me problems. A relationship with him would bring me trouble with a capital T. But, oh, those lips. Their touch and taste had stayed with me all day. A few more kisses from him wouldn’t be the end of the world. A few more kisses could help make the whole fake fiancé thing more realistic. After all, we were supposed to be besotted with each other. Besides, spending some quality time with Keegan might help me forget Shane and his games for a while.

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” Keegan’s deep lilt came from behind causing my heart to race. I smiled and glanced over my shoulder and saw him leaning against the threshold. Dust stains covered his t-shirt, and his hair was a disheveled mess. He’d never looked hotter.

  Rolled up sleeves exposed the sinewy muscles of his forearms, and I fought the impulse to run to him and beg him to lick me from head to toe.

  “You expecting a handsome prince to rescue you from your tower?”

  Yeah, you. “A girl can dream.”

  Keegan closed the door and sat on the unmade mattress. His blue eyes bright in the lamp-lit room. “You want to talk about what’s going on between us?”

  “A few kisses doesn’t mean anything’s going on between us.” I wanted to say I’d imagined getting down and dirty with you all day. That my lips still tingled. That not throwing myself on top of you took more willpower than I thought I could ever possess, but I stayed quiet, and an awkward silence stretched across the room.

  Keegan cleared his throat and watched me intently. “You can’t deny something’s pulling us together.”

  “It’s not that.” I hesitated for a few seconds before answering. “First… thanks for all of your help today. As for what’s between us. I’m not looking for anything serious. Been there, done that. I don’t want the heartache or the hassle again.”

  “There doesn’t have to be any heartache or hassle.” He leaned back on his elbows, opening his body to me. “What’s to stop us from enjoying ourselves while we’re here? No strings. No commitments or promises of forever.”

  “You think that’s a good idea?”

  “It’s a great idea.”

  The earth’s crust moved, sending shockwaves up my legs, and when Keegan reached for my hand, I willingly gave it. He looked perfect laying there with his hair sticking up at weird angles and a dust smudge on his cheek.

  “Aren’t you afraid it’ll mess things up even more?” I asked, taking a step forward. “We’re rivals. You don’t like me.”

  “We’re not rivals, and I do like you.” He sat up, lifted my hand to his mouth, then pressed his lips against my palm. “I can’t get you off my mind.”

  I swallowed hard. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “A very bad thing. A terrible, horrible, awful thing.”

  “Is there anything I can do to make my being on your mind a good thing?” One-night stands weren’t something I did, not anymore, but I’d made up my mind—I’d do it, or rather, I’d do him. Sex with the enemy could be a gigantic mistake, but I didn’t care. Not one bit.

  “I can think of a few things.” One at a time, he kissed my fingertips. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. But I can’t help myself. You’re too fucking sexy to resist.”

  I sucked in a breath and sat on the mattress beside him. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  “Nothing.” He eased me onto my back and gazed at me, his heavy-lidded eyes filled with lust. “I’ve imagined this moment all day.” He placed soft kisses on my neck, cheeks, and forehead. Everywhere but my lips.

  Staying locked in this room with him forever wouldn’t be a hardship, but if he didn’t kiss me soon, I would jump on top of him and pin him to the bed. The lust monster beating on my chest was ready to break through.

  My back bowed off the mattress, and a low moan sounded in my throat.

  “Want something?” he asked.

  “I’ll let you decide if I do or not.” Damn right I wanted something. I wanted—needed—him to rip my clothes off and kiss my nipples, my stomach, and then lower. But, oh, no, Mr. Patient had something else on his mind. He’d taunt and tease me until I lost my sanity. Maybe if I begged him, he’d do something other than torture me.

  “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. “Drive me insane and have me committed so you can take over?”

  He chuckled against my neck. The sound sending vibrations through every cell in my body. “A little frustrated?”

  “We’ve shared a bed. You’ve kissed me a few times. And it’s been a long time since I… well, since whatever. So, yeah, I’m a little frustrated, and you aren’t doing anything to help unfrustrate me.”

  “Tell me what’ll unfrustrate you?”

  I laughed to hide my embarrassment. “What? No way. I don’t even know you.”

  “And yet, here you are.” Dipping his head, he swiped the tip of his tongue over my lips. “Do you want me to undress you?” Without waiting for an answer, he straddled my hips and pushed my sweater up and off, revealing a red lace bra. “As sexy and as festive as this is,” he said, running his fingertips down to the front-closing clasp, “it has to come off.” He unhooked the clasp and pushed the cups to one side. Whoever invented front-opening bras deserved a Nobel Prize.

  “Beautiful.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over my nipples, and a satisfied moan fell from my mouth and ricocheted around the room. He stepped off the bed and stood between my splayed legs.

  One touch from him, and I’d climax immediately. And climaxing was something I wanted to do again
and again. I wrapped my legs around him and dug my heels into his thighs.

  “So impatient.” He grinned, and with a flick of his wrist, he opened the button on my jeans and pulled down the zipper. “I can’t wait to bury my face between your legs and hear you scream my name.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  I lifted my hips from the bed, allowing him to peel off my jeans and soaked underwear in one go. Jittery nerves bounced through my body. Who knew the anticipation of having sex with a man I barely knew could be this intoxicating? This liberating?

  “You should walk around naked all the time,” he said.

  “Then they’d definitely lock me up and throw away the key. There you go again, trying to get me out of your way.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “Caught me.”

  “Take your clothes off. It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Stop teasing me.”

  “Why would I stop teasing you?”

  Reaching out, I ran my fingers along the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a breath, and I shivered. Telling him what I wanted didn’t come easy, but showing him what I wanted did. He yanked his t-shirt over his head, and the musky scent of aftershave mingled with the scent of a man who’d worked hard all day infiltrated my senses.

  “You smell like, God, I don’t even know what you smell like, but it’s amazing.”

  “You think dust and sweat smell good?”

  “On you they do.” My gaze lingered on his hard muscles, on his chest and ripped stomach. I glanced down to where his erection stretched the material of his faded jeans, straining for release.

  “You’re still not naked enough.”

  “Soon.” He pressed my legs open and reached down. His gentle caress sent arousal spiking through my veins.

  He brushed his lips across my stomach, up to my breasts and down the midline of my body, teasing me again, arousing me even more. My nipples begged for his touch, but he ignored their peaked pleas for attention and instead pressed kisses along my upper thighs, completely ignoring my throbbing clit.