“You did? Well, that sounds like progress.” I’m still contemplating telling him what Rachelle said to me, but I really don’t want to ruin his good mood.
“I think so. And hey, sorry I lost you when we first walked into the party. I saw my dad and Mitzi, and he was waving me over. I thought you were following behind me, but when I turned around, you weren’t there.”
“It’s okay. Candice rescued me. She introduced me to all of your cousins.” It dawns on me what he said and excitement fills me. “Wait a minute, did you actually talk to Mitzi?”
His eyes light up. He looks very pleased with himself. “I did. I told her she looked nice.”
“That is major progress for you.”
“She gave me a funny look. I think she was waiting for a follow-up insult.” Jared chuckles. “I didn’t say much else to her, though. I was afraid I might ruin it.”
“You do have a skill for that,” I tell him, my voice full of sarcasm. He keeps running his hand up and down my butt, and I send him a stern look. “You probably shouldn’t keep rubbing my butt. What if your father sees you?”
“Like he’d care. He probably wouldn’t even notice.”
“Jared.” I wiggle my butt, trying to shake his hand off, but it doesn’t budge. “Come on.”
“I’m trying to find panty lines,” he says, like that’s the most logical thing ever.
Of course he is. “Well, you should give up. You won’t find any.”
“I won’t?” He’s frowning.
“Because I’m not wearing any,” I tell him, my voice low.
The slow smile that curls his delicious lips makes all my girly bits tingle. “You are a bad girl,” he murmurs, smoothing his hand over my backside one more time before he lets it drop.
“Only bad for you.” I tip my head back and he kisses me, another one of those lingering, I want to get you alone and strip you naked type kisses. This time even with a hint of tongue.
Seriously, we are acting like horny teenagers right now. I’m feeling like one for sure. I can’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex, and if our earlier interlude is any indication, I’m guessing it’s going to be pretty spectacular with Jared.
I’m kind of wishing we could ditch this party too. Maybe we’ll only stick around for an hour or so. Not like any of them will miss us, right?
“Can’t we leave already?” Jared asks with a ragged sigh after we break apart. “No one gives a shit if we’re here or not.”
His thoughts echo mine. “An hour. Let’s get our drinks, make the rounds, find as many people to talk to as possible, then leave. What do you say?”
“I really like that idea.” He kisses me yet again. A quick one this time that leaves me wanting more. “I also really like you.”
His simple words make my heart freaking sing.
I am such a cornball.
Thirty
Jared
This party is torture. Making endless small talk with various relatives and old family friends is not how I usually spend my Saturday nights. In fact, this is the sort of thing I avoid as much as possible.
But I’m here for my family tonight, and for Sarah. I promised her I would do right by my brother, and that’s what I’m doing, damn it.
She’s part of the torturous experience, though. Sarah. Sexy as hell in that strapless black jumpsuit that shows so much skin, wearing the Louboutins I bought her, her hair perfectly straight and hanging down her back, her lips bright red, tempting me to kiss that lipstick right off of her.
She’s brimming with confidence and sassy as hell, and I am dying to get her alone.
Once we get our drinks from the bar, we start wandering around, me introducing her to people I know. My aunt and uncle. My other aunt and uncle. A couple of cousins who demand to come visit my house sometime, and for once in my life, I agree that they should stop by, shocking the shit out of them.
Candice finds us at one point, and I’m pretty sure she’s a little buzzed since she’s louder than usual. Considering she’s pretty loud when she’s sober, she’s practically yelling at everyone when she sees them.
Every time I see them, Kevin and Rachelle are immersed in conversation with someone, which takes the pressure off me to try to make things right with my brother. I really did tell him I wanted us to get together more often, including going out on a double date with him and Rachelle and me and Sarah. He also mentioned that he wanted to talk to me tomorrow, one on one, and would I mind going to lunch with the family before everyone took off to go home?
I agreed, though the last thing I want to do is share another meal with my family. They’re not the ones I want to avoid—it’s Rachelle’s family I don’t want to be stuck at a table with.
Luckily enough, I’ve dodged them the entire evening. I saw Rachelle’s parents and guided Sarah with a gentle nudge, sending us in the opposite direction. I know she spoke to Rachelle for a few minutes while I was chatting with Kevin, but I keep forgetting to ask her what Rachelle said.
If she blew my cover and revealed that we know each other because I used to be engaged to her older sister, I think Sarah would’ve confronted me about it by now. As it stands, I’m a freaking idiot for not telling her the truth already. I keep telling myself she won’t care. She shouldn’t. I could give two shits about Evelyn, despite the fact that she was my first heartbreak. The first woman I loved.
I’m over that. I’ve been over it for a while. At least, that’s what I tell myself. And yeah, it’s been difficult with Evelyn here this weekend, though I know she wasn’t the woman for me. Thank God we didn’t get married because I can guarantee we’d be divorced by now. Or maybe we would still be together and completely miserable, I’m not sure.
That would’ve been terrible. Then I wouldn’t have met Sarah.
It may have happened quickly, but there’s no one else I’d rather be with than her. And maybe it didn’t happen quickly. We’ve been hate-flirting for the past six months, every time I saw her at Bliss. We just finally got around to actually doing something about it.
“I’m freezing,” Sarah says with a little shiver as we stop by one of the outdoor heaters. She steps closer to it, holding her hands out. The wind has picked up more in the last half hour or so, making it colder.
“You didn’t bring a jacket.” I take mine off and set it over her shoulders, but it just completely envelopes her, making her look like a little girl wearing her daddy’s coat. “Is that better?”
“No, because it’s hiding my outfit.” She shrugs out of my jacket and hands it back to me. “I love this jumpsuit. I need to get as much joy out of this as I can.”
“But you’re cold,” I point out.
“I’ll suffer through it,” she says with shrug. “Beauty is pain. Haven’t you ever heard that before?”
“No,” I say carefully, wondering what the hell she’s talking about. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes women have to suffer in order to look good. My mom used to always say that when she kicked off her high heels or was so relieved to take off a dress that was too tight or uncomfortable. She’d tell me beauty is pain. And then she’d get this weird look on her face, kneel down and stare right into my eyes. She’d tell me beauty really shouldn’t be painful and I should suffer for beauty only if I want to, not because I’m suffering to look beautiful for someone else.” Sarah’s smile is wistful, her gaze growing distant.
I know that expression well. I’m sure I look the same when I’m thinking about my mother. “She sounds like she was pretty great.”
“She was the best mom ever.” Her gaze meets mine, her blue eyes turbulent with emotion. “I’ll have you know I’m not suffering in the cold wearing a strapless jumpsuit for you, Mister Man. I’m doing this for myself. I swear this jumpsuit gives me confidence.”
“Super Sarah?” I tease.
“Yes, Super Sarah, I like that. Do you like superheroes?”
“I got your Spider Man reference that one time, yes,” I tell her wi
th the utmost sincerity.
“What are you talking about?” She frowns.
“When you asked who was going to be here at this very party—you mentioned Uncle Ben and Aunt May,” I explain to her.
She starts laughing, shaking her head. “Brent loved Spider Man so much when he was a kid. I know all about Uncle Ben and Aunt May.” She rolls her eyes. “God, I was such a jerk to you, I swear.”
“I drove you to act like a jerk because of my dickish ways,” I remind her, and she only laughs harder. The sound of her laughter is infectious and I can’t help but join her, and I realize at this moment I’ve never felt lighter.
Or more content.
And it’s all because of this woman standing before me, making me laugh. Making me want her. Making me want to protect her. She brings out all of those feelings I thought I couldn’t feel anymore. The ones I stuffed away and forgot about after my engagement ended with Evelyn. That very woman is here at this rooftop party with us, yet I haven’t seen her at all. Not once.
As if I’m not meant to see her, which I’m perfectly okay with. I don’t need to see my past tonight.
Right now, at this moment, with this woman—Sarah—I get the sense that I’m looking at my future.
Once the laughter dies, I pull her to me, nuzzling her cheek with my nose before I murmur close to her ear, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Our hour isn’t up yet,” she tells me, shivering when I must hit a sensitive spot just below her ear.
“How long have we been mingling and playing nice?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t check my phone when we started,” she admits, giggling when I nip her earlobe.
“Then I say it’s been an hour. Let’s go.” I grab hold of her hand and we start walking, both of us keeping a fast pace, like we’re eager to get the hell out of here.
I won’t even make eye contact with anyone, too worried they might stop us and want to chat for twenty minutes. I’m over making small talk and asking how everyone is doing. I know how they’re all doing—fine. I know how their lives are—busy.
“You guys are already leaving?” Candice appears out of nowhere, standing right at the rooftop entrance, below the banner congratulating Kevin and Rachelle.
We stop short, both of us sharing a glance before we look at Candice. “Yeah, Jared’s not feeling very well,” Sarah says, sending me a sympathetic frown.
I nod, my manner solemn. “Had a little too much to drink.”
“Aw, that’s terrible!” Candice tugs me into her arms, her perpetual cloud of perfume surrounding me, almost making me cough. “I hope you feel better.”
“I’m sure going to bed early will take care of whatever ails him,” Sarah says, her tone so serious, even I’m starting to believe her.
“You guys got a car coming to get you?” Candice asks, whipping out her phone. “I can get one for you.”
“Do you mind?” I wince, really putting it on. “I want out of here as soon as possible. I’m a little dizzy.” Sarah’s stern gaze tells me to rein it in.
“No problem.” Candice taps at her phone, the light from her screen illuminating her cute face. “Done. They’ll be here in less than five minutes.”
“Then we better get going,” Sarah says, grabbing hold of my hand and dragging me toward the hall that leads to the elevators. “Thank you so much, Candice.”
“You two are going to lunch tomorrow, right?” she calls as we’re walking away. “I hope you feel well enough to show up!”
“I’ll try,” I tell her.
“Love you guys,” she yells, and the moment she’s out of view, we start running down the short hallway toward the elevators. The moment we arrive, Sarah’s stabbing the down button with her finger again and again.
“That’s not going to make the elevator show up any faster, you know,” I say as I stop to stand beside her.
“I just want it to get here before Candice follows us and sees that you’re feeling just fine.” She turns to face me. “I didn’t know I could lie so well.”
“You did a stellar job,” I say, my voice, my expression serious.
“Hey thanks.” She leans into me, her hands on my chest, her face tipped up like she wants me to kiss her.
Nope. Can’t do it. If I kiss her, I’ll pull her into the elevator and keep kissing her. I’ll also touch her. Everywhere. Things might get heated in the Uber. And then I’ll end up making an ass of myself.
That means I have to keep my hands off her until we get to the hotel.
Thirty-One
Sarah
I am dying. For some reason, Jared thought it would be a good idea to keep his hands to himself until we got to the hotel. He announced those very words to me when we entered the elevator and I tried my best to attack him.
He fended me off, his hands wrapping around my forearms, stopping me from touching me. “Let’s wait,” he said in that annoyingly calm voice I hadn’t heard in a long time.
Like, since the last time we were together at Bliss.
Once I realized that nothing was going to happen in the elevator, or in the backseat of the Uber, I cross my arms in front of my chest, plumping my boobs up as much as I can, and put on a good pout.
He doesn’t even look at me, the bastard. He’s too busy scrolling on his phone and answering a text from Candice.
And then his father.
And then his brother.
Jared doesn’t tell me what they’re saying, just lets me know with every notification of his phone who’s texting him. Finally, curiosity gets the best of me and I can’t stand it anymore.
“Why are they all texting you anyway?” Shouldn’t they be having fun at the party?
“Candice told them I didn’t feel well. Now they’re all worried about me.” He chuckles. “Why are they worried? You told Candice that you thought I drank too much. I’m supposedly drunk, not sick.”
“Maybe she didn’t hear me. She was buzzing too. I’m sure she’s made up her own story and is telling everyone you’re on your deathbed,” I suggest jokingly.
“She’s always had a flare for the dramatic. I wouldn’t doubt it.”
We talk like this for the rest of the drive to the hotel—which is much shorter than when we rode over earlier, thanks to less traffic. By the time Jared’s at the suite door using the keycard to open it, I’m an anxious, nervous mess. I’m itchy, the jumpsuit suddenly feels too tight, and I wonder if this is what it feels like right before you explode from extreme sexual frustration.
I’ve never experienced this before, so I’m at a loss.
The moment the door shuts behind us with a quiet click, I’m in Jared’s arms. He presses me against the wall, his mouth finding mine, his hands gripping my hips. I give in to his hungry kiss, my hands going to the lapels of his jacket so I can shove it off him. He helps me get rid of it, shucking it to the floor before he reaches for his tie, fumbling with it like he’s as shaky as I am before it too finally disappears.
Reaching for him, I unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers, my breaths coming fast, my head spinning. I am an addict. I want him. So badly, my entire body is burning up. His mouth returns to mine, devouring me, his kiss all-consuming as his lips meld with mine. He removes his hand from my hip to slip it behind my head, his fingers burying in my hair, and holds me still as his tongue explores my mouth.
I kiss him back with the same ferocity, desperation clawing at my insides, making me whimper low in my throat. He takes over me trying to unbutton his shirt, finishing undoing it before he tries to take it off with a single flourish.
It doesn’t work. He forgot to undo the buttons on his cuffs and the shirt hangs from his wrists. I know this because I opened my eyes and watched the entire incident go down.
There’s no containing my laughter. He looks ridiculous, his hair a mess, his swollen lips and smoldering gaze, that glorious muscular chest on full display, yet his shirt is hanging from his hands, still attached around his wrists. Still laughing, I r
each for one hand and undo the button, then the other, and he shakes it the rest of the way off.
“Thanks,” he mutters as his mouth hovers above mine. “I tried to be cool and I ended up looking like a dumbass.”
“The worst part is that you used the word cool,” I whisper, sighing with longing when he dips his head and starts kissing the side of my neck.
“What’s wrong with the word cool?” he asks, his murmured words against my sensitive skin making me shiver.
“Everything. It’s not cool.” I run my hands up and down his hard chest, marveling at his muscles. The smattering of hair between his pecs. I can feel the faint ridges in his abdomen, and I’m impressed. He doesn’t quite have a six-pack, but he is close.
My fake/maybe real boyfriend is smokin’ hot.
“I think you’re just making fun of me for the hell of it,” he says, lifting his head so he can look into my eyes. There’s a single lamp burning in the living area, and that’s it. The suite is mostly dark, but I can see his face, the shadows hiding some of his features and emphasizing others. He is truly so gorgeous, it almost pains me to look at him.
“You’re right,” I tell him with all the seriousness I can muster. “I enjoy making fun of you. It’s my secret hobby.”
“I know. You did it all the time at Bliss,” he tells me as he’s about to kiss me.
I press my hands against his chest, stopping him. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did.” He tries to kiss me again, but I still hold him off.
“No. I really didn’t. I just did what you asked, mostly.”
“Uh huh. Some of the things you said were just to antagonize me,” he murmurs, running his fingers up my right arm, his touching tickling. “Like always using the word mistress.”
“They were your mistresses,” I say primly.
He shakes his head, his hand dropping away from my arm. I immediately miss his touch. “I hate that word.”
Fake Date Page 21