“Well,” he said, covering himself again. He lowered his voice, leaning in close. “I had this fantasy where you came in, saw me naked, and then you lifted up that skirt and let me take you from behind. I’d just pull your panties to the side and give it to you quick. From there, the hard cock kind of came naturally.”
I took a slow, shuddering breath. “You can’t do things like this.”
“If you’re going to try to pretend you don’t want it, I’ll have no choice but to keep doing things like this.”
I swallowed. “I’m not pretending,” I said in a hushed voice. “I’m trying my hardest to be a responsible adult. We both have a job to do with this fake wedding. I have a business to save, and you have a career to salvage. Neither of us need to complicate things by screwing like bunnies every chance we get.”
“Yeah? There’s a tarantula named Leg-olas who wants to know why you risked his life and eight limbs for a little booty call last night, then.”
My cheeks went hot with embarrassment. “He’s quicker than he looks. He would’ve got away if you tried to hurt him, so he was safe.”
“Right,” Chris bent his neck, planting a kiss on my earlobe that I wasn’t strong enough to pull away from. I closed my eyes, letting it happen. “I’ll put my clothes on. I can tell you’re about to lose it if this goes on much longer. I just needed you to remember you can’t fight it forever. You can’t even fight it for one day, Belle. Remember that.”
I turned my back so he could get dressed, but my brain went ahead and vividly pictured what was going on behind me. Long, sculpted legs sliding into his briefs. The bulge of his cock pressing against the cotton, practically begging for the palm of my hand. I could see the rack of abs all down his stomach and the sharp lines of muscles that started at his sides and disappeared into his waistband. Worst, I could see the calculated, amused glint in his wolf-like eyes as he watched me pretend I wasn’t imagining and enjoying every second of this.
“Do you guys need a condom in there?” Milly asked through the door.
“What’s a condom?” Luna asked.
“Something to save the world from Chris making copies of himself and unleashing them on the rest of us.”
“Cool!” Luna said. “Like kryptonite? Is it Uncle Chris’ weakness?”
Chris was smiling. “Uncle Chris has no weaknesses!” he shouted through the door as he buttoned up his dress shirt.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself from inching closer to him. I reached up and helped him with his tie, then pressed my palms to his chest, straightening the wrinkles from his shirt.
He smirked down at me, lowering his voice. “Okay. Maybe I’ve got a weakness for one thing.”
“Dad jokes?” I asked.
Chris ran a taunting finger along my jaw, then brushed my lip with his thumb. “You, stupid.”
I gave him a playful shove. “Good thing you ruined that by calling me stupid, or I might’ve actually been tempted to start liking you a little more.”
“It was calculated. I can’t have you falling for me all at once. I like watching you squirm—thinking you’re going to be able to fight it. It’s cute.”
“Bastard.”
He laughed. “I won’t argue that one.”
22
Chris
Belle asked if Damon and I could meet at Rose Athletic a few days after the tux fitting. Unfortunately, she’d done a surprisingly good job of avoiding me in the meantime. I’d of course tried a barrage of suggestive texts and even showed up at her apartment one time. It had all proved fruitless.
The truth was, I knew I was only putting a thin veil of humor and a carefree attitude over what was really going on. I wanted Belle. I didn’t just want one more fling or one more flirtatious encounter. Against all my better judgment, I wanted more. I wanted to know I’d get to see her every day, to know she was exclusively mine, to know that Lance bastard and his dumb turtlenecks he wore in half his posts on social media wasn’t going to creep into her life.
I wanted Belle, plain and simple. And the closer the wedding got, the more I started to dread the expiration date on our little arrangement. Because I might be able to get her to smile and play along when I flirted and I might even be able to get her to let her walls down and fuck me, but I didn’t have her. There was still something she was holding back, and I wanted that, too.
I was surprised when I felt like my breath caught just to see her walk into Damon’s office. She had her hair pulled back in a braid that fell over her shoulder. She was dressed in an ivory colored, silky top that let me see the outline of her bra and the little pad of soft flesh bulging above her bra line. Yes, I was desperate enough to study her like Sherlock fucking Holmes for any hint of sexuality. She’d gotten into my brain like a large-breasted, fine-assed virus.
Belle had a way of looking at me, then looking away like she’d been caught doing something naughty. Maybe it was more innocent than I let myself believe, but it always made my dick hard. She got this ashamed look in her eyes like she couldn’t even see me without imagining the things we’d done together, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
“Thanks for coming,” Belle said. She sat as far away from Damon and I at the conference table as she could, then set down a thick stack of papers and folders. “I wanted to get your approval for some funding to take a trip to Europe and explore a few venues I had in mind for the wedding.”
“You’re still set on doing Europe?” Damon asked.
“It’s the trendy thing. Almost all the big celebrity weddings are abroad right now, and if you don’t want to raise the wrong kind of eyebrows, we should seriously consider having Chris’ wedding overseas, too.”
“Our wedding,” I corrected.
Belle shot me a look of warning, then started shuffling through her papers again. “I had a few places in mind, but if you don’t want to dig through the list, I also have a figure for the cost of travel and lodging. It’s everything combined and—”
Damon interrupted. “Cost isn’t an issue,” Damon said with a wave of his hand. “I just want to make sure this sells to the media. We’ve already got quite a bit of worry from Chris’ sponsors after the change from Mindy to you. I don’t know if you’ve seen, but they’ve made the connection to your mishap in Texas, and they’re having a blast trying to turn this into some sort of conspiracy. It’s not exactly painting Chris in the calm, settled down light we were going for.”
“What are you suggesting?” Belle asked.
“That you two need to do some work selling the fact that you’re madly in love to the public. Pretending you were trying to keep things private and intimate was fine before the talks of a scandal started. Now I think it’s going to take more.”
“Then double whatever that figure is she gave you for the trip,” I said. “I’ll go with her to scout out the venues. My wifey and I can get some quality time in together and pose for a few pictures. Maybe some poolside shots. A staged, but believable clandestine shot of me rubbing oil on her bare back from our beachside balcony? Oh, wait. What about a leaked sex tape?”
Damon and I both glared at Chris, who threw his hands up.
“Hey, I’m just putting ideas out there.”
“Maybe he has a point,” Damon said with a sigh. “And not about the specifics, but the idea of you two making some public shows of affection.”
“No way,” Belle said. “We’re not posing for an oil rub down-”
“No. I mean about him coming with you to Europe. It could be good for optics.”
“I guess it would be helpful to have him nearby to approve a venue. But Chris is a distraction I don’t really need while I’m trying to work.”
“Well,” I said. “Sounds like someone will need to put their professional pants on and show a little self-control, won’t they?”
Belle shook her head at me in disgust. “Speaking of being professional, aren’t you supposed to be some kind of NFL player? Aren’t you in the middle of a football season? Are
you really able to just pick up mid-week and go to Europe?”
I stood up so she could see the brace around my thigh and knee. “Pulled a hamstring.”
“So? Aren’t you guys supposed to play even if your eyeballs are dangling out of their sockets or something?”
I cringed. “I can run about as fast as a grandmother on her way to a sale on flowers right now.”
“What does that even mean?”
“The enthusiasm is there, but my body can’t quite match it.”
Damon interjected. “He has a specialist in London we use for physical therapy. The team is letting him have a few days to rehab overseas, but they’re hoping he’ll be ready by Sunday.”
“So am I going to have to push him around Europe in a wheelchair?”
“Is that on the table?” I asked. “Because I’m in.”
“Look,” Damon said, ignoring both of us. “Chris will come along but it’s not because you actually need his approval for anything. We just need to make sure you two are seen together. Ideally making googly eyes and holding hands.”
“If the wedding venue and details didn’t matter, you could’ve hired anyone to do this. But people will spot it from a mile away if Chris had no input in the ceremony. So regardless of what you think, I still want to get the wedding right, too.”
I nodded. “See? This is why we pay her the big bucks.”
“No,” Damon said. “I pay her the big bucks because your dumbass made sure she was the only person we could possibly use for this job.”
I grinned. “Well, yeah. There’s also that. So, Belle, are you a window seat or an aisle seat kind of girl? Or should I just figure out how spacious the bathrooms are?”
Damon covered his face with his hands.
23
Belle
I watched Damon plunge his face into his hands as Chris wore his trademark crooked smile. I was starting to think Chris fed off dirty looks and exasperated sighs, so I gave him neither. I scooped up my things, nodded curtly, then headed for the door.
I couldn’t believe I was going to Europe alone with Chris. I will not sleep with him on this trip. I will not sleep with him on this trip.
I got outside the office and pressed my back to the door, trying to gather some mental fortitude before I continued.
Then I heard Chris’ muffled voice through the door.
“I bet she thinks she’s not going to end up sleeping with me on this trip.”
Damon groaned. “Is there even an ounce of professionalism in that thick head of yours?”
“Somewhere, maybe. But I mean, come on. Have you seen her? You’d be preoccupied with her too if she was your wifey.”
“First of all, I have a ‘wifey.’ Secondly, no, I wouldn’t. I know how to control my cock, unlike you.”
“Oh, I can control it. You could even say I’m a sword master. It’s probably why Belle can’t stop looking at me like she wants more even when I’m constantly irritating her.”
I swung the door open. “I can hear you, asshole.”
“Oh,” Chris said. He threaded his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair. “I guess this is a good time to tell you Damon and I have been doing a little sibling therapy. I roleplay a douchebag and he plays a guy with a streetlight up his ass. Afterwards, we trade notes.”
“Take this note.” I stuck my finger in his direction. “If your ‘sword’ comes near me during this trip, you’ll realize you’re not the only one who knows a little swordplay.”
Chris and Damon both narrowed their eyes, and I realized how much I’d butchered my ‘bust in, say something badass and intimidating, then leave’ speech.
Chris put a finger on his chin, smirking. “I can’t tell if you’re promising to ride me, reveal that you’ve been hiding a cock of your own somewhere, or threatening to cut off my cock with a literal sword.”
“I’m warning you,” I said quietly. “And I think if I had one of those, you would’ve found it by now.”
Damon put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. In fact, I thought he might actually be laughing, which was a rare sight from the man.
I thought about trying to explain away my embarrassment but realized everything that came out of my mouth was only making it worse. I made one last threatening finger-jab in Chris’ direction and stormed out of the conference room.
Damon contacted me later that night with a complete publicity plan for our trip. The short version was that Chris and I needed to make sure we were seen together and “disgustingly in love” at various points during the trip.
Spectacular.
The morning of our flight, I was woken by frantic knocking on my door. I rolled out of bed with last-night’s makeup still half-applied and my hair a mess. Something told me I’d find Chris looking pristine on the other side of the door. It made me want to run to the mirror and fix myself up, but I knew if he kept knocking like that, he’d wake up half the building.
“I’m coming!” I shouted as I skidded and slipped my way through the messy apartment.
When I opened the door, it was Lance waiting, not Chris. He had flowers in his hand. “I came to apologize.”
“At five in the morning?”
“Can I just come in so we can talk?”
I hesitated. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve said no. I probably would’ve slammed the door. But there was something about still being able to remember him laughing so hard apple juice shot out of his nose at the elementary school lunch table. Or remembering all the times he’d come to my rescue when I had my heart broken by boys or my feelings hurt by the mean girls at school.
There was just too much history to pretend I could make a clean cut and throw him out of my life. Did it mean I was going to sleep with him? Absolutely not. But I at least owed him as much as letting him try to patch things up.
With a defeated sigh, I stepped aside and gestured for him to come inside.
24
Chris
I headed up to Belle’s apartment around six. Our flight wasn’t for a few hours, but for strictly business reasons, it would be good to show up early so she and I could plan how to sell that we were madly in love to the cameras. Of course, there was also part of me that hoped I’d find her skidding around in socks, a t-shirt, and little cotton panties again. Okay, that was pretty much the only reason I was showing up unannounced.
I knocked on her door. I lightly tapped a few times, waited, then whispered—because I didn’t want to scare her by shouting. “Belle? You in there? If you don’t want me to let myself in, just say something.” I paused. “Okay, I’ll just get the lock.”
I unfolded a paperclip and shoved it in the lock of her door. With a few twists and a pull on the handle, it came free.
I’d prepared myself to see a lot of things when I came into her apartment, but I didn’t expect to see an asshole in a turtleneck on her couch.
Belle was sitting beside him with her hands folded while the guy looked like he was in the middle of saying something. They both jumped up from the couch when they heard the door open. Belle quickly stepped several feet away from the guy.
I squinted, pointing between the two of them. “Turtleneck guy? I knew it!”
“Chris,” Belle was speaking slowly like you might to a person with a knife. “This is Lance. Remember? My friend since Kindergarten? He just wanted to clear things up after the fiasco in Texas.”
“With flowers?” I asked. I picked them up, noticing how Lance was completely stiff, following me with his eyes while barely any other part of him moved. He was ready to fight me, I figured.
As much as I would’ve liked to pop his pencil head out of that turtleneck and toss him around a little, I’d let it be his call. Right now, I was too busy doing detective work to start throwing fists.
“I’m allowed to give flowers to my friend,” Lance said. “And you two are only pretending to be together, according to Belle. You don’t need to play the part of jealous fiancé with me, pal.”
&n
bsp; “Woah,” I said. “You told this asshole? And did you just call me “pal?” Nobody calls me pal, champ.”
Belle looked at me like I’d just smeared dog shit on her rug. “All I told him was that he sounded like some crazy conspiracy theorist for guessing that. But good job, Chris. And thanks for assuming the worst of me.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay. Yes, Belle and I are officially pretending. But behind the scenes? The sexual tension between us is off the charts, so-”
“Chris!” Belle snapped.
Lance turned to face me now. He was still stiff in that tell-tale way guys got when seventy percent of their brain was devoted to the idea of finding an opening to start swinging. “I don’t care who you are,” he said. “Belle barely knows you, and I’m sure you know nothing about her. You probably don’t even know that she cheats at hide and seek or that she always wishes she ordered what you ordered at restaurants. I bet you don’t even know her birthday.”
I waited patiently for him to finish. “Yeah? And I bet you don’t know what she sounds like when she comes all over your cock. Or how it feels when she’s got her lips-”
Belle physically put herself between us, pushing me back from Lance, like that would help. “You’re making an ass of yourself.” She was speaking quietly, just to me.
I took another look at Lance. Lance. What kind of name was that, anyway? It was like someone had built him to be punched, and not punching him was violating a cosmic law. But the little woman with the wild, “I just got out of bed” hair in front of me didn’t want me to.
“Alright. But he needs to go. Now. Until I get my contract, you’re mine, Belle. I don’t care who he is or what there might be between you. You are my fiancée. My wife-to-be. Got it?”
My (Mostly) Fake Wedding Page 10