Fake Fiancée

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  By the time I parked and got inside the building, I was five minutes late. I took the stairs at a run. I got to the third floor landing and almost smacked into a couple kissing when I turned the corner. They split apart and the male spun his head to see me.

  Felix.

  “Watch it,” he muttered, his face flushed and sweaty. His eyes narrowed when he saw it was me.

  I was planning on ignoring him—until I caught a look at who he was with. It wasn’t Bianca, and for that I was glad. After the game when I’d followed her home, she’d told me that he hadn’t actually hit her, but he’d pushed her a few times. She’d made excuses for him . . . he was frustrated about the game, etc., but he was trouble waiting to happen.

  “Hey, Max,” Cyndi, the waitress from the coffee shop, said. She raked fingers through her long red hair as she tried to put it back in place. My eyes went to her shirt, which was halfway unbuttoned, giving a perfect view of her cleavage.

  “You see something you like, Kent?” Felix asked, a sneer on his face.

  I shook off his irritating tone. Don’t get sucked in. I forced a nonchalant shrug. “Carry on,” I said and kept going up the stairs.

  He called up after me. “You seem to be running late this morning, Kent. Hope everything’s okay.”

  I stopped on the landing above him and glared down. “Yeah. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  His shoulders puffed up. “Just being civil, that’s all. Making conversation.”

  I searched his face, looking for clues that he’d been the one who messed with my car—but all I got was a blank stare. No gleam of amusement or knowing look. Either he’d learned to hide his expressions better and had become more sinister with his pranks, or he didn’t have a damn clue what was going on.

  I exited the stairwell and rushed into class. There she was in her usual seat and all my anxiety melted. She had her blond hair up in a tight ponytail and wore a gray shirt that said Nap Queen.

  Mr. Whitt came into class and we got started, but Felix’s image loomed in my head again. Something was tugging at me, pricking, and I couldn’t nail it down.

  Then it dawned on me. The knife in my tire—I recognized it. Coach had given the team pearl-handled knives freshman year after we’d won the Southeastern Conference. He’d also had them engraved with our first initial on the metal end. It was small and barely noticeable, but most decidedly there.

  The knife in my tire had a pearl handle.

  I waited until Whitt wasn’t looking, pulled my phone out, and texted Tate, asking him to check the knife.

  He replied right away. I was just about to text you. I remembered too. Yes, it’s the same. I pulled mine out to compare. The initial on the bottom is F.

  Fucker!

  “Where are you going?” Sunny asked as I gathered up my things. “Max?”

  My chest rose as I shoved my laptop inside my bag. “I’m going to find Felix. He messed with my car this morning.”

  “Don’t,” she said softly, careful to keep her voice low so Whitt wouldn’t hear us.

  I slipped out of class, ignoring the look Whitt sent me.

  “Max, wait!”

  I flipped around to see Sunny had followed me. I bounded down the steps of the stairwell, stopping at the third floor landing and spinning in a circle. He was gone. I raked my hands through my hair. “He was in the stairwell five minutes ago—with Cyndi,” I said once she came to stand next to me.

  “He wants you to lose your cool, Max. Don’t let him win.”

  She was right, but what else was he capable of?

  I waited outside the Clark building for an hour, but I didn’t see Felix leave when classes got out. I did see Sunny head out for her next class, and I waved at her as she made her way in the opposite direction. As for Felix, I figured he either left through another exit or was in another science class.

  I drove to where he lived with a couple of other football players. His Tahoe wasn’t there, but I parked and waited.

  Tate called.

  “What?” I said, answering the phone after taking off my helmet.

  “I know you’re pissed, but you need to chill,” were the first words out of his mouth.

  “Why?”

  “Because if you go off half-cocked, you’re going to hurt yourself, him, and the entire team. Plus, what if it wasn’t Felix? Maybe someone is setting him up. Just because it’s his knife, doesn’t mean it was him.”

  That sounded farfetched.

  “You have to think long and hard about what you do next.”

  Oh, I was. It was all I could think about. My fists itched to pound him into the ground.

  “Think of everything you’ve done this year for the team—and the whole fake thing with Sunny—are you just going to throw all that away?”

  “I don’t think I can be around him and not punch him,” I bit out.

  “I know. Just get through the game. We’re so close. Just think about your shiny little trophy. Felix would laugh his ass off if you threw it away on a fight with him. He’d love it if you broke your hand on his face.”

  I exhaled a deep breath and clenched my hands.

  Maybe Tate was right.

  Just get through the game.

  I blew out a breath, pushing my rage down. “Then, I’ll need a work out at the gym.”

  “Good call.”

  I clicked the phone off, cracked my neck, and cranked my bike.

  Max

  TUESDAY DAWNED, AND I WOKE up as soon as the sun peeked in through Sunny’s blinds. Only a few words had passed between us last night when I’d shown up at her door, just a silent communication that I needed her.

  After my workout at the gym the day before, I’d decided to go see Coach. I’d laid everything out on the line for him, from the daisy to the basement to the knife in my tire. He called Felix into his office and confronted him with my accusations. Felix pushed it off with a nonchalant shrug, convincingly denying any involvement in anything. He said he’d lost his knife over a year ago. He also brought another guy on the team whose name began with an F.

  Frank.

  Frank was a good defensive player and had no beef with me.

  Whatever. It was all bullshit.

  In the end, Coach only scolded Felix for perpetuating the tension between us and told him he was watching him. Watching him?

  Angry and frustrated, I left the office and went straight to Sunny’s where I crawled in her warm bed, burying my face in the scent of her in the sheets. She put on a soft gray tank and curled up next to me. We fell asleep holding each other.

  Now it was morning, and I was damn grateful to wake up next to her. My hand touched the curve of her cheek, trailing down to the delicate lines of her throat. My thumb hovered over her pulse, seeing the increase of its rhythm. She shifted and moaned, her body arching into me.

  I went further, my hand slipping under her tank and splaying across her breasts. My fingers toyed with the jewelry on her nipple, tweaking it until her eyes opened, a heaviness there that I knew was desire.

  My hand kept going—painfully slow. It splayed across her ribs, counting them, thanking the heavens she was whole and complete and alive and with me. My fingers drifted over her lace panties, then I changed my mind and went to her nipple and drew little circles around it with my fingers. Her bottom teeth tugged on her lip, a little gasp coming from her parted mouth as she wiggled closer to my hand.

  “Do you want me to touch you?” I whispered, leaning down to lightly kiss her on the lips.

  Her eyes flared. “Yes. Please.”

  My fingers slipped under her panties, dancing across her skin with a slowness that wrecked me. I buried my face in her hair and went for her neck, my mouth finding purchase and sucking hard just as my finger delved inside her.

  Her entire body shuddered. I stroked her until she gasped my name, then I stopped and went back to her nipple, to those maddening circles.

  Her hips rubbed against my thigh, her leg tw
itching against mine as she tugged me closer to her. “Don’t tease me,” she said.

  “Not yet,” I growled, my tongue licking the edges of her ear.

  I lifted her tank up and over her head, tossing it to the floor. Gazing down at her, I got lost. She was all creamy skin, long blond hair, and legs for days.

  I groaned as her hand pushed inside my briefs and stroked my cock, making me nearly come. I pulled away from her touch. “Tricky girl,” I whispered before leaning down and wrapping my lips around her nipple, first one then the other. She grasped my head to her chest, her breaths coming in hurried pants as she arched off the bed to keep my mouth on her.

  “I love waking up with you,” I said against her skin.

  My fingers found her clit and circled, making her cry out. I put one languid finger inside her and then two, working at her gently. I crawled down her body and put my mouth on her, sucking. The air thickened around us, need rolling through both of us—and still I waited.

  And just when I didn’t think she could be any sexier, she wiggled away from underneath me and scooted up to the head of the bed. Using her thumbs, she slid her underwear down her legs, and my hungry gaze followed. She turned over on her knees and gazed at me from over her shoulder.

  Fuck.

  She was dripping, all pink and soft skin. She trembled when I spread her apart with my fingers and went back to suckling at her from this new angle until finally her whole body tightened, her internal muscles clenching as she came around my mouth and fingers.

  With one fluid motion my cock was inside her, riding out her spasms, barely hanging on to my own sanity as I slammed into her. She held on to the headboard, long hair hanging down on either side of her as I put my hand on her back, adjusting her to an angle where I could fuck her as hard and deep as I could.

  And still she wanted more.

  I gave it to her.

  I kissed her scars, my hands tracing the lines of the tattoo on her nape. Time heals all wounds, but the scars remain, making you who you are. To me, hers were a beautiful mosaic. I admired her more because of them . . . because she’d come out of darkness and learned to fly.

  Her muscles clamped around me as she came again, and this time I went with her, calling out her name. I never wanted this sensation to end. I never wanted us to end. Never. Never.

  Still inside her, I moved, hard and ready for her again. I wanted her over and over and over until neither of us could move, until she begged me to stop.

  My right hand stroked the lines of her spine, and she shuddered, her hair still hanging down on either side of her face. I leaned over her and moved it out of the way. Our eyes locked. One, two, three breaths—and the world tilted, everything sliding around until it fell gently into place.

  I loved her. I loved her.

  But I was terrified to say it.

  Thanksgiving came and I spent it with the team for a special meal while Sunny went to Mimi’s. They had plans to go shopping on Friday—something about special flip-flops being on sale. I had intense practices anyway and didn’t need any distractions. Our big game was Saturday, and all my focus was there.

  I missed her.

  It was the knocking at my door that woke me on game day.

  I checked my phone. It was six in the morning, and too damn early for a normal person.

  I lumbered out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, and opened the front door where a teary Bianca practically fell in my arms. I caught her to keep her from hitting the floor.

  What now?

  “Bianca?” I asked, as I set her back on her feet. “Wanna tell me why you’re crying?”

  “It’s Felix.”

  My chest rose. For the sake of the game, I’d let the knife thing go, but I didn’t want to be reminded of the asshole. I spent my time avoiding him this week as much as possible.

  “He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

  She wiped at her face with her hands. “No. I almost wish he had.”

  Okay.

  I exhaled and opened the door wider. “You best come inside.”

  She tugged her sweater around her shoulders and sat on the couch.

  Tate came out of his room in his boxers and took in the scene. He squinted at me. “What’s she doing here?”

  He’d never liked her.

  I shrugged. His guess was as good as mine.

  She fluttered her eyes. “I came because of something I found out last night. I’m sick of keeping secrets, and as much as it hurts me to say this, I think Felix is out of control.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  She bit her lip, an apologetic gleam in her eyes as she took me in. “I know Felix has pulled pranks on you—like the snake freshman year. What you don’t know is he also left a daisy at Sunny’s door just to screw with her. He wants what you have . . .” a small sobbing sound came from her as fresh tears flowed. “And he probably only dated me because he knew it would bother you. But what people don’t realize is that I really care about him. I wanted him to have everything too. I wanted him to have your spot, and I pushed him and urged him on when he’d do things. I tried to make him jealous by talking about you—but I’d never condone what he’s done lately.”

  My senses sharpened. “Like what?”

  “I went to his place last night to see him—I don’t know—just because I still care even though he’s seeing Cyndi. He let me in. He—he bragged about messing with your car and getting away with it.”

  I slapped my fist into my palm.

  Tate came over to us, his hand on my shoulder. “Dude. It isn’t like we didn’t figure it out already.”

  She closed her eyes. “He’s also responsible for Sunny being locked in the library.”

  Cold fury ran over me. My teeth snapped and my eyes narrowed. “Did he get you to do it?” I bit the words out.

  “Max . . .” Tate said, and I heard the tenseness in his tone.

  “Shut up, Englishman. Let her talk.”

  Bianca shook her head furiously. “It wasn’t me. I promise. That night at the library I was with Felix, but we were having problems. I went to the restroom, and when I came back he was talking to Cyndi. They were whispering, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I heard Sunny’s name. I stormed off, and I don’t know what happened after I left them—but I can imagine. I overheard him talking to Cyndi in the stairwell a few days ago. They were laughing about it.” She twisted her face, tears falling. “I’d never do that, Max. She could have been hurt.”

  She had been hurt! She’d fallen off a goddam cart. What if she’d broken her neck?

  I ran both hands through my hair. “Why are you telling me this now? Why not as soon as you knew about the basement?”

  Her face caved in on itself. “Because I love him. I kept thinking we were going to get back together—but last night he told me he was done with me for good.” Fresh tears came.

  I stood and paced around the room, my head a mess. Bianca didn’t give a shit about anyone but herself and the only reason she was tattling was because she was miffed at Felix.

  What had I ever seen in her?

  Whatever. I couldn’t focus on her.

  But Felix?

  I was going to kill that fucker.

  In the background I heard Tate dealing with Bianca, talking to her and edging her toward the door. She kept apologizing for coming over early, saying that she’d been up all night wrestling with what to do.

  I barely noticed.

  I walked to the bathroom and turned on the cold water at full blast and splashed my face. Wiping it off with my hand, I glared at myself in the mirror.

  Tate came to the open door, his voice calm. “She’s gone. You okay?”

  I gripped the edges of the sink and looked at him. “I could let the daisy thing go. And the car—it’s just money, and I know he wants me to get mad. But locking her in a fucking basement? Hell no.” I tied my hair up in a man-bun.

  Tate frowned. “What are you going to do, mate? Do I need to call Coach?” I he
ard the worry in his voice, and it reminded me that he needed this game too. It was his senior year, and with the draft coming up, every single play counted toward making your stats look good. I rubbed my face.

  I could tell Coach, but at this point there was no proof, and I’d seen his reaction already. Maybe Coach didn’t want to believe it. Maybe Coach needed this win so bad he was past caring what happened off the field. Plus, it was hearsay and he’d tell me he couldn’t do jack about that. I had to come up with how to handle Felix. And it had to be good—good enough that I didn’t lose the game or get kicked off the team.

  I got in the shower and let the hot water wash over me while I mulled it all over. I couldn’t come up with any scenario where I came out smelling like roses.

  One risky move and it could all go up in smoke.

  The night air was crisp and cold with not a cloud in the sky, perfect for a game. I felt loose and ready after letting one of the trainers work on getting the kinks out of my shoulders. The only rule I needed to follow to keep my cool was to pretend I didn’t want to rip Felix’s head off. Fool him. I stared off into space and zoned in on the game and what was waiting for me. I imagined the opposing players, their weaknesses, and how to beat them. I visualized every play, every hit I might get, and every touchdown pass I was going to throw. I used every single trick Coach had taught me.

  Felix waltzed in, his beady eyes assessing me as he walked by. I waved, making him start before picking up his pace and going to his locker.

  He opened it and froze.

  I smiled behind my hand, even as Tate shot me one of his warning looks. Okay, okay, he’d talked me down from beating the shit out of Felix, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t fuck with him.

  I knew what he saw. My pearl-handled knife stuck in one of his practice jerseys. I’d practically shredded the material. It had taken me getting here early and picking his lock—payback’s a bitch—but I’d managed.

  It was a far cry from my eighty thousand dollar vehicle he’d ruined, but it made me feel better.

  He’d thought he’d make me crack; but I was in control. I had to be.