Faking It

by Diane Albert

  When they were finished, Stephanie leaned back against the couch and rubbed her stomach. The sight of her in her ball gown, with a plastic cup of champagne in front of her, made him smile.

  “Wipe that cocky smile off your face,” she said, then laughed and stretched languorously. “Mmm…not that you haven’t earned it.”

  “Have I?” He turned his head and breathed in the scent of her hair. “I wonder what I did to do that.”

  “Something I’m hoping we’ll do again. Very soon.”

  His stomach knotted with a surge of possessive desire. “I could be persuaded.”

  She rubbed her cheek to his shoulder with a sigh. “Thank you, Derek. This was the perfect date. I…you make me happy.”

  “I can’t complain either.” He brushed her hair off her cheek. She looked so pretty tonight, with her soft pink lips still swollen from his kisses. Happy, he thought, was a good word for the feeling swelling in his chest.

  She snuggled closer. “Are you happy you stayed here, instead of going back home?”

  If he hadn’t stayed, he would likely be in the office right now—absorbed in work even this late at night, and never knowing what he was missing. Instead he was here—with someone who only wanted him to be himself, and welcomed him with open arms.

  If only it weren’t so brief.

  If only it weren’t all based on a lie, and the moment she no longer needed him it would end.

  “Yes,” he said. “I think I am.”

  “Think, hm?” She laughed and nipped his shoulder. “Will you have a lot of work waiting for you when you go back home?”

  “Some. Not much.” He nodded toward the desk in the far corner, and the laptop—still open, a few charts still on the screen. “I’ve been working remotely.”

  “And you’re sure you aren’t missing anything important?”

  A dozen business meetings. A merger that could double his company’s revenues. His VP of Sales having a meltdown with every day Derek stayed in Florida. Yet none of that seemed important, right now. The company would still be there when he got back. He smiled. “The only important thing in my life right now is you—and your job. That’s all.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “Sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming around you. Like this can’t be real. You can’t be real.”

  Am I real? he wondered. This man I am now, who knows how to laugh…how to love. Is this who I truly am, or am I truly the cold stone statue I’d made of myself?

  “I’m real,” he said softly. “This is real. Stephanie…”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t say it. Just…just let it be.”

  She slid her lithe body across his lap and straddled his hips. He roused to her in an instant, and set his cup down so he could grasp the soft slopes of her thighs and drag her more firmly against him. Her nails raked down his chest and over his stomach, and when he rocked up against her, she let out a sweet, murmuring sigh of his name, igniting his blood.

  “Stay,” he whispered. “Stay with me tonight.”

  Stay with me every night, he thought, but kept his mouth closed. She would only think he was swooping in to rescue her again. Trying to take her away from her struggles, from the life she’d worked so hard for.

  Was it so wrong to want to give her something?

  Was it so wrong to want to give her everything?

  Her heated eyes met his. Her lower lip crept between her teeth, and a touch of uncertainty flickered in her gaze. A touch of fear. “Derek…”

  “No caveats,” he said, and stroked the dress up over her thighs until he found hot, bare flesh. “No questions. Just yes or no, bella.”

  “Yes,” she said, then captured his face and kissed him, hot and passionate and overwhelming him with her delicate softness. The message was clear. She wanted this from him, and only this. She didn’t need to be rescued. Didn’t need a prince to take her away to his shining castle. She just needed a lie, so he gave her one.

  The lie that this was still part of the act, when for him every kiss was too real, too true.

  …

  The moment he’d asked her to stay, she’d been lost. He was leaving soon, so soon, and Rodgers’ demands had given her only a brief stay of execution. The negotiations with Wheeler couldn’t last forever, and eventually Derek would have to go back to D.C. Working remotely was only a temporary solution, and he had a business to run. She couldn’t let herself get too deeply entangled when she’d only have to let him go. She couldn’t let herself feel the persistent warmth filling her up until she thought it would pour over. Not after tonight.

  Tonight, she would let herself be his.

  He stood and led her into the bedroom. She pushed him back against the wall; he let out a sharp exhalation. She flattened her palms against his shoulders and captured his lips, her tongue slipping inside to stroke his. As she kissed him, she unbuttoned his shirt. Each button drew her closer to his skin and one step closer to having him inside her, where she needed him. Each button brought her closer to him.

  When she reached the last one, she brushed his open shirt off his shoulders, letting them fall to the floor. His chiseled chest and abdomen taunted her, and she ran her fingers over them. His muscles clenched at her touch, and he hissed through his teeth. Shooting him a coy look, she traced a path down the center of his stomach to the buttons of his trousers. She tugged on the waist and nibbled at his neck.

  “Stephanie…” He moaned, gripping her hair. “You’re killing me.”

  “I’m just starting.” She undid his pants. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  “Jesus. Yes.” His voice faded off and he leaned back against the wall, giving himself over to her. When he stood clothed only in a pair of boxer briefs, she licked at the skin on his neck, then sank to her knees.

  His fingers threaded through her hair and he watched her, his blue eyes burning with an incandescent fire. She tugged his boxers down and closed her hands around his thick shaft. He groaned, and she leaned close to flick her tongue against the tip. His muscles clenched and his hips jerked forward, begging for more. She took him in her mouth, her lips parting around the fullness of him, sucking and teasing him with her tongue. The rough, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils. His whole body tensed and he clung to her hair. She deepened her strokes, taking as much of him in as she could, delighting in each sigh and moan. She could taste him getting closer and closer to the edge, but he pulled her off and picked her up in his arms. He kissed her hard, demandingly so, leaving no room for protest.

  She wanted to keep pleasuring him—touching him. Loved the heady feeling of power bringing him such pleasure gave her, but he took control. He allowed her nothing save surrender into the wildness of his kiss. He stalked across the bedroom without breaking contact with her lips. Then he tossed her on the bed. Her legs lay open with her dress cascading between her thighs. He took a long look at her, his eyes simmering with lust.

  “I want you,” he rumbled. “I want you so much it scares me.”

  When he looked at her like that, she could almost imagine there was more to this than lust. More than a base need for mutual gratification. But no—that was her wishful thinking.

  He wasn’t her type. He was rich. Bossy. A little bit arrogant. But even knowing all those things, she wanted him…for more than just this night.

  When he slid over her, his chest pressing to hers, all conscious thought fled. His palm ran up her thigh, leaving behind electric trails. He moved the dress aside and pressed his fingers against her heat. She moaned and arched her hips.

  “Now,” she gasped, gripping his hips and pulling him tight against her. “I need you now. No waiting.”

  He shook his head, but rocked his body against hers, his shoulders tense. She claimed his lips, kissing him with raw abandon. She needed him inside of her. She needed him to fill her.

  “Not yet,” he said, tearing his lips free. “First…”

  He thrust a finger inside her, his thumb rubbing against the tight
node of her pleasure. She cried out and rose off the mattress, and he kissed her hungrily. She clung to him, her body spiraling from his touch. She raked her nails down his back, needing him to move. To take her. “Now.”

  He swore, withdrawing his finger and positioning himself at her entrance. He captured her shoulders and held her tight. After another breathtaking kiss, he plunged inside her.

  She was still sore and sensitive from the first time, and now the heightened rush of sensation was almost unbearable. Stephanie writhed beneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust. When he bit down on her neck, she cried out and tensed, her whole body exploding with pleasure. Rolling over onto his back, he plunged up into her, and she braced her hands against his stomach. The taut muscles of his belly flexed under her fingers in delicious quivers as she rode him, taking him deeper and deeper. He held her hips, guiding her tempo until she felt her stomach clenching with need again.

  He groaned and increased his speed, capturing her lips. Reaching between them, he pressed his thumb against her before circling her clitoris with bold strokes. She tensed. When stars burst in front of her eyes, and all she could think—all she could feel—was him, he joined her, his body tight and a moan ripping out of him, his elegant, tanned face caught in a moment of open vulnerability, of bliss, that filled her heart as surely as he filled her body. She dropped down on the mattress beside him, her breathing heavy and harsh.

  Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her gently, his hand cupping her cheek. His smile was languorous and as sated as a lion with a full belly. He toyed with her hair. “That was one hell of a yes.”

  She shook her head and fought the grin threatening to take over her mouth. “You said you don’t do things by halves.”

  “Not for you.” He brushed her hair off her face and his smile melted away. “I’m serious. I…you matter to me, Stephanie.”

  She bit her lip, shoving down the foolish giddiness that threatened to explode inside her chest. He was just caught in the afterglow and saying the sort of sweet things men always said after sex. Nothing more—nothing less. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes. He gave her a quick kiss on the back of her neck and curled up behind her. Her eyes drifted shut. She drifted off to sleep with dreams of him filling her head.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stephanie woke to bright sunlight, a mild headache, and an empty bed. She rolled over and peered fuzzily at the spot Derek had been in the night before. Her body still tingled from his touch. He must have gotten up before her. Her “fiancé” was an early riser. Good to know.

  With a happy sigh, she climbed out of bed and wriggled back into her gown. This would be one hell of a walk of shame, strolling down the road in an evening gown at six in the morning—but not even that could wipe the smile off her face.

  She took a quick detour to the bathroom, straightened her hair, and made sure her mascara hadn’t turned from Cover Girl to Walking Dead, then slipped out into the living room. Derek was just ducking through the front door, with two cups of coffee in to-go cups. He raised one and smiled. “For the road.”

  She felt a brief pang. Already trying to rush the one-night mistake out the door. No—no, he knew she had to work, he was just being helpful. She swallowed back her sudden rush of embarrassment and smiled. “Thank you.” She took the cup and took a cautious sip.

  He rocked back on his heels and averted his eyes. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your place.” His cell phone rang as soon as he finished talking. He glanced at the screen, then dropped it back into his pocket without answering. “It’s the office. I’ll check in later.”

  “It’s okay. You have work to do. I’ll…I’ll see you later?”

  He hesitated, his eyes on her, but his mind clearly elsewhere. “I’ll call you a cab.” He kissed her, his lips lingering. His hand slid down her arm, lightly grasping her wrist for a moment. “I’ll stop by tonight. We have work to do on your proposal.”

  The warmth of his kiss chilled into icy frustration. No. Not just no, hell no.

  One night of sex hadn’t changed their business arrangement. She still had to do this on her own—and she would, or she would fail. At least if she failed while trying her best, she could hold her head up high. That kind of failure she could deal with. But failing after letting him do all the work for her? She would die a little bit inside.

  “Derek…I haven’t changed my mind about this. This is something I have to do on my own. Don’t you understand that?”

  His eyes shuttered over, leaving the cold, emotionless man he’d been when they first met. “No. Not when I’m ready and willing to help you in any way I can.”

  She clenched her fists. “That’s just it, though. I don’t need or want your help. This is something I have to do alone.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “There’s nothing wrong with a second pair of eyes to provide a fresh perspective. It’s a small thing, but you’re too stubborn to see that. You’d rather fall flat on your ass than let me help you.”

  She lifted her chin. His words stung more than any blow. “At least if I fall flat on my ass, I’d have tried to find my own foothold first.”

  Without giving him a chance to respond, she walked out the door before she could do something stupid. Like scream at him. Or cry. Or both. He had no faith in her. Even after all the times they’d talked, even after all the times she’d shown him that she could do this, he still thought she would fail without him.

  As she walked through the hotel lobby, she got more than a few odd looks from the staff and other guests. Maybe it was the raccoon eyes. Maybe it was the stupid dress she never should have let him buy. Probably a combination of the two. Either way, it reinforced that last night was a mistake.

  She stepped into the harsh morning sunlight. A cab was just pulling up to the curb. She let out a bitter laugh. Of course. Of course Mr. Perfect had stayed true to his word and called her a cab, even when she’d walked out on him.

  The cabbie rolled down the passenger-side window and leaned across the front seat. “You Stephanie Miller?”

  “Yeah,” she said, and fought down a perverse urge to just walk home. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  She fumbled herself into the back seat and gave the driver her address. She was home within minutes, and wasted no time getting upstairs and tearing out of the stupid, annoying, maddeningly beautiful gown. The gown that had made her feel special. Like a princess.

  Did he want to keep her in an ivory tower, while he ordered her life for her?

  She stood under the shower and let the hot water revive her. How could he not get it? She didn’t want anyone’s help. That was just the way she was. It wasn’t personal. She wasn’t rejecting him in specific. Was that why he was being so insistent? Did he think she was pushing him away, when she might accept the offer from someone else?

  She didn’t know how to make him understand. It wasn’t about him at all. It was her own self-doubt. Her entire life she’d had people rushing to do things for her. Hell, she’d been late learning to walk because her brothers carried her everywhere like some kind of favorite toy. Even when she’d started toddling around, they’d followed her and retrieved her toys for her, making sure she’d never have to strain to reach the higher shelves. She loved them to death—but she needed to grow up and do this on her own.

  Without any help from anyone.

  She didn’t want Derek’s help. She wanted his respect as an equal, even if earning it drove him away. He was leaving anyway, she thought, and ignored the hot sting in the back of her eyes. Why did it matter? They’d never talked about any sort of…anything. Somehow strategy meetings and a fake engagement had turned into real dates and stolen kisses, and she had no idea what any of it meant. She’d just fallen headlong, without thinking, into this unnamed thing.

  Fallen headlong into love with him.

  It didn’t matter. Soon she wouldn’t need him anymore, and before he left she’d show him. She would spend the entire work day ignoring the outside world. She’d slave over
every detail of her proposal, until it was perfect. No errors. No oversights.

  And she would win.

  On her way to the office, she pictured Derek’s smile when she told him. Would he laugh? Would he accept that she was just as capable as he was, and stop trying to rescue her all the time?

  Would he stay?

  She couldn’t let herself think about that. At the office, she threw herself into the distraction of work. Several hours and even more hand cramps later, her desk phone rang. She yawned, stretched, and glanced at the clock. She’d been working for five hours straight, but she was finished. And it was perfect.

  She picked up her phone. “Hello?”

  “My office.” Rodgers hung up without waiting for an answer.

  “Since you asked so nicely…” she muttered.

  It was probably about the Weyland Project, and Wheeler. She collected her newly polished file, still hot from the printer, gathered her composure, and walked into Rodgers’ office.

  Derek was standing there, next to Rodgers’ desk. She recoiled.

  “Derek? What are you doing here?”

  He looked back at her, his gaze completely closed, his face unreadable, but didn’t answer.

  “Ms. Miller.” Rodgers thumbed through a stack of papers. She caught a glimpse of graphs that looked suspiciously familiar. “Come in. Shut the door behind you. We need to talk.”

  Had Derek gone to Wheeler about his problems with the proposal? No—no, he wouldn’t play dirty like that. What was going on, then? She shut the door and edged a little further into the room. This felt like a nightmare. The kind where she was naked in front of her entire senior class. Or maybe more like that one time she really had shown up for a college lecture in just a bra and jeans, so brain-dead from a two-day study binge she hadn’t realized her “halter top” was a little more breezy than normal. At least she could wake up from a nightmare.