Pretending He's Mine

by Mia Sosa

  He cranes his neck to look at me. “What?”

  “The ceiling, Julian. You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes. What’s wrong?”

  He sighs. “Just thinking about Gabriel, who’s now my newest client.”

  “You made him an offer. That’s great, congrats.” The absent expression on his face suggests he isn’t in a celebratory mood, however. “Or not.”

  He drops his head back onto my stomach. “No, you’re right. I should be excited, but . . .”

  The hesitation in his voice doesn’t surprise me. Julian’s always been tight-lipped about his work. But if we’re going to be together, he needs to share this aspect of his life with me, too. Otherwise, we might as well call ourselves friends with benefits. “Talk to me, Julian.”

  I count the seconds of silence that follow, a form of mental fidgeting as I wait to see if he’ll let me in.

  Eventually, he speaks. “I love his enthusiasm. I love the possibility of working with him and helping him get his due.”

  “You make that sound like a problem.”

  “It’s not. But I worry that I won’t be able to deliver for him, not in the way he deserves. Hollywood doesn’t put out a welcome mat for people who aren’t white, male, and straight.”

  I slide out from under him, and his head hits the mattress. Now I’m looking down at him. “You mean people who aren’t like my brother.”

  After scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks up at me and nods. “Exactly.” He bites down on his lips as he ponders the situation. “I’m racking my brain for ways to make myself useful to him without burning bridges in the business . . . or getting fired.” He shakes his head as if to clear it. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about it. I’m not going to solve anything tonight, obviously.”

  I admire him for handling his client’s careers with care. Everything I’ve seen about agents in popular media paints a less than flattering picture of them. Julian challenges that depiction. Even now, when he suspects roadblocks ahead, he’s focused on confronting them head-on. Makes me consider my own ambitions and what I’m willing to do to achieve them. “Well, at least Gabriel’s got a lot going for him.” I tick off his positive attributes with my fingers. “Good-looking, charming, and talented. To my untrained eye, you’ve got someone with star potential.”

  “Glad you noticed.”

  Is that sarcasm I hear? Oh dear. I’m tickled that he’s not immune to the green-eyed monster, but I’m not encouraging his behavior. “News flash. I can appreciate a man’s looks and talent without having any romantic interest in him.”

  He mutters something, then speaks up. “Of course you can. Just ignore me.”

  “Easy enough.”

  In seconds, he springs to his knees, tackles me back down, and pins me under him, his wide smile and dancing eyes stealing my breath for a moment. Broody Julian makes me horny, but playful Julian makes me swoon.

  He buries his head in my neck and nips at my skin. “Can you ignore me now?”

  I force myself not to yelp or laugh, even though he’s tickling me and I’m screeching inside. I whip my head around instead, pretending to listen out for a sound. “I’m sorry. Did someone say something?”

  He nuzzles his way up to my jaw and nips me there, too. “What about now?”

  Oh, the brush of his mouth against my skin feels nice. Really nice. “That’s a little harder to ignore but still doable.”

  He rises above me, the corded muscles in his forearms flexing as he gets into a push-up position, and then he lowers his body in tiny increments, until I reach up, grab the back of his neck, and pull him down. “You’ve made your point.”

  He collapses behind me and turns me to the side, arranging us in a spooning position. After planting a soft kiss on my shoulder, he says, “I like being in bed with you.”

  “Yes,” I say on a laugh. “It’s where we do our best work.”

  He pinches me on the hip. “I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about something else entirely.” His fingers trail up my side and disappear under my hair, massaging my scalp with the perfect amount of pressure. “I’m so fucking into you, Ash.”

  For a moment, I simply absorb his statement, reveling in the knowledge that, as my mother would say, we’re smitten with each other. I flip over to face him and place my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close. “Same.”

  He draws back. “You’re so fucking into yourself? That’s a bit conceited, don’t you think?”

  I lay across him and drop my chin onto his chest. Our faces are close but not close enough to kiss. “No, Julian. I’m so into you.”

  He says nothing for a moment. Then he winds his hand under the curtain of my hair, grasps my neck, and pulls me down to within an inch of his lips. “Then it’s time to tell your brother, wouldn’t you say? I’m ready if you are.”

  He’s got more to lose here than I do, that’s for sure, but he’s ready to commit anyway. It’s inspiring. Makes me realize that committing to someone—or something—is an expression of love. And oh God, I do love Julian. “Okay, when he gets back, we’ll tell him.”

  “Ash, if you want me to do it alone, I will.”

  I shake my head and grab his hands, pressing them to my chest. “No, we’re a team. We’ll do this together.”

  But there’s something else I need to do on my own.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Julian

  ONE OF THE many benefits of dating my roommate is that I no longer worry about freeballing in my home. A second benefit: She appreciates it, too. After the long day I’ve had, diving into my sweats sans underwear and sitting in front of the couch with my woman by my side sounds like heaven. Bonus points if it leads to lazy sex followed by at least six hours of sleep.

  The front door to my condo flies open before I can fit my key into the lock. Ashley pulls me inside, her eyes flickering with excitement. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

  “Well, hello to you, too,” I say as I open my arms out for a hug.

  She snuggles into my body, cups my jaw, and plants a soft kiss on my lips. When she pulls back, she bats her eyelashes. “I know you’re tired, but I’d like to show you something.”

  I like the sound of that. Waggling my eyebrows, I walk her backward and ease out of my jacket.

  Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she laughs. “Not inside our place. We need to go out for me to show it to you.”

  Hmm. I don’t like the sound of that. But then my attention snags on something she said. Our place. She thinks of this as our place, and I love the sound of that. This weekend, sometime when we’re lazing on the couch, I’ll broach the topic of making our living arrangement a permanent one. It’s a selfish move, sure, because I want her with me all the time, but I’m hoping she feels the same way. “Do I have time to change at least?”

  She eyes her slim platinum wristwatch. “Nope.” And then she pulls me out the door.

  “Okay, okay.” I try to ease back into my jacket while she tugs me to the elevators. “Where are we going?”

  Her mouth curves into a mysterious smile. “It’s a surprise.”

  A TAXI DROPS us off in Silver Lake, a trendy neighborhood known for its hipster grunge and artisanal coffee shops.

  After stepping out of the car, I study the lamplit street and turn to her. “This is where you wanted to take me?”

  She bounces in place, her eyes glittering with excitement, and I can’t help soaking in the positive vibes. Whatever the surprise is, it’s making her glow. She takes my hand and points across the street. “There.”

  A brick-front establishment with a sign that reads Musicology sits in the middle of the block. “What am I looking at?”

  She blows out a breath as though the answer is obvious. “It’s a music store. Come.”

  We run across the street, and I follow her inside. She strides to the back, confidence in her step. Obviously, she’s been here before. Soon, we’re passing a dozen small music rooms, until
she stops in front of one. “This is my room,” she says with a smile. “Well, not my room all the time, but as of today I’m renting it, and I’ll be offering guitar lessons here starting next week.”

  I’m so blown away by her announcement that I step back and lean against the door across from hers. “Wait. You’ll be teaching music here?”

  She nods, her eyes wide and bright. “Yes, a few days a week until I phase out my job with the airline.” She worries her lip and watches me. “And I chose this location because the indie music scene is great in this neighborhood, or so one of my coworkers tells me. Figured I could see about getting a few gigs at bars and coffee shops in the area. Oh, and I signed up for open mic night at Muddy’s tomorrow night. Think you could come and cheer me on?”

  “Definitely.”

  She breathes out. “So that’s the surprise. I might go broke within a few months, my savings will only take me so far, and I’ll need to pay rent at some point, but I’d like to try.”

  My heart expands in my chest, full of happiness for her. She’s tamping down the doubt and aiming for the life she wants. I push off the wall, take her hand, and pull her close, my fingers tipping up her chin. “I’m so proud of you, baby. And don’t worry about rent. My place is bought and paid for.”

  She looks up at me, her brown eyes blinking. “Wait. You want me to stay with you? Indefinitely?”

  “I do. Would you like to?”

  She rises on her toes and leans in for a kiss. It’s tender and sweet, the latter because I can taste traces of sugar and berries on her tongue.

  “Someone had dessert already.”

  Her cheeks turn rosy. “Cherry hand pie from Whole Foods. It’s my new favorite.”

  I lick my lips as though I’m tasting her on my tongue. “You’re my new favorite.”

  Her eyes gloss over, and she gives me a sultry smile. “Let’s go home, then. I’d like to verify that fact.”

  I mimic a robot, my voice and movements stiff and measured. “Commencing verification process in T minus twenty.”

  WE DON’T GET beyond closing the door before we’re smashed together in a tangle of chests, arms, and mouths. She pulls down the bodice of her sundress while I chuck my shirt and jacket behind me.

  I’m toeing off my shoes when her tits appear in my line of vision. “Holy shit, Ash. No bra? If killing me was your goal, consider it done.”

  She laughs against my shoulder, her hands working quickly below her waist. I take a step back and see her panties drop to her ankles. They’re peach colored, just like the nail polish on her toes. I scramble to unbutton my slacks, but her hands get there before mine.

  She’s panting as she gives me instructions. “I’ll get the zipper. You get the condom. Please be quick.”

  My hand flies behind me to my wallet. If I don’t have protection in there, I will beat the shit out of myself and then turn my body over to her for a second pummeling.

  “Hurry,” she says as she pulls down my zipper and tugs my pants down my thighs.

  I’m still riding the high of her new venture. To me, it’s one of the hottest things she’s ever done. I want to be inside her and show her how fucking proud I am of her with each stroke. My fingers, the stupid fuckers, don’t want to cooperate, though, and I’m having trouble sifting through my wallet. Finally, I see the packet, and I actually think I might cry in relief.

  She sees the condom at the same moment she pulls my cock out of my boxer briefs. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” She grabs the packet out of my trembling fingers and sheathes me in seconds, shouting “done” like she’s just completed a Quickfire Challenge on Top Chef.

  I grab the skirt of her dress and bunch it up to her waist. “I’m sorry if I ruin it, but I need it out of the way.”

  Her eyes are drowsy and hooded, her cheeks suffused with heat. “S’okay. Don’t care.” I lean into her and slide a finger up her slit, but her hand comes down on me like a band of steel. Her eyes are fiery with determination. “No, I want you, not your fingers. And not in five minutes, not even in five seconds. Now.”

  More than happy to give her what she wants, I hook her leg over my arm, stretching her wide, and press my chest into hers until her back hits the door. She grasps my shoulders, her gorgeous breasts bouncing as she adjusts to the position. With my free hand, I guide my cock to her entrance, bend my knees, and push up into her in one fluid movement.

  Her high-pitched cry fuels me. So I pull out slowly and slam back into her.

  “Yes, that’s it, Julian. That’s it.”

  “Holy fuck, Ash. Your pussy is hot and tight, and I cannot believe how fucking good it feels to be inside you.”

  Her hands slip to my waist as I fuck her harder and faster. I can’t get enough of her, and I’m determined to make her come hard. I trail my free hand up her body and slide my thumb inside her parted mouth. “Bite down if you need to.”

  Her love-drunk eyes widen as I slam into her over and over again, and then she clamps down on my fingers, a whimper escaping her throat as she convulses around me. When Ashley’s coming down, I begin the climb, my finger still stinging from her bite. She leans over, that left-of-center smile turning wicked. “This pussy is yours.”

  Just as she expected, I detonate, my body shuddering against her as I grip her thigh. Several explosive aftershocks hit me before it’s over. Breathless, I lazily roam my hands over her body as we right ourselves. I try to catch my breath while I ease out of her, but it’s a challenge. “That was incredible.”

  She meets my gaze, her eyes soft and her mouth plump and relaxed. “It was.”

  Can it get any better than this?

  IT CAN’T.

  In fact, within a few days I discover it can only get worse.

  Fresh from his honeymoon and at my request, Carter saunters into SCM in the late afternoon wearing a hoodie, jeans, and his Blackfin sunglasses. The office stops churning, and half the personnel scramble to get a glimpse of him.

  I can easily picture his scrawny teenage chest as he dribbled a basketball in front of his house. My, how times have changed.

  He smiles at everyone and shakes a few hands as he approaches my office, his trademark charm in overdrive. We give each other a pound, and then he flops down onto one of the two armchairs facing my desk.

  “So now my best friend, the big agent, is summoning me to his office to update me on business matters?”

  I round the desk and sit. “Chill. I have reasons. And you’re going to thank me when you hear what I have to say.”

  He sits up. “You have my attention.”

  “First, how was your vacation?”

  He smiles, and his eyes light up. “Perfect. Spent most of it in bed. Hence, the perfection.”

  “And Tori?”

  “Back to work. And trying to convince Eva to move to LA.”

  “Good Lord. Those two together in this town?” I pretend to shudder. “Pray for everyone.”

  “I thought the same thing. Tori wants her here, though, and I want what Tori wants.”

  I grin. “Because you’re whipped.”

  “Definitely.” He looks around the office, impatient as usual. “So why’d you need to see me?” He tucks his chin into his chest, looks up at me, and bats his eyelashes. “I mean, other than wanting to see my handsome face.”

  I shake my head at him before speaking. “It’s confirmed. Barry Sanderson wants you to be the leading star in his next big-budget project, one the studio execs hope will be a franchise. Think The Matrix meets The Hunger Games with a little humor thrown in. He wants you to read the script, and you’ll need to do a few reads, of course, but he says he knows enough about your work to be confident you’re his top choice.”

  Carter leans forward and widens his eyes. “Holy shit.”

  “Holy shit, exactly. This is huge, man.” It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us both. Given that he’s uncharacteristically silent, I suspect he understands the significance of this development.

  Carter lean
s back in his chair and stares at me. “You read the script?”

  I shake my head. “No. We’d both have to sign a nondisclosure agreement before we can even see it, which is why I brought you in. Once he receives our NDAs, Sanderson will send a courier with two copies. Nothing’s definite, but this is the first step in a major deal if you like what you read.”

  He massages the back of his neck as he processes the news. After several seconds, he swipes his hand down his face and gives me a wow-this-is-happening smile. “Okay. Where do we go from here?”

  I pick up the folder with the nondisclosure forms. “I’ve read through them, and the legal department says this is standard verbiage, so take a look and if you’re cool with it, sign on the dotted line. I’ll get them faxed to Sanderson, and we should be good to go.”

  He rubs his hands together while he shakes his head. “Man, this is incredible.” He reads through the one-page agreement and signs it.

  “Give me a sec,” I tell him, and then I step out of my office and arrange for Marie to fax the agreements to Sanderson. Within a minute, I get an email from the director’s assistant letting me know a courier is on the way.

  When I return, Carter’s texting.

  “I’m going to pretend you’re not texting Tori after signing a nondisclosure agreement.”

  “You do that,” Carter says without looking up. “And there’s nothing incriminating in this text anyway. Just checking if she’s up for celebrating some undisclosed major news.”

  “Hey, you could do that at Muddy’s in Silver Lake. Your sister’s performing at open mic night.”

  He looks up from his phone. “She is? She didn’t tell us.”

  “Yeah. She figured you’d be wiped out and wouldn’t want to venture out. I promised I’d be in her cheering section, though.”

  He nods absently. “That’ll work.”

  And this will give us the opportunity to let him know Ash and I are together now. It’s a perfect setup.

  “What time?” he asks.

  Before I can respond, Sooyin rushes into my office without knocking, her expression grim. She skids to a stop when she spots Carter. “Oh shoot, sorry!”