Kissing Booth

by River Laurent

  Is it hot in here? I have no choice but to open my mouth. The meat slides in. Somehow, the action is so sexual and full of lust, I have to close to my eyes to block out the sight of his blue, blue eyes and the strange expression in them so that I can concentrate on tasting the meat.

  It’s like butter, practically melting on my tongue. It has a flavor I didn’t know existed in anything, especially not steak. After I get control of myself, yes, I managed not to groan like I did over the lobster, I open my eyes and shake my head. “Until a few years ago, I was convinced that I hated steak.”

  “Why is that?” he asks, a half-smile on his face.

  “Because my foster mother’s idea of cooking steak was slapping it down on the pan and going into the other room to check the weather forecast. She didn’t pay any attention to it. It wasn’t ready to eat until you could bounce it off the floor.” Even now the memory of meat burning makes me shudder. “I can still remember sitting there, chewing and chewing and trying to get it down my throat because of the finish everything on your plate rule we had in the house. Ugh, it was nasty. Like eating leather. Needless to say, I couldn’t understand why anyone would ever order beef at a restaurant.”

  “Reminds me of my mother’s cooking.” He chuckles. “She tried. She really did, but instead of making something simple, like spaghetti and meatballs, which, incidentally, is my favorite meal, she was always trying to make these extravagant dishes that would fail magnificently. But of course, we all had sit at the table and pretend it was good.”

  I smile at the thought of him as a small boy. “You can afford to eat like this, but your favorite dish is spaghetti and meatballs?”

  “Oh, hell, yeah. And a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich is my weakness.” He winks. “Another something you should know.”

  Those days when we had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner every damn day flash into my head, but I smile pleasantly. “You’re a man of mystery, Brock.”

  “You have no idea.” His eyes are inscrutable over the rim of his wine glass.

  It’s the nicest dinner I’ve ever had in my entire life, but the funny thing is, it would’ve been even if we’d eaten drive-thru burgers. It was special because of him.

  Chapter 20

  Dani

  I slip into my nightgown. Pale pink satin. It supposed to be for Vegas, but I couldn’t resist the lure of it. I look at myself in the mirror. It’s perfect with my chocolate hair. I feel downright dangerous in it.

  It must be the wine, still making my blood pump hotter and faster than usual.

  What is it about him, about this penthouse, about this night that makes me feel so sexy? I might as well be a different person. Sure, Luke and I slept together. Not a lot thought. He was pretty much always in the mood, but between work and school I was always tired.

  Never once have I ever felt like this.

  Sensuous, alive and intensely aware of my body in ways I’ve never been before. Even the way I move is different. I notice it when I walk past the full-length mirror. Who is this woman? She’s so confident. So sure of herself. She even sways her hips as she walks. I move closer, examining the way the satin skims my curves like water flowing over me. I can’t stop touching it, it’s so soft and silky.

  My cheeks are still flushed from the wine. I need some water if I’m going to get away without feeling like hell tomorrow. There’s a matching robe on the foot of the bed, which I belt firmly before going towards the stairs.

  Brock’s bedroom door is closed. I imagine him in bed and wonder what he’s wearing. Does he own pajamas, or does he sleep in his boxers? Or does he go to bed naked? My nipples harden before I can keep the thoughts at bay.

  I can only blame this on the wine for so long.

  It’s better for me to hurry downstairs, get my water and get to bed. The worst thing I can do right now is think about him that way, even if it will help my performance over the weekend. It will only hurt to give him up when it’s all over if I start developing feelings for him.

  Downstairs, it’s silent and still. With the almost all of the lights off, except a few wall scones. I walk through the dim spaces and go to the kitchen. It is like a sanctuary, lit only by the light over the stove. I wonder if this room ever even gets used. Brock doesn’t seem like the type to cook for himself. Who would in his position? I haven’t seen any staff around the place, though I suppose there could be when he’s hosting a dinner party or something.

  I walk quickly across the cold marble floor, my feet hardly making any sound, and open the fridge. To my surprise, it is stuffed full with all kinds of food. When I was cleaning it yesterday, there was nothing in it except some lemons, bottles of champagne, water, and tonic. I wonder if it’s for my benefit. Surely not.

  It’s probably a good idea to take two bottles, so I do before heading back to the stairs. A gust of air blows my robes against my legs, and I shiver. Is this apartment really that drafty? I look around for the source of the air and, gasp when I find it.

  There he is, standing on the balcony with his back to me, looking out over the city. My heart starts thudding against my ribcage. He looks so unapproachable, so insular. What must it be like to be as powerful as he is? He probably feels like a king, standing there looking down over his kingdom. I try to imagine what must be running through his head.

  Maybe he’s thinking about her.

  About watching her get married this weekend. Something twinges in my chest. Jealousy. I wish I was her. What it must be like to have a man like him pining for me? He’s been good to me. I can’t help but warm to him. Actually, it’s more than that, but I don’t think too much about exactly how I feel about him. So I’ll just call it gratitude. I’m grateful to him. He’s been kind and supportive and generous, heaven knows. He doesn’t have to do half of what he’s done for me so far. The clothes, maybe even the food in the fridge. The over the top payment and I don’t even want to know what he spent on tonight’s dinner.

  I know I should leave him there.

  I should go upstairs and forget I ever saw him standing there with the city lights illuminating his body. There’s tension in his shoulders and back like he’s thinking about something that doesn’t make him very happy. I have to go out there and at least try to make him feel better. I owe him that much, at least.

  He turns his head when I say, “Hey.”

  Chapter 21

  Dani

  “Can’t sleep?” His voice is neutral, and his face in the shadows, so I can’t make out his expression.

  “I came down for something to drink and wondered if you were all right, standing out here like this.” Dang, it’s chilly. Downright cold. My nipples are like rocks when I reach him and I’m suddenly very aware of the thin satin between my skin and the night air. And him. Crossing my arms over my chest helps.

  “You’ll catch cold out here,” he warns softly.

  “So will you.”

  “I’m not half-naked.”

  “Neither am I, the last time I checked. I’m fully covered. And thank you, by the way.”

  “For?”

  “For this, for everything. I didn’t need nightgowns, you know. I brought my own. And no one is going to see them.”

  “It’ll be better for you to live in the role.”

  “Rich girls dress like this for bed?”

  “Some do.” He turns to me, leaning against the railing.

  “Am I doing all right as your fiancée so far?”

  He nods slowly. “If you carry on doing this good, you’ll end up convincing me that you are my fiancée.”

  “Ha, ha,” I say, but my heart skips a beat.

  “Is being my fiancée what you thought it would be?”

  “I’ve never been engaged, so I don’t have anybody to compare you to…” I grin. “But you’re doing fine. Better than I could’ve expected.”

  “Really? Even though I’ve never given you an engagement ring?”

  “Oh, my gosh!” I gasp, forgetting about coverin
g my chest as my hands fly to my mouth. “I forgot.”

  “I guessed you had.” He chuckles. “But I didn’t. My fiancée deserves an audaciously, insanely expensive ring.”

  “But I would never—”

  “…Feel comfortable wearing something like that,” he finishes. “Yes, I know. But this coming weekend isn’t about you, is it? And it isn’t about your comfort.”

  “I thought you said you’d never make me wear something that would make me feel uncomfortable?” I tease.

  His eyes twinkle. “I think we agreed to no porn star fetish clothes. But I don’t remember any discussions about impressive rings.”

  I shrug. “Okay. Why not? It’s all pretend, anyway. I don’t know what I’m thinking. You’re being so generous. Thank you.”

  He slides a hand into the back pocket of his pants.

  I gape at him. “Wait. Now? I didn’t think you were going to give it to me now!”

  “Give it to you?” He arches an eyebrow. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  “Or maybe I’m not talking dirty, you just have a nasty mind.” Whoa. Did I just say that?

  I guess I did, since his smile widens, and grows more wicked. “It’s all your fault. I feel downright filthy whenever you’re around.”

  “Down, boy.” I giggle, flushing all over.

  “You’re right, of course. This is a very serious event.” He clears his throat, wiping all traces of a smile off his face. “I’m asking my fake fiancée to marry me, after all.”

  “This is the most romantic situation of my entire life,” I deadpan.

  He bursts out laughing. “You’re ruining the moment I’ve been carefully practicing for a lifetime.”

  I mime zipping my lips shut and throwing the key over the balcony.

  “Dani Saber will you be my fake fiancée this weekend?”

  “Yes. A million times, yes.” I clutch my hands together like a princess in a Disney movie, and flutter my eyelashes as if I’m about to swoon.

  A wry smile lifts one corner of his mouth. “All right, smart ass. Here you are.” He pulls out the small, velvet box and flips it open to reveal a ring which makes my jaw drop.

  It sparkles like a star from a dark surface. My heart stops for a second. I reach for it, then I pull my hand back.

  “Why did you do that?” he asks, taking the ring from the box.

  “Do what?”

  “You pulled back at the last moment.”

  “I—I, nothing.”

  “You wanted it didn’t you?”

  I cross my arms and shrug. “It’s a very beautiful ring. That would have been a normal reaction for any woman.”

  He stares at me. “No it was more than that. It stirred something in you, didn’t it? You denied yourself what you want in the depths of your heart.” He smiles gently. “Rightly so, seeing as how it was one of the rings I liked best when I went to Tiffany’s today.”

  “You said you had to work.”

  “Buying a ring is work for me,” he says dryly. He takes my hand and holds it up, positioning the ring at my fingertip. “I must warn you; this ring isn’t one of the things you can keep. It’s on loan.”

  “I understand.” I wouldn’t even know what to do with it once I got home, anyway. What would I do with a zillion carat emerald-cut diamond? The insurance alone would bankrupt me.

  He pushes the band along my finger. Once the cool platinum band is in place, he pats the back of my hand, in an almost fatherly gesture.

  I look up at him and our eyes lock as all of a sudden—the mood changes. How freaking bizarre, but this doesn’t feel fake. I must be going mad. The wine. Of course, the wine. Obviously, this isn’t real. He clearly said, the ring has to go back.

  He raises my hand to his lips. “You deserve a ring like this,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “And you deserve to know what it feels like to not hold yourself back from what you want deep in your heart.”

  I can’t breathe. I’ll never breathe again. God, why can’t this be real? Why can’t I really have something like this? Someone like him?

  He lowers my hand and looks deep into my eyes, moving closer until the warmth of his body and the scent of his skin are the only things in the world. Not even the massive engagement ring matters right now. Nothing does except Brock and the web of breathless desire he’s weaving around me.

  When he catches my lower lip between his own, I lean into the kiss and let him wash over me. I can’t believe this. It’s not just a kiss—oh, no. That would be like comparing the piece of meat he gave me at dinner to the steak I grew up eating. It’s on an entirely different level. An entirely different plane of existence. His mouth on mine, moving slowly. Drawing it out. Making me groan from a place deep down in my center, a place only he’s ever been able to touch. All through one simple, firm but gentle kiss.

  It stays gentle for only so long.

  When he knows how darn affected I am, his hands slide around my waist until they’re pressing into my back and pulling my body closer to his. I feel him so acutely through the satin, and he can feel me. My skin warms at his touch and I wind my arms around his neck to hold on as he slowly drives me crazy and my knees go too weak to keep me standing. His tongue slides along the opening of my mouth before probing inside, exploring me as fireworks go off in my head. He groans, his hands pressing harder, the need between us growing like a fire which threatens to consume us both.

  I want it to.

  Yes, I want it with every fiber of my being. I want his hands on me and his lips, oh, his lips, his tongue and all of it. All of him. All night long and into the morning, again and again. I want to touch him everywhere and taste his skin and listen as he whispers my name in the darkness. My entire body seems to sizzle, and my nerve endings feel like they dancing and singing. Every cell in my body is desperate for satisfaction. But no. There will be none tonight.

  I can’t.

  We can’t.

  My eyes fly open.

  It takes every ounce of strength in my body and soul to pull away. It has to be done. We can’t take this any further, because he loves somebody else. He still loves her. Whoever she is. And I won’t be the woman who gets used and hurt. Not like this. Not when I know his heart is pining for another woman and I’m just a body in the dark.

  He’s breathing heavily, nearly panting, and his erection is so strong I fear it will break the zipper of his slacks. I’m already wet, was from the moment our lips met, but the sight of his hard on makes me crave him inside me.

  “We can’t do this.” I gasp, shaking my head, stepping away, hoping the cool night air will take away some of the burning in my cheeks. Maybe it will cool me off, too.

  “Dani, wait a second.”

  “No. Please don’t. You’re in love with another woman. We have an arrangement and it doesn’t include sex. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I was available. I don’t drink much and all that wine went straight to my head.” I manage a wobbly smile. “I did really have a good time tonight though. Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome, but—”

  “I should go back inside now. To sleep.” I can’t look at him anymore. If I do, he’ll pull me under again and I might not be able to make my way up to the surface this time. I want him too badly.

  He doesn’t try to stop me. He’s forceful, but he knows how to take no for an answer.

  “One more thing.” I stop, turning my head to the side. “I would like for our agreement to be put in writing and signed by the two of us before we leave on Friday morning. I want to be sure the terms are set in stone before we go.”

  “Of course.” He’s all business now. There’s none of that breathless lust in his voice anymore.

  Good thing. Neither of us needs it.

  Chapter 22

  Dani

  “Everything in order?” He nearly vibrates with impatience as he waits for me to go through the contract he’s drawn up. It is a simple agreement. No lawyer jargon and no room for m
isunderstanding. Basically, I agree to do my best to convince everybody of the charade that we are engaged and in return, I get the money. There’s also a bunch of information about how the money will be transferred to me, and that all seems to line up.

  “Yes, this seems to cover everything,” I say softly.

  I sign beneath his signature on both copies while his bespectacled lawyer, who had stood next to him with a poker face, witnesses the signing.

  I put the pen down and look up.

  There is a satisfied smile on Brock’s face.

  He presses a button in the panel beside his seat. “Let’s get rolling.”

  The pilot confirms his order and within moments, the jet starts moving.

  I run my hands, my nails all glossy with overlays over the soft seats and admire the luxury surrounding me. I didn’t know a jet could be like this. It’s more like a hotel than anything else. Aside from the seats, which are of course necessary, there are two bedrooms and a conference room.

  He showed me around before we took our seats and reviewed the contract. He was very businesslike about it.

  I suspect it has to do with the way I refused him on Tuesday night, but I couldn’t help it. I still think it was the best decision for both of us. We would’ve only complicated things if we’d taken things any further. Sure, it sucked. Hard. And it still sucks while I can’t stop wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped it. How incredible it would’ve been…

  But no.

  This is a business arrangement, plain and simple. No point breaking my heart over something I plainly can never have. I made the right choice. If his ego is a little hurt, there’s nothing I can do about that, but settle in and get ready for the weekend. It’s a good thing I don’t naturally get airsick, because my stomach is already twisted in knots at the thought of what I’ll face when we arrive.

  I don’t have to wait long before finding out exactly what I’m up against.