Fake Fiancé Next Door_A Small Town Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  Babs is quiet a minute, studying my face like she’s seeking answers to questions she hasn’t asked. “Perhaps he loved you as well,” she says gently and I feel tears stinging in my eyes.

  “There, there,” She says, pulling me into a hug. “The heart wants what it wants. I’m not sure I approve of your method, but you’re here and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Please don’t tell him,” I whisper, needing to know she’s in my corner.

  She pulls back to look down at me as if I’ve missed a very vital detail. “Oh, darling, he’s going to find out.”

  I shake my head, denying it, though I know she’s right. He’ll find out. I always knew he would. How do I come back from this? Can I fix it? Because even though the engagement is a sham, how is he going to react to the very real lie I’ve told him?

  “But I won’t be the reason he finds out,” she says and I smile through my tears.

  “Thank you,” I whisper as she wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the bathroom. When the door closes, she turns to me and cleans up my running mascara.

  “Beautiful,” she says, beaming at me and I can’t help but laugh.

  “I’m a mess,” I say, glancing at my reflection. It’s true. My nose and cheeks are red and my eyes are clearly watery. Babs takes my chin and turns my face so I’m looking at her.

  “You look like a girl in love,” she says gently. “It’s not always ups. There are downs and how you get through those defines you; not your best moments.”

  I pull her into a hug, realizing that she’s right. How Clint deals with finding out who I am will define him. And it’ll also be the reason I stay… or the reason I run away. Again.

  “Let’s get out to dinner, shall we?” Babs says and I stop her.

  The lie, the farce is too much. “Why is Flint doing this?” I need to know the reason why Clint needs to be married to take his place as his father’s son. I know Clint doesn’t need the money. He just wants to be recognized on his merits, which seem to outweigh the list his father requires.

  “Clint’s father is…” Babs stares off into space as if seeking an answer, “he’s worried Clint never worked hard enough for things. Money is easy to come by. Even women are easy to come by,” she gives me an apologetic smile, but I know she’s referring to the kind of girls who flock to men with money. “But a wife? A family? He needs that balance to show he’s willing to work for something real.”

  Clint

  May is beautiful as she talks with my parents over dinner. I can hardly take my eyes off her. Even when Grace comes and asks to sit on her lap, she’s more than willing to stop everything and take my daughter on her knee like a mother.

  It’s as if my life has suddenly become whole and I’m an idiot stumbling through the motions. Grace is happy with May. Mom and May are already thicker than thieves, and dad won’t stop congratulating me.

  It’s fucking amazing.

  And heartbreaking.

  Grace looks at me from May’s lap, her face alight with joy. “May said I can have her cake!” May looks up at me, her eyes sparkling as she flashes me an apologetic smile.

  I shrug, helpless. I don’t give a fuck about the cake. I care that this has suddenly become real. Someone is going to get hurt. But for now, I’m going to sit back and enjoy this night, enjoy my father’s approval, my mother’s love and joy, Grace’s energy, and those little smiles May keeps sending my way.

  As if aware I’m thinking of her, May looks over at me again, an unmistakable warmth in her eyes. And I want to pull her aside and remind her this isn’t real. That she can’t get in too deep. Even though I’ve told my parents Grace doesn’t know about the engagement because we’re protecting her, everything feels too right to be an act. It’s messing with my head.

  When we’re finally ready to leave, I hear May talking with my mother. “She’s such a light sleeper. I’ve been playing some music in her room, really low, at night. It seems to help keep her from bolting upright at every little gust of wind,” May says.

  “I used to do that with Clint,” Mom says right back in that low voice, “he’d never have slept a wink if I didn’t.”

  May smiles and gives Grace a huge hug. “Well,” she says to my daughter, “You be good, now.”

  Grace is solemn as she looks up at May. “I will.”

  But May grins, her playful face lighting up. “I know, I just had to remind you.” Just like that, Grace is hugging her tight and softly telling her she’ll miss her. Even now, with my dad bumping shoulders with me, I feel a tightness in my chest and an ache behind my eyes.

  This ticking time bomb is going to blow up in my face. I shouldn’t have dragged May into this. I fucked up. Badly.

  The whole drive home has been in silence. May is staring out her window, her pretty throat bared and creamy white in the dying daylight.

  “They liked you,” I say.

  She nods, but says nothing.

  The lack of feedback is killing me. I need to get in her head. I need to know if she hates me. But she keeps her focus on something beyond her window and I seethe silently behind this wall she’s placed between us.

  When I finally pull up before the house, she’s quick to escape the truck and head into the house. I follow, needing to get to the bottom of what’s going on. Did she break? Did she tell them? I can’t imagine she would have and it not be trotted out at dinner.

  “May,” I say and she turns, her lips parting. And in her eyes, I see tears. “What’s wrong?” I ask; all anger dissipating.

  “Your parents are amazing,” she whispers, her eyes tortured.

  And I wrap her up in a hug. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, “we can stop this now.” I’m not going to hurt her, not going to hurt everyone for my selfish need for my father’s approval. I’ve gotten along just fine without it up until now.

  But, with her in my arms, I realize I need something else. Taking her chin in my fingers, I kiss her lips. She melts, her tongue instantly seeking mine. There’s a new fire to her, a spice that destroys my will to stop.

  With a growl, I begin to move her back through the house. Her hands find the hem of my shirt and she tugs it up. Our lips only part long enough for the shirt to pass before we’re kissing again. Behind her back, I work the zipper I’d helped her with earlier tonight. Then we’d been proper, distant, even.

  Now we’re like two totally different people as I force the top of her strapless dress down. Leaving her lips, I press a kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat. I’ve never craved anything like I crave her right now, in this moment.

  She whimpers as the dress flutters to the floor. It settles into a puddle of cotton at her feet and I’m quick to notice her lack of underwear.

  I groan. She was naked under that dress all night…

  I press my lips to the space between her beautiful breasts and she gasps. Her hands find my shoulders and she grips like she’ll fall if she doesn’t hold on for dear life.

  “Clint,” she whimpers, but I’m busy kissing her pert, pink nipple. Turning her so the bed is behind her, I lower her back, needing to taste more of her. All of her. I need all of her.

  Her hips buck up into me and she begins talking. “I’ve needed this for so long, I’ve wanted it...” she moans, her body reacting as my teeth scrape along the full curve of her breast. She’s delicious, a drug that’s taking hold as I taste her, sample her, enjoy her.

  She’s mine.

  May

  I need to tell him that I’m a virgin, who I am, how I know him, how I wound up on his doorstep… but while he’s kissing me like this it’s impossible to focus on anything but the sensations exploding in me.

  I didn’t think it would be like this; this all-consuming, impossibly sexy fire that’s eating every inch of me alive.

  Clint’s lips find mine again and I kiss him like I’m dying, like I’m drowning and he’s breathing life into my very lungs. I want him. I need him.

  His legs part mine and I open to him
, realizing that I’m not only naked, but vulnerable and spread before him on his bed. I know how this ends and I don’t care. I’ll deal with consequences later.

  I grab his belt and unbuckle it, loving the clink of the metal on metal as it comes free. I free the button next, then the zipper. He leaves me long enough to stand up and drop his pants. His boxers follow, and I see him for the first time.

  And terror ignites in my blood. He’s much too big. There’s no way that will fit in here.

  But he’s back on me in an instant and I’m lost to his kiss. Our tongues dance and I push him back a bit.

  “I’m not on birth control,” I whisper, my voice sounding painfully shy.

  But Clint growls at me as if he finds my caution so very sexy it’ll be his undoing. He reaches past me to the nightstand, then plants a kiss on my throat. I lose myself in the heat of his lips on the soft skin of my neck.

  In a moment, he’s back on top of me and I feel my heart thrashing in my chest like a wounded animal. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I feel him slip a hand between us and he hesitates, the tip of him poised at the heart of me.

  His eyes meet mine and I sense he’s giving me a chance to say no, to back out. Instead, I kiss him. As our tongues meet, I feel him press into me. Pain comes first, and I gasp. Breaking the kiss, I press my cheek to his, unsure what to do.

  He’s slow; not forcing in, but not backing off, either.

  “You’re so sexy,” he whispers, his stubble scraping my cheek. “I want you so bad, love. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, the word more of a breath than an actual reply. He pushes in further and I feel my body yielding to him, opening for him, accommodating his girth and width. It’s an incredible sensation. I grip his shoulders, loving how his skin feels under my fingertips.

  Finally, he pushes home and I feel an odd sensation of being whole. When he pulls back, I grip him and whimper. But he’s quick to push back in and the resulting burst of pleasure is almost too much to bear.

  But he gives me a kiss and suddenly the word shifts and I’m on top. The feeling of him within me is enough to steal my breath, but I’m compelled to shift, to rock my hips forward. It almost feels as if he’ll split me, but there’s so much pleasure in it I can’t stop.

  The little button of pleasure is grinding on him with every motion of my hips and I can’t stand it. His hands find my breasts and suddenly it’s like every nerve ending in my body is lighting up with pleasure.

  It’s impossibly perfect, so incredibly amazing I feel my breath leaving in little gasps. Bracing my hands on his headboard, I feel myself galloping headlong toward orgasm. Never has it felt so good. This isn’t like touching myself, this is a whole new high of pleasure and I need more.

  “Sweet May,” Clint says, his eyes on me as I ride him without shame. Our eyes lock and I see something, a flicker, something like recognition.

  But it doesn’t stop me, no, it drives me right over the edge.

  Pleasure shatters my vision as white blinds me. I hear myself mewling with pleasure, but it’s like the sound is coming from someone else. My body jolts and jerks like my muscles forgot how to work together and move, but the pleasure radiating out from my core is enough to take my breath away.

  “Clint,” I whisper as if he can help me.

  But he’s lost to his own pleasure. I feel it as he swells within me, every pulse of my pussy squeezes him tight, but he’s growing more than I imagined possible and it’s putting sweet and painful pleasure on that sensitive spot within me.

  Sudden warmth fills me and I whimper with pleasure and collapse on his chest.

  Moments later, I’m suddenly aware he’s stroking my hair. He reaches between us and does something, but it’s not invasive, and I relax, enjoying the warmth of him and the chill in the air.

  As the pleasure fades, reality crashes back down on me.

  I’ve made a huge mistake.

  Clint

  It’s amazing how clear everything is post orgasm. I’m aware that I’m screwing everything up. I want May. Really want her.

  But then again, I know that asking her to take on my child and this rough life isn’t fair. But as she rests on my chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal, I’m struck by the fact that this feels right.

  My fingers slip through the silk-like strands of her hair. She’s beautiful in every way, and I’m regretting asking her to do such a terrible thing. But the fact that she was willing to leaves me sure that she’s got some feelings for me.

  She lifts her head and her eyes meet mine. There’s a seriousness to her and a deeply buried pain, and again, I get that odd, nagging feeling that there’s something else, something I’m missing.

  Just like that, she looks away and all the warmth within me begins to fade. She grabs the sheet and pulls it around herself like she’s hiding. I touch her shoulder and she jolts before pulling from my grasp without looking at me.

  The snub is clear, but I’m shocked. What did I do?

  “I should go,” she whispers and I sit up as she perches on the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet around herself.

  With my heart aching, I try to stop her. “Why?” I ask, needing to know why she’s doing this. But she refuses to look at me as she stands, carefully hiding behind the sheet.

  I get up as well, as concerned as she is about hiding behind sheets or invisible walls. Taking her shoulders in my hands, I turn her to face me. But her face is lowered and her hair falls forward and hides her features from me.

  Capturing her chin I lift her face. Tears shine bright in her eyes and I wonder what I’ve missed. Her blue eyes slash back and forth between mine and I struggle to find the words to ask the questions looming between us.

  “Don’t,” she whispers, the single word as forceful as a sucker punch. The moisture that has gathered in her lashes sparkle as a lone tear slips down her cheek. My thumb instantly swipes it away and she blinks, her face an echo of pain that slices me deeply.

  “What are you hiding?” I ask, needing to know the truth. “Whatever you’re running from, you’re safe,” I say, needing her to know what’s in my heart. I don’t care what is in her past. I care about her, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

  But she shakes her head. Without another word she pulls from my grasp and leaves my room. And as I look after her, I feel more alone than I have in a very long time.

  Maybe I’m cursed. Every woman that comes into my life leaves.

  I return to my bed. At the foot of it, her dress still lies in a puddle of fabric. Feeling mocked, I pick it up and remember how she looked in it. How she smiled at me throughout dinner. How my parents loved her.

  Damn it.

  Falling back on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, thinking about May’s big beautiful blue eyes. What the fuck did I do to screw this up? Folding my arms behind my head, I puzzle over things when a small sound grabs my attention.

  It’s like the tiny mews of a lost kitten.

  And it clicks; she’s crying.

  Overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness, I struggle. Should I go comfort her? Or am I the source of her pain? Would I make matters worse?

  Fuck.

  May

  I wake, feeling like garbage.

  My phone screen is lit like I’ve got a message. Which is odd. No one has messaged or called me since I’d blocked him.

  The text makes my heart sink right to my toes. It’s Katie.

  Sara! I’m coming home. Visit meeee! <3

  No, no, no, no… this can’t be happening.

  I sit back down on the bed, feeling lightheaded and sick at heart. This is the end. It’s all over now. There’ll be no hiding who I am anymore.

  Kate won’t be okay with this like Babs was. She’ll ask me what the fuck I’m doing, and she’ll be pissed I’m messing around with Clint.

  Fuck.

  I stare at the message until my eyes begin to blur. A knock at my door startles me and I look up. “Come in,” I say, totally focused on
this new fire I need to douse.

  The door opens and Clint stands in my doorway, totally imposing with his arms crossed and a defiant refusal to look at me.

  “I’ve got some family coming into town,” he says, matter-of-factly, and I nod, wondering what this has to do with me. I expected today to be awkward, but he’s distant and aloof. Which is fine with me. That’s less messy. After the sudden break I’d had last night with the weight of all the lies and secrets stressing me out, I’m not surprised he’s avoiding me like the plague. Hell, I’d avoid me. I probably look totally unhinged.

  Maybe I am.

  Still, Clint is quiet as if I should be saying something.

  “Are you asking me to keep up the lie?” I ask, feeling weary. This would be funny if I weren’t so very tired of all of it. I want to just come clean now, I want to unburden my soul to everyone and to hell with them and their judgments. I ran away once. I lived through Dillon. I can live through anything.

  “Who are you running from?” he asks, and I shake my head. I’m only barely able to think of his name now. In the weeks that have followed, every day that has passed is another victory. He has no hold over me. I’m even to a point now where he doesn’t dominate my every waking moment.

  I didn’t jerk awake this morning feeling like he was coming home drunk and angry again.

  And I’m not about to open up about him, or let him rule my life whether in my head or outside of it. So I switch back to the conversation at hand.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask.

  “What would you like to do?” he asks, and I struggle with the very real fear coursing through me.

  But it’s time to come clean. About some things, at least. “I can’t fake it. Katie won’t be fooled.”

  His whole posture changes from aloof to intense. It’s a subtle shift, but the whole mood of the room changes.

  “How did you know…?” he asks, studying me carefully.