by Piper Rayne
I shake my mom’s hand. Evan frowns and doesn’t say anything except that she has to go prepare the cream cheese for tomorrow.
Our moms squeal, oblivious to Evan’s mood. Why isn’t she happy about this? Our plan is coming together and now we have help. Isn’t this what we wanted?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Evan
I’m thinking we made a complete mistake starting this train wreck of a plan. Every day a new revelation. Every day a new problem to fix. A new lie to tell. Now our moms tell us that they’ve kept their friendship a secret all these years? What the hell?
“Can you believe it?” Elsie asks when I reach the back. “Mom told me the other night, but only because I caught the two of them laughing over coffee at a diner in Peekskill.”
Elsie doesn’t care because it doesn’t affect her life, but it does affect mine. I had to end my friendship with Seth because I respected my parents.
“Els, give us a minute,” Seth says, joining us in the back.
“Um. No. This isn’t your bagel shop.” She shoos him away like a gnat. “Go to your own shop.”
“Sure thing, and I’ll take Evan with me.” Seth smiles wide, taunting her.
She blows out a big breath. “You’re going to be an infuriating brother-in-law, you know.”
Seth puts his hands on either side of me on the butcher block counter in the kitchen, caging me in. “Don’t worry, I’m really lovable,” he says to Elsie’s retreating back. “Hey, you.” He dips his head to look into my eyes. “You good?”
I shrug. “I don’t think I can do it. I feel spiteful now. I wanted to scream that they don’t know anything because we’re not real.”
Dejection crosses his features for a moment. “That attitude’s not going to get us to the end game.”
That’s right. It’s a game. It’s all a game. I nod. “But how could they keep their friendship going and—”
He steps closer and presses his finger to my lips. “I know. I know.”
Does he? Is he just as mad that we didn’t have to wait this long to explore our connection? That maybe we could’ve been one of those childhood-friends-to-lovers couples? Maybe he would’ve convinced me to go to college and not stay here. Maybe he would’ve stayed behind. Who knows what we could have been together?
His phone rings, but he doesn’t answer it. “They’re helping us, so let’s play it cool for now. We’ll figure everything else out later.”
I have to wonder if “everything else” includes whatever is happening between us.
His large hand cradles my neck and his thumb runs across my collarbone. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I say.
Despite my mood, a laugh bubbles up—and he swallows it down with a kiss that I’m afraid one day I’ll have to live without. Man, Seth Andrews gives the best kisses. Kisses that change your whole perspective on something.
“Now have a great day and meet me at the studio after work. It’s about time we do that shoot, don’t you think? Plus, I had a cancelation and gave Madison the night off. So it’ll be just me and you.” He pecks me on the lips.
“And a bed and a camera,” I deadpan.
He chuckles, stepping away from me. “And a bed and a camera. I promise I don’t bite.”
He winks and leaves out the back door before I can pull him back for another soul-crushing kiss.
I set up the studio before Evan arrives. With everything going on, we both need a release, something fun. She’s ready to spill our secret, and I’m worried that these feelings are setting me up for heartbreak.
Ever since she was here a few weeks ago, I’ve wondered what it would be like to shoot her. But I want her au naturel. Not with layers of makeup or outfits she doesn’t usually wear. I want the real Evan Erickson lying in this bed, her naked body surrounded by silk.
“Seth?” she calls to me, inching the door open.
“I’m here.” I step back from adjusting the lighting.
She’s already biting her lip, and her hands are crossed in front of her stomach. She’s worried and scared and I want to free her from self-consciousness.
“Come here.” I hold out my hand and she eats up the distance between us.
“I stopped at the store and bought a few things. I know you said not to, but…” She’s still in her jeans and T-shirt from the shop.
Once I get her in my arms, I kiss her neck and collarbone, unable to ever have enough of her. It’s another troublesome sign, but I push it from my mind.
“Is this your way of telling me you want to wear lingerie for me outside of the studio?”
She giggles. “Maybe.”
“I hope so. But first I want you in your panties and bra, if that’s okay.”
She groans. “I’m not sure about this.”
“Just go behind the screen and undress. It’s just me and you.” I point at the room divider and walk out to the lobby.
I lock the front door and make sure the red light is on just in case. When I return and grab my first camera and lens, she tiptoes to the bed and crawls under the sheets.
“Oh, shy kitten,” I say. “If I pet your pussy, maybe you’ll open up for me.”
She pulls the sheet down and her mouth hangs open. “Please tell me you do not say that to all your clients.”
I wink. “Just my favorites.”
She shakes her head. She’s grown to understand when I’m joking and I fucking love that about her.
“Just be yourself,” I say, and I snap a picture of her peeking out from the sheet.
“I can’t.” She throws out her arms and pounds her hands on the sheet. I snap a picture. “This is not comfortable for me.”
“Think about last night when I stripped your T-shirt off and grabbed your tits.”
A flush hits her cheeks and spreads down her body.
“Remember my fingers over your silk panties, coated with your wetness. The way I slid them to the side and teased you with my finger. Damn, you felt so fucking good.”
My dick makes his presence known because he remembers and would love to repeat that act with him as the star, not my fingers.
I climb the ladder. One of her legs slides out of the sheet now, tan and toned and gorgeous against the white silk. I snap a picture. She’s growing used to the sound of the camera because that time she didn’t flinch.
“Evan, baby,” I say in a soft voice, using a pet name for the first time. She looks my way and I snap the picture before she can cover her face or duck under the covers. “Pull the sheet just under your left breast.”
She sighs but she does it, and I snap a picture of the black see-through bra with her hard nipple underneath.
“There you go. Can I get you to rise up on your knees?”
“Really?” she asks with a pained voice.
If I wasn’t enjoying myself this much, I’d probably say we could stop. But I know she needs this. To get out of her head, out of everything happening around her and just enjoy this.
I nod, snapping one picture after another, climbing down the ladder and rounding the back of the bed to get her from behind. “So gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous.” Coming around the front, I continue to take pictures. “One strap, let it fall.”
She pushes it off and my mouth waters at her delectable skin.
“Same with the other side.” This time, the camera is rewarded with the best shy sexy kitten look I’ve ever seen. I swallow hard, ignoring the feel of my cock pressing against my zipper. “Unclasp your bra.”
She sighs, a long breath leaving her pink lips, but reaches around to do as I instructed. I’m able to capture the moment just as the fabric falls off her breasts and her nipples are exposed.
“You’re doing great. Can you grab the bar?”
There’s a bar overhead and she wraps her hands around it.
“Arch your back.”
She does.
“Jut your ass out.”
She does, and damn, I’m never going
to make it through this. I tear off my shirt and she giggles.
“Sorry, you’re making me crazy right now,” I say.
Another giggle. “How do you take pictures of women all day then?”
“They aren’t you. I’ve never had this reaction while photographing anyone.” It’s like I’m thirteen and staring at my first pair of tits in a magazine. “Fair warning—this will end with both of us having a happy ending.”
“Promises, promises,” she says, but she lets go of the bar and slowly lowers herself back to the bed. “Come now.”
I shake my head. “This might be the last time I get you in this position. Sit still. I’m going to change the backdrop.”
She lies on the bed and fiddles with the sheet, her tits on display. Pride, or something like it, fills my chest that she feels comfortable like that in front of me.
“Nick Klein called today,” she says.
“Oh really? What did he want? Something with the show?” I look through the backdrops to find the one I want.
She nods. “He said he’s so happy that we’re doing this, and he can’t wait to work with us.”
She says us, but I wonder how much of it is really about us and not just her. Nick Klein definitely wants her. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. At the moment, I’m only in a fake relationship with benefits. There are no strings between us, and whatever loose strings there are will be cut off after the show airs. I can’t even think about that right now.
“That’s good. Did he say what’s next?”
“I guess they market it for the next month. Get the hype going, and he’ll be in town the week before. He mentioned investors coming to the show. That I—we should be prepared to talk to companies that might want to buy our recipes and produce them on a larger scale.”
“I didn’t even think about anything like that.” I change the backdrop to black. “I need you to ditch your panties.”
She slides her black lacy panties down her legs and tosses them across the room but hides under the sheets right away. No argument. This is progress.
“Yeah, I didn’t think of it either. I mean, what if someone wants to buy the recipe for your bagels or my family’s cream cheese? That would amazing.”
The shop talk helps as I shoot pictures of her in a black silk sheet and black backdrop with a low lighting I can enhance during editing. But eventually silence falls over us and my breathing labors from watching her shift and move along the silk. Her body parts sneak out and tease me. It’s getting harder and harder to stay behind the camera.
Finally after I wipe the sweat from my forehead for the twentieth time, she gets up on her knees and crooks her finger at me. That’s the last picture I snap before placing the camera down and jumping into bed with her.
She giggles as I kiss and fondle her while she makes quick work of my jeans. Before I can blink, my hard cock is poised at her entrance.
“Shit, we need a condom.” I groan.
I shift, but she places her hands on my shoulders. “I have an IUD and I’m clean. I got tested two weeks ago.”
“Me too. I go monthly with Knox and Jax.”
She nods. “I trust you, and I want to feel all of you inside me.”
The weight of her words hangs over us, but I refuse to let them pull me from the moment. “Your wish is my command.”
I slip into her hot pussy and gasp from sheer pleasure. Holy shit. I’ve never been bare inside a woman before, and I wasn’t prepared for the sensation that would hit every nerve ending.
“Are we going to move?” she asks with a smile.
I nod, but I close my eyes, trying to imagine my grandma’s face. Shit. That’s wrong.
“Seth?” she asks.
I nod again, more urgent, and concentrate on lenses and lighting and anything else in this room—anything except the fact that I’m bare inside Evan and can feel everything.
“Okay, I’m ready.” I pull out slowly then thrust back in.
She moans. But this isn’t going to be a marathon love-making session… I mean fucking. Because she feels too good. Everything about her is too much—her feel, her scent, the expression on her face.
At least I get her to come before I do, because no one wants to be even fake engaged to someone who can’t. And the more we continue this farce, the more I realize that I really do care what Evan thinks of me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Seth
I stop by The Bagel Place since Evan didn’t spend the night last night—okay, I’ll admit it, I missed her. She’s elbow deep in getting the morning orders out, so I grab a pair of plastic gloves and help. Her hair is braided down both sides of her head, but it’s still tucked under a hairnet.
“You don’t have to help,” she says, shuffling racks of baked bagels into cardboard boxes.
“Yes, I do. We’ve been over this already.”
“What did you do last night?” she asks a little absentmindedly. I’m not even sure she’s listening to me.
“Watched porn. I’ve got some new positions to try out.”
She doesn’t even flinch. Her mind is definitely somewhere else.
“Earth to Evan!” I wave my hand in front of her face.
“What?” She tips her head back. “I’m sorry. I’m so distracted. Nick Klein called me again.”
My jaw clenches. “Do I need to set the record straight with good ol’ Nick that I’m the only man in your life?”
She smiles. “Only for another three weeks.”
We’re coming close to the end of our fake engagement and I’m scared shitless of what I’ll feel like after it’s all over. Will I be okay going back to my life the way it was? Because one night away from her and I’m waking my ass up at seven with the hope of finding her needing my help. It hurts that Evan seems a-okay with the fact that this thing between us will be over soon.
I’m beyond hopeless.
“What did he want?” My voice lacks any kindness. The man either wants in her pants or—I have no idea what else. But he’s sniffing around like she’s a freshly painted fire hydrant and he’s gonna be the first dog to pee on her.
“He has a friend he wants me to meet.”
“Oh,” I say.
Her gaze meets mine. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Why is he so invested in you? He hasn’t called me.”
She giggles like, “why would he?” and I want to say because I signed those papers too. I’m in the show as much as she is, and Andrews Bagel is a damn great product, just like Ericksons’ cream cheese.
I stop my rambling mind for a moment. What the fuck? Where did that come from? Holy shit, it’s like my father took over my brain for a second.
“He told me he felt pressured to be in his family business when he was younger too, so I think he pities me.” She grabs the containers of cream cheese, pushing them into the indents in the packaging designed to hold them. “Nothing is going to come from it. I promise you that.”
“So, there’s a dinner tonight at my parents’ for Trevor’s return.”
My brother is back, but I haven’t seen him. My parents have kept him holed up in their basement like a prisoner. He’ll eventually have to live in the world and learn how to function without using.
“Is there a question in there?” She smiles, taking handfuls of boxes to the counter.
“Come with me. Technically you’re my fiancée, so you have to come. As long as Nick Klein hasn’t already called dibs.”
She scoffs and looks at me with disdain. “You can stop the jealousy act. We’re not really engaged.”
“So you keep reminding me.”
It sure feels like we’re in a relationship, but maybe that’s just me. I touch her and kiss her every chance I get, whether we’re alone or in front of people, but it’s not like she’s complaining. I mentally demand my hands and lips stay where they are when I tell her that I’ll pick her up at five.
The fact that she doesn’t try to kiss me goodbye annoys me, but she was
busy.
When I’m back outside, my phone rings in my pocket and I slide it over without looking at the screen because I need any distraction I can get to get out of my head.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hi, is this Seth Andrews?” a woman asks.
“Yes.”
“Great. My name is Ursula Dermak and I got your number from Blanca Mancini. You took the photos for their spread about New York City on their blog, correct?” she asks.
“I did.”
“Well, I own a gallery in Manhattan, and I’ve been looking for fresh artists. A friend follows the blog and showed me right away. I thought maybe you could come down and bring some of your work, check out the gallery. We’re not the biggest or the best, but we do have a loyal client base. Maybe we can throw some ideas around about how we could benefit one another?”
Excitement lights a fire in my belly. “I’d love to.”
We figure out what works for both of our schedules and arrange for me to bring some of my work to her gallery in two weeks. That will be the Monday after the engagement party—which is perfect, since I want to squeeze in a few more shoots and you never know what might happen with the weather. This might be the break that gets me out of the boudoir studio.
At five-thirty, I pull into my parents’ driveway. Evan and I walk up the path and through the back door. Everyone uses our back door because everyone is family to us. Except Mr. Erickson, I suppose.
I grab Evan’s hand. Ever since this morning when she reminded me twice that everything about us is fake, I’ve made sure I didn’t show her any affection. And yes, I’m fully aware that I’m acting like a child who holds a finger a half an inch from his brother and says “I’m not touching him.” Immature and annoying instead of just hashing it out with her. But the thought of pouring out everything that I’m feeling and her shitting all over it makes it easier to stay in our pretend bubble and leave it at that.
“Mom? Dad?” I call.
“We’re already seated,” my mom calls from the dining room.