A Model Fiancé

by Kaye, Nikky

  Interesting.

  She shifted around until her back was to the bar, and as she did, I braced my hands against it on either side of her. My legs spread out to accommodate Audrey’s legs, her heels hooked on the bottom rail of her stool and her knees demurely pressed together.

  I’d trapped her.

  “My eyes,” I repeated.

  She rolled hers. “Yeah, you know how to ‘smize,’ don’t you? It’s modeling 101.”

  Of course I did. But I smirked at her and even let it touch my eyes. “How about you demonstrate?”

  Audrey pursed her lips and swiveled away on the stool as much as she could while in the cage of my arms. She turned her head away in preparation, allowing me the privilege of admiring the curve of her shoulder. Then she swung back toward me. Her mouth was carved into a kind of rictus and the whites of her eyes flashed at me.

  I burst out laughing.

  She widened her eyes in an undulating motion, like a cartoon.

  “Oh god, please stop.” It was funny and creepy and sexy and silly and I couldn’t stop laughing.

  Her face relaxed. “No good?”

  “Sorry, I don’t think Tyra would approve,” I gasped, signaling the bartender for another couple of drinks.

  “What was wrong with it?”

  I was still chuckling when I turned back to her. “You looked like the Joker.”

  She folded her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up.

  Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

  “Fine, then you do it,” she said.

  “I’m not going to smize for you, at least not for free.”

  “Aha! There it is!” Her fingers flew to the sides of my eyes. “Your real smile!”

  I tried not to close my eyes at the sensation of her cool fingertips on my temples. “Maybe that’s just my ‘Audrey smile.’”

  “And that’s fake, not real?” She looked disappointed and dropped her hands.

  Nothing about what I was noticing and feeling about Audrey was false, but I couldn’t tell her that. She’d think I was crazy, or letting Vegas getto me. So I hedged my response.

  “Well, a real smile doesn’t happen all the time.”

  “Why not?”

  I couldn’t help but lift my hand to trace the pout of her bottom lip with my thumb. “It’s intimate,” I explained. “It’s saved for people you care about, because it comes out instinctively, without guile. It’s a kind of autonomic reaction. You’re powerless over it, which makes you vulnerable. So, yeah, real smiles are pretty rare.”

  We were both silent, the din of the bar surrounding us like a wave of white noise. It occurred to me that the smile on her face in the last few minutes was way more natural than what she’d been sporting earlier in the evening.

  “I think you’re right,” she said as she bent her elbow back to reach for her refreshed drink. Took a thoughtful sip. “Real smiles are rare. We spend too much time and money faking them, actually. Whitening treatments, braces, lipstick. Why? What’s the point?”

  “Hold on. I have to make an argument for good oral hygiene, here. Brushing and flossing regularly is not too much to ask.”

  She made a face. “That’s not what I meant. But think about it. Your job is about faking a smile.”

  Actually, my job was mostly about making clothes look good under the right lighting. But it was true that my face was famous, too. People weren’t hashtagging pictures of my clothes.

  Okay, maybe my crotch occasionally, but I couldn’t be held responsible for the whims of social media.

  “Audrey, people put on fake smiles every day. I just happen to get paid for it.”

  Snort. “Wish I could monetize that ability. I’d make a freaking fortune.” Then her lips pressed together as though she’d let too much out.

  I hated that she needed to fake her smile. It was now my goal in life to elicit authentic ones from her. “What do you think your smile is worth?” I asked her.

  She looked down at her lap. At the floor. At our legs, nestled together. “Nothing. Not much.”

  Anger flared in me, but my finger on her chin was light as I tipped her face up. “I disagree. I value your smile highly—always have. Well, maybe not back when you wore a retainer.”

  Her mouth curved slightly, then flattened again. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I haven’t had a lot to smile about recently.”

  “That is a goddamn shame, for sure. But don’t let one asshole ruin your life.”

  “One asshole, one job, one apartment, one—”

  “Did I say it’s a shame? I’m sorry.” I frowned, my heart squeezing for her. “It’s a fucking tragedy, is what it is.”

  “Oh, Dev,” she sighed. When she leaned her head forward and rested it on my chest, I stood as still as a statue. “Thanks. That’s nice of you to say.” She lifted her head and joked, “Maybe I should call FEMA. See if I can get some kind of disaster relief.”

  What would she say if I told her I’d pay to see her beam with unrestrained happiness? You know, the kind of smile that comes courtesy of a good orgasm or homemade ice cream. Or I could lick ice cream off of her until she smiled. That would work, too.

  “Everyone has different smiles,” I pointed out. “Ones for work, for friends, for family, for lovers…” I trailed off.

  “Lovers,” she repeated. Nodded slowly. Shifted on the stool.

  It was like an idea I left on the bar beside us like a cool drink. As a concept, I imagined it leaving a damp ring on a cocktail napkin.

  I narrowed my stance until our legs touched and dropped my voice so low it was almost a subsonic rumble. “So, which smile do you want me to unleash on you? The one for my mom or the panty-dropper?”

  Pause.

  Her eyes widened again but naturally this time before her forehead creased. “Your mom,” she finally said, but she blushed.

  “Hmmm. I think you’re scared of the panty-dropper.” I leaned into her to reach for the drink at her elbow. “It’s okay to admit it.”

  Her little gasp was right next to my ear, making me even more aware of her. “I-I’m not scared of it.”

  Liar. “Bock bock bock bock!”

  To my surprise, she tilted her head toward mine, her lips brushing my ear and making me shiver. “It won’t work on me, Dev.”

  Well, now I had to try it. “Are you double-dog daring me, Audrey?”

  “Not at all,” she said.

  When she unhooked her heels from the stool and slid off into my arms, I froze. Move back. My body didn’t obey my brain, too enamored with the sensation of her chest against mine. Our hips nearly touching. Our breath meeting in the closeness of the bar.

  Her head tilted back to look me in the eyes. I held my breath as something close to a sympathetic smile toyed with her lips.

  “Sorry, but I’m immune to it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. She pushed against my chest, and I stepped back to give her some space. With a little air and unspoken thoughts between us, she looked at me closely for a moment. Then she grabbed my shirt and pulled me down so she could whisper in my ear.

  “Your panty-dropping smile may be great,” she whispered, “but I’m not wearing any.”

  4

  Audrey

  When I walked—no, sashayed—away from Dev, there was a lot of multitasking going on.

  Simultaneously, I had to find the magical balance between my heels and my vodka intake and not faceplant, hold in the squee bubbling up in my chest, and make sure that my ass looked as good as possible.

  Two out of three ain’t bad, right?

  I got to the ladies’ room without incident, but once I locked the stall door, I had to lean up against it.

  Then I let it out.

  Squeeeeeee!

  If Dev were here now, he’d know that the grin on my face was one hundred percent real. For a moment I allowed myself to imagine him with me.

  Locking the door behind us because he couldn’t go one more minute without touching me.

>   Pushing me against the wall.

  Lifting me up on the sink.

  Spreading my legs.

  Slipping his hand under my skirt.

  My heart raced at the little fantasy. My lower body throbbed.

  It startled me. My libido had been hibernating since my break-up. Now, though, it seemed as though Dev Sharpe had come along and poked the sleeping bear with a stick.

  I had no intention of getting into another relationship—hell to the no—but for the first time in my life I was seriously considering a fling. Just the idea was making my pulse flutter and insides twinge.

  That physical reaction alone surprised me. For months I’d felt so disconnected from my body. It was easier to ignore it than hate it. But now it was like I was yanked back into it, and it wasn’t such a bad place anymore.

  What would it be like to have sex with someone hot, smart and safe? To let go and have fun in bed, with no expectations or commitment? It sounded scary—and awesome.

  Would he be interested?

  I took a deep breath and left the stall. I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink, trying to see what Dev saw. It was an exercise in futility, of course. I saw the flaws. I saw the neck with premature wrinkles from looking down at my phone and the nowhere-close-to-flat stomach, but maybe he saw something different.

  The hardest part about going through with this idea wouldn’t be propositioning Dev—it would be allowing myself to enjoy it without hang-ups. I wanted to be done with hesitation and self-doubt. I wanted to fling it all aside.

  So, I would fling.

  When I went back out into the bar, Brett announced he was ready to move on to the next spot. Shannon and her friends were bright-eyed and laughing, but steady on their feet. That was good because I sure wasn’t. The couple of drinks had left me more tired than buzzed, and my shoes were killing me. I looked down and snorted. It was too dark in here to even see the awesomeness of my shoes; what was the point?

  I flicked my brother on the back, trying to ignore Dev’s gaze on me as I interrupted their conversation.

  “Hey, I’m going to head back to the hotel. I’m done.”

  Brett slung his arm around my shoulder and tilted his head down toward me. “You okay?”

  It wasn’t a casual question. The faint lines on his forehead were partly put there by me. He worried about me as a big brother should. I just wished he hadn’t needed to worry so much recently.

  I reached up and patted his hand. “I’m fine, just exhausted. You guys go on and have fun,” I said.

  Dev shifted in my peripheral vision, clearing his throat loudly. Brett’s expression softened.

  “Dev, can you go back with her?”

  My mouth opened in automatic protest at being treated like a child, but I snapped it shut when I realized that more time alone with Dev was exactly what I wanted. My heart fluttered.

  “Just see her to her room,” Brett continued, “then you can come back out. I’ll text you where we are.”

  They both looked at me, waiting for me to argue. When it became clear that I wasn’t going to, my brother grew more worried and Dev bit his lower lip.

  “Sure,” Dev said slowly. “No problem, right Audrey?”

  I nodded as I pulled up the Uber app on my phone. Brett whispered something in Dev’s ear, but I couldn’t catch it. Maybe I didn’t want to. My brother clapped his longtime buddy on the back, his relief obvious as he trusted Dev to take care of me.

  Yes, I was also hoping he would take care of me—in a far less brotherly way. My cheeks heated as Dev’s hand rested on my back to shepherd me out of the bar.

  The entire ride back was ominously silent. The air inside the car and the space between us on the back seat felt heavy, swollen with possibilities and unspoken… something.

  On my phone, I searched “how to have a fling” and ended up going down a rabbit hole of advice on casual relationships and hooking up with married men. Ewww. No thanks.

  “What?” Dev said, staring out the window.

  “Huh?”

  “You keep looking at me.”

  “You’re nice to look at.”

  And he was, especially with the lights outside flashing across his face. It was easier when he wasn’t looking back at me, though, as I discovered when he turned in my direction.

  “So are you,” he said simply. “We’re here.”

  I blinked, not realizing that the car had stopped.

  As we wove our way through the crowded casino, the smells and sounds of Las Vegas bombarded my senses. Thanks to my aching feet, I moved slower than I wanted. The room was so… far… away. When I stopped and lifted one foot to adjust my toes, Dev’s arm went around my waist.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I continued on, my heart rate speeding up as he took my hand in his.

  He held it the rest of the way to the elevator bank. Suddenly the lights and smoke and dings faded away in the background, and my world narrowed down to two things—Dev’s hand wrapped around mine, and my poor feet.

  He came first though.

  As soon as we got in the elevator, I leaned back against the wall and reached down to pull my shoes off.

  “Thank god,” I muttered, sighing heavily and hooking my fingers around the straps of the heels. Dev was a lot taller than I remembered without the added height of my shoes. “Men have it so easy. You don’t have to put up with this kind of torture. No hair, no make-up to do.” I shook my head.

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I roll out of bed looking like this.”

  My mouth went dry as I pictured him rolling out of bed. In my imagination, he was wearing a lot less than he was now.

  By the time we reached the door to my room, I realized I was running out of time to proposition him. “Uh, are you going to go back out?” I asked.

  “Nah. I’m pretty beat.” His shirt clung to his chest as he stretched his arms out and clasped his hands behind his back.

  I dropped my shoes to rummage through my purse for the key card. Didn’t I just have it, to show the guard at the elevator bank? Yeesh.

  Dev waited patiently beside me. He even bent down to pick up my shoes for me. The movement of his head near my waist made me pause. Gah.

  Trying to ignore the tingling feeling in my stomach, I kept searching. Blindly I felt a few things, but funnily enough I couldn’t find my card—or my courage.

  Oh wait, there it was. It was in the side pocket, along with a ton of sexual tension.

  “Uh, do you want to come in? We could catch up… or something?”

  “Audrey.” His voice was low, making me look up from the depths of my bag.

  His eyes were like obsidian in the light lining the never-ending corridor. When he stepped closer, my back went up against my door.

  “Forget I asked,” I murmured.

  He ran his thumb over my jaw, and I reflexively tilted my head up to him. He said my name again, his voice even rougher and deeper than before. My toes curled against the carpet. Compulsive kissing time?

  Still buried in my bag, my hand closed around my key. Without thinking about it, I popped up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the beard-roughened space between the corner of his mouth and his jaw.

  “Thanks for the escort.”

  Somehow he moved even closer, because as I went back down on my heels, I found myself flat against the door and his body pressed against mine. It was hot and hard and… oh!

  “Audrey?”

  “Hmmm?” Was this like Beetlejuice? If he said my name three times in a row, would I come?

  I looked up to see him lick his lips. He didn’t need his body to pin me to the door—his gaze did the job well enough.

  “Give me your damn key,” he growled.

  My hand trembled a little as I pulled it out of my purse and handed him the little plastic card.

  He leaned into me further as he slipped it into the lock. I felt the hard length of his arm as he pushed down on the handle then heard a whirring sound. His
other arm went around my waist and held me up as the door swung open behind me.

  Good thing, because my knees were in danger of giving out. The air around us felt charged, that damn birthday balloon rubbing against my hair again.

  His arm never left me as he walked us inside, and I felt the heels of my shoes bump against my butt as they swung from his fingers. He dropped them on the floor as the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed.

  I don’t remember where my purse or my key card went. All I knew was that his left hand splayed out over the swell of my ass, and his right hand cradled my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath until it whooshed out of me. Courage, Audrey.

  “Dev?”

  “Yes?”

  “Um, would you be interested in—?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  And his mouth closed over mine. Hungry. Hard. Healing.

  He kissed me like he’d been waiting his whole life for the opportunity. His fingers moved over me like I was a thousand-dollar chip he found in his pocket. When I moaned, he lifted his head.

  “I really, really hope you weren’t about to ask me if I would be interested in a cup of coffee,” he panted.

  “No, no, no.” I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to me again. “This.” I swept my tongue across his lower lip until he groaned and invited me inside.

  I’d never been kissed like that before—so surely, so possessively. It felt strange and new but familiar at the same time. Maybe it was our history or maybe it was the trust I had in him.

  Maybe it was the way he doubled down on my mouth.

  My lips—hell, my whole body was throbbing when I pulled away to catch my breath.

  “Jesus Christ, Audrey. You’re going to be the death of me.”

  I had to close my eyes, worried that I would go up in flames if I looked at him anymore. Oh, so pretty. Maybe not pretty. So… ruggedly handsome, hot, cinematic black and white perfume ad, stalking down the street looking moody… pretty.

  The bed pressed into the back of my thighs, too high for me to simply sit down on it. He bent me back over it, one hand rising to wrap around my ponytail. When he tugged on it, my head went back and his mouth moved to my neck.