“Thanks, Ben,” Xander says.
As we leave the sleep study, Xander takes my hand and leads me out. We walk in silence until we get to his car, where he spins me around to face him. Then he puts his hands on his knees, crouching down so my whole world is Xander and his curls, and says, “You good?”
Am I good? I’ll be good when we skate right over the feelings and get this banter bandwagon back together. Not let a silly little comment from Ben ruin a good thing.
We fuck real good.
And Xander now sleeps real good.
So I look up at him and let a smartass smirk grow across my face. “All you needed was a good lay for a good night’s sleep,” I say, joking.
His eyes narrow on me for a moment before his lips curl up at the ends. “I’ve had plenty of great lays over the years.”
Ouch.
Why the fuck did that hurt? An image of Scarlett flutters behind my eyelids. She’s on her knees, doing things to Xander that I like doing. Jealousy burns through my body.
Ignore it.
Xander stands to his full height and rubs his hands through his hair, but his curls aren’t playing. They stick up everywhere.
Neither of us speaks for a moment.
Are we fighting?
“Ash,” he says, caving first, the smartass replaced with softness. “I needed you,” he says, serious like the heart attack I feel I’m about to have.
Feelings.
Safety.
Need.
Nope. The words spur me on.
“You needed a warm body,” I say, trying to joke my way out of this.
“Really?” Xander’s eyebrows shoot up, unimpressed with me. “Don’t do that.”
What? I’ve been honest the entire time about my rules.
“Do what?”
“Don’t reduce whatever this is”—he points between us—“to a warm body.”
“Xander, we’re fake dating. You know that, right?” I implore him to agree with me. That the only real thing about what we have is the orgasms. “It’s not real.” I just stare at him.
Then he leans forward like he’s about to pop the car door for me like he always does, but instead, his lips crash into mine. He pushes me hard up against the car door, demanding. My lips part and I willingly let him in. His fingers find my hair and he grabs the back of my neck. I tilt my head back, giving him access to all of me.
Showing him just how much I need him.
He pushes his hips into me. And the combination of the cool metal of his car door and the heat coming off his body has me feeling hot and cold and horny all over.
I moan. And that’s enough for him to pull back.
“Tell me that was fake,” he says, his voice rough like gravel. His fingers gently slide over my swollen lip.
Proof.
