Because wewillbe fucking. There’s no way in hell we’ll be able to pretend to be in love without getting naked again. The chemistry between us is too damned hot.
Self-preservation banished to the far reaches of my mind, I settle into the shadows on Charlotte’s oversized outdoor couch, watching her say goodbye to the last of her staff from the back porch. Only one string of lights still glows in the trees, casting the yard in a mix of deep shadows and warm amber. She stands in a patch of amber now, looking like a movie star.
She’s way too hot for normal life.
With her willowy build, supermodel cheekbones, and silky soft hair that lies in perfect waves, Charlotte should be on the set of her next blockbuster, not giving her crew instructions about tomorrow’s cleanup.
“Ten o’clock is fine,” she says, waving a graceful hand through the air. “Sleep in, enjoy your Sunday. There isn’t that much left to do anyway. You’ll be able to breeze through it in an hour or two. Just don’t forget to drop the flower arrangements by the hospital when you’re done. They’re expecting a donation from us before two tomorrow.”
Even at the tail end of a long night, she’s the calm, collected woman in charge, every inch the successful businesswoman.
Except I’ve seen her lose control.
I’ve felt it, heard it, and once had the scratch marks down my back to prove that Charlotte doesn’t always keep it Gwyneth Paltrow in Great Expectations cool.
And damn, I’d give just about anything to feel her nails dragging across my skin again…
The party officially ended about half an hour ago. Most of the guests cleared out by eleven, and Parker and Makena left fifteen minutes ago, both of them shooting me curious looks that I pretended not to notice.
It’s too late for talking things over with a friend to help anyway.
The moment Charlotte flashed that sexy smile over her shoulder on the way out of her laundry room, my fate was sealed. Yes, pretending to be in a relationship is bizarre, dishonest, and not something I’d normally be on board with. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
I don’t like to lie, but Platodidwarn that people tend to hate those who tell the truth.
Maybe it’s time to give faking it a try…
Too bad there’s nothing false about the way my pulse spikes as the fence gate slams behind the last staff member and Charlotte turns, homing in on where I sit lounging in the shadows.
Looks like I’m not the only one keeping track of where my potential partner in fake love is at all times…
Our eyes collide, the potential energy that simmered between us in her laundry room sparking to life all over again.
She ambles toward the porch steps, her sandals clicking on the paving stones, moving with that sensual grace that reminds me of the way her body flowed against mine when I was buried deep inside her.
By the time she reaches the top step, I’m hard.
She stops a few feet away, propping her hands on her hips as she arches a brow. “Well? What’s the verdict? Are you in or are you out?”
Straight to business.
Very Charlotte.
Or at least, Ithinkit’s very Charlotte.
I don’t actually know her that well, but I will by the time this deal is done. And I’m in. I’m so in. Wish I was “in” at this very moment in fact…
I nod. “I’m in, but I have some thoughts.”
“Thoughts.” She crosses her arms, pushing her cleavage higher, making my cock twitch with an almost painful need. “Care to share?”
“Come here first,” I say, my voice husky.
She hesitates, as if debating whether she wants to play with fire. But less than a beat later, she steps closer. Close enough to see how tight her nipples are beneath her dress…
“I’m listening,” she whispers.
I reach up, wrapping my hand around her wrist and tugging her forward. She resists for maybe half a second before letting me pull her down.
