“What?” I whisper sweetly. “Thought fake girlfriends were supposed to touch.”
“Stop testing me.”
His fingers dig into my waist.
“Why? Can’t handle it?”
We pause as flashes explode again and paparazzi shout his name. Dom lifts my hand off his torso but, instead of dropping it, he laces his fingers with mine.
My heart does a triple axel. He leans down and gently catches my chin between his thumb and finger, tilting my face up for one perfect photo.
But the real moment happens just after the shutter clicks.
His mouth is near my ear and his tone is deceptively sweet.
“Quit pawing at me,” he murmurs. “You look desperate.”
The words sting like hell, but his touch melts me just as much. My brain is conflicted, not knowing what to react to—his soft touch or his harsh words.
I smile like nothing’s wrong.
“You’re an asshole,” I whisper back.
He slides a strand of hair behind my ear, soft and tender, knuckles brushing my cheek longer than necessary.
“Behave,” he murmurs.
I smile for the cameras.
I absolutely won’t.
An hour into the event, after far too much champagne and way too much Dom proximity, I slip away from the team circle and head to the bar for a refill.
I’m not drunk. Just… pleasantly warm. Dangerously inclined to say whatever comes to mind if Dominic keeps pushing me.
Which is a terrible combination around strangers, but here I am.
The bar is crowded, but I spot a group of women in glitter dresses and glossy hair clustered around the counter. As I step beside them, one turns her head slowly, eyes flicking over me in a slow, assessing way.
“Aren’t you…” she murmurs. “Dominic Moreal’s new girlfriend?”
The others whip their heads toward me so fast I hear the collective snap of hair extensions.
“Oh, right!” one squeaks.
Their smiles are sugary, but their eyes are venomous. Not mean outright, not stupid enough to show teeth, but the hostility radiates like a heat lamp.
“I am.” I smile sweetly.
The blonde nearest me leans in.
“Well… lucky you.” Her tone says the opposite. “We’ve, um… heard stories.”
“Stories?” I echo innocently.
Another giggles, lowering her voice. “About the Captain, babe.”
“Oh yeah,” a brunette says. “He liked to… keep busy. Let’s call it that.”
