“What we’re doing,” he said, and sipped his bourbon, “is being seen.” Then his gaze left me as he looked out over the dance floor.
Right.
Being seen.
When Brody nudged Jesse’s shoulder and started talking in his ear, I breathed a small sigh of relief as he turned away. The guy was intense. The way he touched me, the way helookedat me, turned me into a flustered mess.
I pressed my cocktail glass to my chest and rolled it between my breasts, trying to calm the fuck down, but my heartbeat practically rattled the ice in the glass. The guy was making my head spin. But I was prepared for this. Iknewit was all for show. I couldn’t let it floor me every time he touched me.
No matter how good it felt.
No matter how much I really wanted him tokeeptouching me.
Because every time he touched me, it was in public, and it was for a reason. And the reason wasn’t to make me feel good. It wasn’t even because he wanted to touch me.
It was to beseentouching me.
The lines ofNew Girlrepeated in my head. He’d made a very public declaration of love to me tonight with that song, and now here we were, officially together, in public. Our relationship was out there. Ourlie. And everything we did from this night on was meant to back it up. I was here for one reason: to help him sell that lie, to make it look real. I was being paid a hell of a lot of money to make it look real.
Jesse was playing his part, and he was playing it well.
What else saidI own this piece of asslike sticking his hand up my dress in the middle of a crowded club, or firing his staff because they hit on me? Or making me pant like a bitch in heat every time he kissed me?
He was staking his claim over me, publicly, and I needed to get used to it, fast. This was only the beginning. I’d signed on forsix weeksof this.
And it meant absolutely nothing.
I took a swig of my drink, the voice of reason in the back of my head reminding me to slow the fuck down.
Jesse was still talking to Brody. He squeezed my thigh a little when I shifted, but he didn’t let go. In fact, his grip had migrated subtly northward, which was messing with my brain. I had no idea if he was jacking me up on purpose. Did he have any idea how much he was turning me on? Or did he just think I was a really great actor, like he was?
Like I’d been in the video?
Except I wasn’t really acting in the video. I was just being hot for Jesse Mayes, for real. I’d let things go as far as he took them, more or less. And now the question I’d been asking myself since I’d agreed to come on tour with him circled in my brain. I felt it beating in the rhythm of his pulse, in his hand on my thigh.
How far would I let this go? How far would I go for two hundred grand?
How far would I go for Jesse Mayes?
This far, I told myself, glancing at his hold on my thigh, the edge of his sexy wrist tattoo disappearing beneath my dress.This far and no fucking farther.
I took a peek at my phone, looking for some respite, and found a text from Devi. It was about the hundredth time she’d checked on me today. So far I’d answered each text by sending her a pic of whatever was going on around me, but I decided not to send her a pic of Jesse’s hand on my thigh. Instead, I panic-texted her back.What the fuck was I thinking?
Seconds later, her response came in.OMG are you okay??
I’m sitting in a club with Jesse, I texted her.His hand is up my dress.
Devi’s response was again immediate.I repeat, are you okay??
Ask me tomorrow.
Get out your vibrator and calm the F down. You can’t sleep with him on day 1.
Sage advice from a woman who’d never owned a vibrator because “Why would I get it on with a hunk of plastic when I can get it on with a hunk?”
Didn’t bring it.I sent that text and stashed my phone away; Jesse had turned back to me.
“Hi,” I said.
