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I paused in front of room three, with my hand on the doorknob. “Just shout if you need me,” Seth said softly. “The doors don’t lock.”
Nodding, I bolstered myself, took a deep breath, and pushed through the door with what I hoped was a sultry smile on my face… which dropped straight off when I saw who was lounging on the wide padded bench—Max Shepherd.
“Oh, this is just perfect,” I spat out, which only seemed to make him smile wider. “What, you haven’t embarrassed me enough, you had to come back for seconds? Where’s your paparazzi tonight?” I didn’t bother waiting for an answer, just turned to walk straight back out.
“Wait! Hear me out,” he called, sounding halfway panicked, and for some reason, I actually stopped. “I have a proposition for you.”
I glanced back over my shoulder at him. “I’m listening.”
“Could you…” He motioned to the door, and I closed it, turning around to face him. Max pulled out his wallet and started taking out bills, one at a time. “My career means a lot to me. It took me a long time to get where I am, and a lot of hard work. But after playing the leading role in a number of clean romances, I’m afraid I’ve been typecast.” He held out a twenty to me, waiting for me to come closer.
Narrowing my eyes, I stepped forward and plucked the bill from his fingers. “Continue.”
He leaned back, satisfied I wasn’t about to leave just yet. I watched as he fished a fifty-dollar bill from the stack. “Hollywood wants me to be their golden boy, offscreen as much as on.” His playful smirk dipped a little. “I am sorry for claiming you were my fiancé. I panicked, because if a rumor came out that I was caught with a prostitute, my career would be over.”
“But I’m not—” I began, but he cut me off.
“I know, but it doesn’t matter. The damage would be done.” He held out the fifty, closer to his body this time, forcing me to move into his space in order to retrieve it.
I stood between his parted legs, gazing down at his lithe body, so sensual in everything he did. If I hadn’t already seen him act in those wholesome roles, I would’ve had a hard time believing he was ever cast as anything but a playboy. He exuded sex appeal.
This time when I plucked the bill from his fingers, I didn’t retreat. If he was going to pay me to talk, I might as well earn it by dancing a little. I swayed my hips slowly side to side, to the rhythm of the music I could hear in the background.
“So… what’s your proposition?” I asked against my better judgment.
He cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on my crotch, pupils blown wide, his hands gripping his thighs. “Oh, uh… I want to offer you a job. Pretend to be my fiancé, help me keep up appearances that I am still the boy next door, looking to settle down.”
“I have a job, Max,” I said. I turned away from him and bent my knees, rotating my hips to brush up against his inner thighs, and he made a choking sound. Maybe this dancing thing wasn’t so bad. I felt sexy and seductive, the way Max was weakening before my eyes.
“I’ll pay you more,” he gritted out. “Anything, just name your price.” He pulled another bill from his hand, this time a hundred. “The reporter from last night agreed to hold off on posting that article if I gave him an exclusive interview to meet my fiancé.”
I took the bill with one hand, and with the other, I undid the buttons on my vest and slid it off over my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor at his feet. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and groaned. “You’re killing me, Arlo. Please say yes, before I come in my pants.”
I put one knee up on the bench beside him, then brought the other across his lap so I could straddle him. I could feel his erection as I ground down on him, and slick dampened the back of my pants. “Nobody is going to believe it. I’m not a good boy, Max,” I purred in his ear, both a promise and a threat.
“You’re perfect,” he growled, his lips tickling the bare skin of my chest.
My body was screaming at me to finish what we started last night. I could so easily reach between us and pull down his zipper. A little maneuvering and I could impale myself on his dick, just like that… but a small voice whispered that he wasn’t looking for a quick fuck. He was looking for a fake fiancé.
Doubt slithered through me, cold and needling, but in the end, it was simple. I needed cash, and I needed it fast.
“Double my wage,” I said firmly, half expecting him to say no.
Without hesitation, he said, “Done.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, his pants looking painfully tight.
How could I possibly say no? With great difficulty, I climbed off Max’s lap and backed away.
He reached for me, before remembering the rules and reeling his hands back. “Where are you going? Come back here.”
“Ah-ah. If we’re going to work together, we need to set some rules, boundaries.”
Max winced. “I don’t like the sounds of that.”
“Trust me. It’ll be in both our best interests.” The words felt like a big, fat lie.
6
Max
