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I peeked yet again at Arlo, walking by my side, close enough to inhale his fragrant aroma. He looked… different. Respectable, in slacks and a blue button-down that made his gray eyes shine like steel. It wasn’t a bad thing that he’d dressed up, considering we were about to embark on a very public stroll through the park on our way to meet with Patrick Carson, ace reporter for Chatter Magazine, for our agreed-upon interview. If Arlo had been wearing his standard work uniform, it might not have sent the right message, that he was my… fiancé.
I swallowed thickly. Gods, what was I doing? Who did I think I was fooling? Certainly not me! Every inch of my body knew what Arlo was to me, my dick at half-mast ever since I picked him up from his apartment. Yep, there was no denying that I wanted him in my bed. My brain had that logic locked down, but my heart… that was where things started to get murky. The attraction I felt toward Arlo wasn’t simply sexual. He set off an unfamiliar yearning I didn’t quite know how to handle.
“You look worried,” he said casually, a smirk playing on his lips as he bumped me with his shoulder.
“I do not,” I replied just as smoothly, without missing a beat. “I happen to be a great actor, and there’s no way you can tell what I’m thinking from the outside, because this,” I said, gesturing to my face, “is my ‘I’m wildly in love with my fiancé and am definitely not stressed’ face.”
“Oh, is that what that is? I thought it was your ‘I told a massive lie that has led to me hiring a fake fiancé, and now I’m going to go public with said lie and dig myself an even bigger, more expensive hole’ face.”
I burst out laughing. “Wow, if I could convey all that with my expression, I’d be a shoo-in for an Academy Award. That’s got some layers to it.”
He snorted, trying to hold in his laugh, but then he sobered. “Seriously, actor or not, this would make anyone stressed the hell out. It’s not too late, we can come up with a different story for why we were caught like that in the parking lot. Why do you even need to pretend? You didn’t do anything wrong, and your fans love you. How do you know they won’t still support you? Actors have made comebacks after controversy before.”
I gave him a grim smile. “True, but more often they’re wiped off the map, never to be cast again.”
He seemed to mull that over, nodding as the park’s gates loomed large ahead of us. He paused and took my elbow, turning me to face him. “Okay, so if we’re really doing this, we need to make it count. On a scale of one to ten, how much public affection are we aiming for—where one is handholding and ten in an orgy in front of city hall?”
His teasing made me feel lighter than I had in ages. I’d been hiding my true self from the public for so long that it was a relief to share myself with someone and feel no judgment. I inched a little closer and smoothed down the wrinkles in his shirt, before coasting my palms up and cradling his face. “Let’s hold off on the orgy for now, but I think my reputation can withstand a chaste kiss or two. I mean, we need to make it believable, right? And it would only be natural for two men in love to kiss.”
“Right… but no tongue. Don’t forget rule number one.”
“How could I forget,” I grumbled.
The rules he’d outlined when we came to our agreement went as followed:
Kissing is allowed when in public, but no tongue.
Hands must be kept above the waist at all times.
Sex is out of the question.
No L-word.
It felt like he was teasing me when he trailed his tongue along his lower lip, his eyes heating. I groaned, unable to resist brushing my lips against his, doing everything I could not to delve my tongue straight in, chasing after his. My semi tightened a little further. “You know, city hall is only a few blocks from here. I hear noon is a wonderful time of day for an orgy.”
Just as I was about to throw the rules straight in the trash and deepen the kiss beyond appropriate levels, he stepped back, a rush of too-cold air gusting between us. “Tsk, tsk, this is a business relationship now. You’re my boss, and that means no hanky panky, or things might get… complicated. Or more than it already is, anyway.” His breathing was a little labored, so at least I knew he wasn’t unaffected. He was no actor, and I knew by the way his cheeks reddened and his eyes dipped down to my crotch that dirty fantasies were dancing through his mind.
He seemed to shake himself. “Come on,” he said, capturing my fingers in his. “It’s showtime.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked slyly.
“No?” He arched a brow, wondering what I was getting at.
