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I leaned back, my mind warring with itself, and watched her do her thing.
21
Selena
Sitting around and talking to old guys about how great America was, and how great the military was in particular, was not my idea of a good time.
But apparently, I was good at it. I’d had those old guys hanging on every word. Probably because they were too busy staring at my breasts, but whatever. That was fine with me. I wanted to try to earn my keep with Nash, and that was finally something I was better at than him.
Although he had disappeared at one point. I’d watched him excuse himself and then head out a back door that led out into the alley.
I wanted to pursue that thought further, but I was just too tired. I picked at my room service dinner and stared at the television. Nash was in the shower, or maybe he was just lying down; I wasn’t sure. It was nearly one in the morning and I wanted to sleep.
Being someone’s fake wife was much more tiring than I would have guessed. I had assumed it would be a lot of smiling, a lot of pretend flirting, a lot of kissing. Instead, I was like a politician, sitting in front of cameras and lying and shaking hands.
Not to mention ignoring the pretty sluts that threw themselves at Nash. I sighed, shaking my head. I was being unfair and I knew it. He hadn’t ask for any of that to happen. In fact, he was doing his best to discourage it without seeming like he was an asshole.
I was being stupidly jealous, and although I knew it, I couldn’t help it. I was just too tired to keep my mind trained on anything else.
At least the hotel room was nice. It was big, with a large central room just like the others. It looked like we’d be staying in suites for the time being, and I was not looking forward to the day when Nash’s publisher got cheap and stuck us in a regular room.
I heard the door to the bedroom open, and that yanked me out of my thoughts. I looked back and stared at Nash.
He was dripping wet and wearing only a towel.
“Hey,” he said. “Got any food left?”
“Uh, put some clothes on.”
“What?” He walked over and began to pick at what was left of my meal. “I have a towel on.”
“Barely,” I said, staring at him. The towel was practically slipping off, and if it went any lower, I was pretty sure I’d get a good glimpse of his thick cock.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he said, grinning.
“Just because I’ve seen it doesn’t mean I want to look at it now.”
“Sure it does. I see the look in your eyes.”
“There’s no look,” I said.
Although there was definitely a look. I couldn’t help but stare at him.
“Whatever you say,” he grunted. “I’m ordering a drink. Want anything?”
“No.”
He walked over to the phone and asked for a bottle of whisky and two glasses. He hung it up and leaned against the wall, looking at me.
“You did a really good job earlier,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“I hate those fucking dinners. I’m not a big fan of kissing ass.”
“Isn’t that what you do in the military?”
He laughed. “Some of those career guys, maybe. But I’m a SEAL. We do our missions and we do them well, and that’s good enough for most people.”
“So why aren’t you out there anymore?”
He shrugged. “Told you. I got shot, almost died. They pulled me off active duty.”
“Do you miss it?”
He was quiet for a second. “Yeah, I really do.” He looked so somber, so serious, that I was actually surprised. Maybe he was opening up to me for once.
But that glimpse past his cocky exterior quickly disappeared as his arrogant smile returned. “I’m finding ways to cope, though.” He moved toward me.
“Nash,” I warned.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Not at all. We just, we can’t.”
He crossed his arms. The towel was inches away from dropping off. “We can’t what?”
“You know what,” I said. “Can you grab your towel please?”
He laughed, adjusting it slightly. That barely helped. “I don’t know what you thought, but I was going for the remote.”
“Oh,” I said, and I wasn’t sure why I felt disappointed.
“But if you want me to remove this towel and let you suck my cock, I’d be happy to.”
“No, thanks,” I said, handing him the remote.
He laughed and flicked through the channels. I leaned back and yawned, half asleep. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. He answered it and returned with his whisky, sipping from his glass.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I can get myself to bed,” I said, standing.
“You sure you don’t want a hand? I’ve been thinking about you all fucking night.”
I smiled. “I’m sure.”
“You looked incredible in that dress. God, I’m fucking hard just talking about it.”
