“After you,” I say with a smile. “I prefer the view from back here.” My hand drops lower, and I squeeze his arsecheek. Holy hell, that thing’s tight.
He raises an eyebrow at me, muffling a laugh with his fist. “Did you just squeeze my arse?” he whispers.
“Lydia’s looking. I panicked,” I say through my teeth.
“Okay.” He smiles. “I’ll have to remember that excuse for later.” He winks, then steps around me, continuing the course. I blow out a heavy breath.
It’s a struggle not to openly stare at Westley as he moves past me and steps out on the bridge, but then I remember, we’re meant to look like we’re dating. In love.
He’s wearing a dark green muscle tank that exposes his perfectly sculpted arms and dips lower on his side, showing off his obliques, including the tattoo across his ribs. Why is that area so hot? A shiver rolls up my spine as I imagine doing scandalous things to that body.
Resigning to the fact that I need serious help, I pull my phone from the side pocket of my leggings, thankful there’s still reception out here.
ME:
Do you think in real relationships people fantasise about their partner all the time… like, sexually.
Pres responds immediately.
PRESLEY:
Ummm, yes. In fact, I think it would be more concerning if you didn’t.
ME:
Cool. So, there’s nothing wrong with me then.
PRESLEY:
If we’re talking about the man you’re FAKE dating, then the jury’s still out on that one.
ME:
*middle-finger-emoji*
PRESLEY:
Is there a reason why we’re not taking a chance on lumbersnack daddy?
ME:
I should never have sent you that picture.
A few days ago, Westley was working in his backyard. I have absolutely no clue what he was building, I just know it involved him shirtless, a saw in his hand, running back and forth, making all the muscles and veins in his arms pop, and halfway through, he flipped his hat from front-facing to backwards. I don’t even remember pulling up my chair on the balcony to sit down and watch, but I do remember falling off it when he caught me staring… We’re not talking about it.
PRESLEY:
The fuck you shouldn’t have! It was critical information for me to have in order to assist you in your freak outs. The man is fine. Sounds like a total sweetheart. Freak out granted.
ME:
You’re not helping.
PRESLEY:
Pushing is helping.
ME:
