I can feel myself getting wetter as I imagine his mouth wandering all over my body. If this is how he can make me melt from a kiss, there’s no way I stand a chance. With a harsh grip, he pulls me into him, and I swear I can feel his need for me growing against my stomach. But just as quickly as it starts, it ends.
A loud whistle splits through the air, and I break away from Patrick, like we’re teenagers who just got caught by a parent. Looking in the direction of the noise, we see Wes giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say he looks like a proud dad. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yells loudly, “When you guys are done making out, we’re ready to start the game!”
My cheeks once again turn a shade of bright red, and I see Patrick’s following suit. I stare straight at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as we make our way back to the group. I’m truly hoping that Patrick doesn’t think too much into it and just assumes that kiss was just a perk of having a fake girlfriend who is fully committed to the lie.
But, that kiss was for me, and me alone. The heat still churns through my body, and I do my best not to linger too much on the feelings it brought up.
Even though it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone, other than myself, I don’t want to use Patrick. It’s ridiculous to think he wants me like that, but I can’t get him out ofmy head. And, if the opportunity arises, I don’t know if I would have the willpower to stop myself.
By the time we get back to the group, it’s obvious that everyone has been waiting for us to start, which just adds an added layer of embarrassment to the whole thing. Their gazes are more curious than judgmental, but I can’t stop the burning feeling in my cheeks. Wes gives Patrick a pat on the back and tries to fist bump him when we approach, but Patrick ignores the gesture.
The team on the other side of the net is full of people I don’t recognize, and Patrick tells me that they are just a random assortment of coworkers from other departments. While the game has no stakes, I still find myself nervous that I am going to disappoint everyone.
He places his hands on my shoulder and lowers himself to meet my gaze. “Ellie, you are going to be fine. If anyone gives you shit, they’ll have to deal with me.”
His words reassure me until Wes butts in. “I don’t think that Patrick has ever fought anyone before, so if anyone gives you shit,Iwill deal with them.”
Wes sends a wink and a smile my way as we all get into position. When I glance over at Patrick, he is clenching his jaw and giving Wes a death glare. It’s cute how he plays the defensive boyfriend so well.
Every time we have to rotate, Patrick guides me to my next position. Everyone else is fairly decent, so I don’t have too much responsibility for hitting the ball. I did miss a few chances to save the ball, but at one point, I managed to set the ball to Natalie.She spiked it over, winning the point for our team, so that high should last me the rest of the day.
Halfway through the game, we take a water break, and while everyone else is dripping in sweat, I somehow remain relatively poised—there’s a first time for everything. The water is cool going down my throat; although, I nearly do a spit take when Patrick and the other guys start taking their shirts off.
When Patrick tosses his to the side, I do my best not to look, but my eyes are glued to his arms. Then they move to his chest and stomach, and I can’t stop myself from gawking at him. His strong, thick body reveals hidden muscles as he twists to stretch.
Pulling me from my deeply inappropriate thoughts, I hear Patrick’s flirty tone. “You like what you see?”
My composure flies straight out the window, so without a response, I turn around and talk to Wes in order to distract myself.
I’m so grateful when Patrick suggested leaving after the volleyball game. It surprised me how much fun I was having with his coworkers, but I cannot let myself get behind on classwork. There are only two more weeks until the summer semester is over, and I can’t get sloppy now. With ninety pages of reading and a discussion board due before Sunday night, now is the best time to do it.
Patrick promised I’d be home by midday on Sunday, but I don’t want to risk it. As much as I love my grad schoolprofessors, there are very few excuses they will accept for late work, and I can assure you that going to my ‘fake boyfriend's company weekend vacation thing’ is not one of them.
Patrick asked me if I needed the room to myself, and despite telling him that he could stay, he ended up taking advantage of the optional spa sessions to get a massage. Apparently, Wes was going to get one too, so he joined along so Wes wouldn’t be lonely. If I wasn’t mistaken, I would think that Wes and Patrick were more of a couple than we were.
Maybe I need to step up my fake girlfriend game tonight. I can’t have Wes outshining me.
Luckily, the reading was fast, and I already had a good idea for the discussion board. So, I was able to get it done fairly quickly.
While it typically doesn’t take me that long to get ready, I desperately need a shower, so when Patrick makes his way back in the room and plops himself down on the bed, looking relaxed and serene, I take the opportunity to claim the bathroom.
Wrapping a towel around my wet hair, I slip on the hotel-provided robe and tie the belt around my waist. I’m halfway considering stealing the robe and taking it home with me, but I don’t want Patrick being charged for my momentary klepto urges.
Patrick is exactly where I left him when I went into the bathroom—shirtless on the bed and surrounded by pillows. He lets out a small snore, and I can’t help but giggle at how cutehe is. Last night, I had already fallen asleep before he got into bed—and we both woke up quickly this morning—so I haven’t been able to witness sleepy Patrick until now.
His hair is mussed, and there is the tiniest bit of drool on the side of his mouth. His chest is peacefully moving up and down in cadence with his breaths.
Leaning down next to him, I give him a light shake. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
He scrunches his face like he doesn’t want to get up, and I find it oddly adorable.
His lack of response makes me shake a little harder. “Come on, Patrick. You’re not going to have enough time to get ready.”
After he groans at my comment, his voice comes out low and sexy, and I freeze. “Ughhhh, stop bothering me. I just want to sleeeeeep.”
When I find my voice again, I remind him that we have to get ready for dinner, but he just squints his eyes open, mumbles something, and closes them again.
“What did you say?”
