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It didn’t feel right.
But if it helped her father recover?
And if it gave her mother something else to think about other than constantly ripping at Lyric.
How bad would it be to go along with it … just for a few more weeks, and then she’d come clean. Were all sins created equal? Was lying the same as murder? Did she really care?
The shower turned off, and the plastic curtain rustled on its ball bearings. She heard swishing sounds, as if a towel was pulled from the bar next to the shower. She imagined that he was using it to dry off.
In high school, how many times had she sat on her bed, listening to him taking a shower and imagining what it would be like to help him dry off? Now she could walk right on in there and offer a helping hand.
And she was fake engaged to him.
She sure as hell hadn’t seen that one coming. Lyric smiled to herself. She was willing to bet that Mistress Kailana hadn’t seen it coming either. She was welcome to Rob the Knob. Poor Rob—the grass skirt was always greener on the other side.
Heath walked into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. If she yanked it off of him, they could get back to defiling her childhood bedroom, but they were out of condoms and needed to go to the hospital.
She patted the seat next to her. “We need to talk.”
“Oh crap, we’re about to have ‘the talk.’” He sat next to her. “This is where you fake break up with me … right?” He grinned. “Let me guess, it’s you and not me. You need your space, or you can’t be tied down, or my personal favorite—because I’ve used it about a hundred times—you’re not good enough for me. I deserve someone who goes out of their way to make me happy.”
So he’d broken lots of hearts—not surprising. Well, this time he wasn’t breaking hers.
“Wow, you have lots of break-up lines.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to keep being fake engaged.”
He looked like he was weighing the pros and cons. “Okay, but when we get fake married, I’m not signing a prenup. I think it’s bad luck.”
He undid his towel and let it fall open. “Oops, look what happened.”
“We’re out of condoms …” Her eyes—those traitors—drank him in. “I need to get to the hospital.”
He kissed her neck and worked his way down her collarbone.
“I guess we don’t need to be at the hospital just yet.” She melted into him. “As long as we’re fake engaged, we might as well have lots of real sex.”
God knew, after her father was recovered and she and Heath returned to their normal lives, her options for sex—good, bad, or otherwise—would dry up.
“What we had this morning went way beyond sex.” He licked at her nipple. “We definitely made love.”
She could all but hear the bow-chicka-bow-bow music in the background. That was a terrible line. Laughter bubbled up. Did it actually work … on anyone?
He kissed his way to her other nipple.
“What so funny?” He grinned up at her.
“Making love? Come on? That’s funny.” Who knew coming home would be this much fun? “Sex is sex. Who makes love? That’s for romance novels, cheesy porn, and 1980s rock ballads. I’m already naked. Pulling out the ‘making love’ card seems like gratuitous use of a terrible line.”
Every muscle in his body went rigid, and not in a good way. He sat up, pulling his towel back around him. He stood and glared down at her.
“So, it’s just sex.” The words were ground out rather than spoken.
“Okay.” She reviewed the last few sentences in her head and couldn’t figure out why he was mad.
“Just some mutual itch scratching … just some casual fucking … is that it?” He looked right through her.
Was that rhetorical? She wasn’t the best at reading people, so she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer.
“Fine.” He tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
