Page 75 of Pretender

While stepping into the light blue pyjama trousers and matching long-sleeve shirt made of cotton and black magic, I remind myself: this is for my company, we’re just friends. I owe it to myself to be careful, to not repeat my mistakes.

I take the tray of food he brought me and walk into the living room. I’ve never been in a hotel room this big before. The view of Florence stretches out below us. Red roofs, blue sky, and a winding river cutting through the city behind a large brown cathedral dome. Holy fuck, what a place. I need to come back here and see all this properly one day.

“Oh shit, I should’ve taken that,” Aiden says, getting up to help me with the tray and I collapse into the leather couch. It’s squashier than it looked and I sink into it, exhausted by the walk from the bedroom.

“Thank you for the wonderful clothes,” I say, brushing a hand over my thighs. “And everything.” Finally forcing myself to meet his eyes, I’m fully aware my ears are on fire again.

“Goes without saying, Linnea.” His arm is around the back of the couch. He’s in a t-shirt and his biceps is right there. It looks soft and hard at the same time and I resist the sudden urge to lean my cheek against it.

“No, it doesn’t,” I whisper. He’s clearly never met someone like my parents. Not that I was mistreated. When I was sick I had a bed and TV, but not the softness and care I ached for. I was just a nuisance when I was ill. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice is low, his full lips relaxed in a small smile. “Do you want to snuggle up?” he asks, gesturing to the available space next to him. “As friends.” A chuckle escapes him. “I just know I loved a hug from Mum when I was sick, but maybe that’s just me.” His deep voice rumbles through the couch, and I imagine what it would be like if my ear was pressed to his chest instead.

“No, I’d love to,” I whisper and allow him to tuck me closer and wrap his arm around me as I nestle into the side of his chest with a long sigh.

We start a movie but I fall asleep again, and somewhere in my dream I’m certain he kisses my head and I kind of love it. But it’s just a dream and I need to keep it that way for my own good.

CHAPTER TWENTY

needy

LINNEA

The sun is still up, lighting up my bedroom. I stare at the white ceiling from my starfish position on the bed. It’s not late at all, but it’s much brighter than it should be. It’s full summer and August is around the corner. And with August comes the Buckingham Palace garden picnic. And Amara’s wedding—our fake dating finale. In Devon, to boot. Same bedroom, I bet, considering we’re a healthy, adult couple as far as everyone else is concerned.

After three days and two nights in close proximity with Aiden, I’m about to fucking melt with need and I won’t survive that night if I don’t, ahem, help myself first.

Aiden’s caring side, his gentle touch, the way he kissed his way up my inner thigh (okay, that was a dream but it felt real)—it opened something in me. I can’t remember being this horny. So damned needy. I didn’t even know was possible.

But it’s more than that.

Florence was a rollercoaster of emotions. I’ve cracked a door open into Aiden’s mind—just enough to learn there’s something big there which he struggles to put into words. And there’s considerably more to him than the charming, arrogant man I’d previously pegged him as. And now, I want to learn everything about him, which I shouldn’t want to.

This train of thought is particularly frightening. I can’t think about him like that… No, I’d rather not explore it, so I force myself to instead focus on the intense throbbing in my downstairs region.

The first thing I did today after coming home from Florence was to have a long shower, then a long bath, hoping to clear my mind of all the images of Aiden and his muscular arms. Arms that hold me tight. Or his broad chest that houses a big heart.

The bath didn’t help.

I’m still horny, still with a busy mind, but now I’m also warm and my skin so tingly and sensitive, even just the roughness of the towel lights my fire again. Sprawled on the bed, I let the towel slip off my breasts, imagining he’s at the foot of the bed like in my dream. I glide my hand down my stomach, between my legs, trailing the sides of my wet entrance, working myself up even more.

I let myself fantasise about Aiden. His wide smile, and the little dimple that shows up when he tries to force it down. The way he bites his lip. But mostly I focus on his large, veiny, sexy hands, and how they glide up my leg, in between my thighs and all the way up. He groans in my ear in that manly way I imagine he does when he feels how ready I am for him. In my imagination he’s above me, leaning onto his arms, his muscles bulging from his weight as he kisses his way down my body. To my achingly needy pussy.

Yes, I like that.

Maybe Aiden talks like that. Maybe he’ll say ‘show me how wet you are for me’, spreading my legs wide.

He’ll tell me he loves how I look. He can’t wait to taste me.

Things I’ve never heard, but always fantasised about. Being worshipped. Needed. Obsessed about. I want to watch him get so hard he can’t control himself.

I glide two fingers through my wet folds and up to my clit, pretending it’s Aiden’s delicious mouth. His full lips. His tongue. I bet it’s a strong tongue.

Mmm.

He’s so good at that. He makes me feel good.

A bit too good…