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“Highpraise from mygirlfriend.Iwould think the face that gives you epic and endless orgasms would be a little more than justokay.”

“Yourface doesn’t give me…”Ireply before his meaning hits me.Oh, my god.Hisface?Epic, endless orgasms?Hemeans… he’s talking about going down on me?Mymind just about spontaneously combusts at the thought.Icover my eyes with my hands and peek out at him between my fingers.

WhenJacksonlicks his lips,I’msureI’mimagining it.

“Imaginaryorgasms from myfakeboyfriend,”Iwhisper breathlessly.Becausethat’s exactly what all of this is.Imaginary.Fake.We’rethree weeks into this fake relationship.Andit’s going to be over beforeIknow it.ThenI’llnever seeJacksonagain.I’llhave my two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars and noJackson.That’swhatIagreed to.AndifJacksonis having a little fun at my expense, that’s my own fault.WhydidIgo on like that to his friends about how great he was in bed?

“ShouldIcall youJackslike your family does?That’swhatLilyandGunnarcall you, too.”

“You’renot my friend,Selena.”

“Right.Can’tforget that.Thelast thing we are is friends.”Ilook out into the darkness, away from the house.Ilook anywhere but at him. “IthinkIshould get to bed.Youtold your dad that we’d be back at the hospital bright and early, andIstill have to do the dishes and make a grocery list.”

Jackson’sface is stony. “Sure.Butyou cooked, so you’re not doing the dishes.”

“Idon’t mind, really.I’msure that you have stuff to do.”

“Ihave the dishes to do.Mymom would come back and haunt me ifIlet you do the dishes after cooking in her kitchen.Thatwas her rule.Shecooked, and my dad and us boys did the dishes.”

“That’sa really sweet memory.Okay, you’re in charge of dish duty, then.”

“Selena?”

“Yes?”

“Thanksagain for everything.”

“You’rewelcome,Jackson.”He’swelcome for me being here.He’swelcome for me helping out.Buthe didn’t thank me for lusting after him when we’re supposed to be in an entirelyfakerelationship.

Withan awkward smile,Ipick up my plate and wineglass, and head back into the house.It’sgoing to be a long, long night alone in the same house asJacksonWaters.

chaptertwenty-three

jackson

Ifpicking up her dishes and fleeing the barn wasn’t sign enough to give her some space,Idon’t know what is.Oncewe got back inside, she poked around the kitchen cupboards for a few minutes and then fled upstairs and away from me.Iput her suitcase inJameson’sold room before dinner.It’sthe farthest down the hall from mine.

Afterdoing the dishes and heading upstairs,IknowI’min trouble.BecauseIcan’t stay away from her likeIshould.I’mnot even trying to at this point.

Knock.Knock.Knock.

“Yes?”

“Hey,Ihave something for you.”Icould just open the door.Noneof the doors in this house have locks, except for my parents’ room.Butthat wouldn’t be right.I’mgoing to have to spend the entire night knowing thatSelenais down the hall without a single lock between us.Idon’t let myself think about what would happen ifIjust opened her door and walked inside.

“Youdo?”Selenasounds suspicious.Sheprobably thinks it’s my dick in a box or something.Andshe wouldn’t be entirely wrong.IfIthought there was any way in hell that my dick was a present she’d actually be interested in opening,I’dbe down in the kitchen looking for some scissors to cut the ribbon to tie around my shaft in an enormous bow for her.

“Ido.Comehere.”

Selenaopens the door.Shehas a towel wrapped around her head, and she’s wearing a pale pink polka-dot bathrobe.Thisis the most naturalI’veever seen her.Themost intimate.Herface is scrubbed clean of the black mascara and bright pink lips she always has on.Herreal lips are a soft pink.Herpretty hazel eyes are framed by brown lashes a few shades darker than her hair.I’vehad more makeup slapped on my face in the last fifteen years than most people have in a lifetime.Makeupcan do a hell of a lot these days, soIlike seeing what’s underneath.She’sso fucking pretty.Likethis.Allmade up.Everysingle way.

“Whatis it?” she asks, still suspicious.

“Iremembered my mom had some old stuff in a box in the closet, andIthought you might want something.”Pullingthe rolled up t-shirt from behind my back,Itoss it to her.Shereaches out and catches it, slapping at it between the palms of her hands like a cute little seal.Shemight have been right about not inheriting the athletic genes in her family.

Sheslowly unrolls the fabric, and then she freezes.

“Oh, my god.Stop.Isthis real?”

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