AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh. Right. Um...” Why the hell was I suddenly so jumpy? “I—I need my phone first.” I pushed to my feet, moving woodenly across the living room toward the kitchen where my purse was.
I felt jittery, my stomach suddenly full of butterflies as I turned back around. Gage was on his feet, watching me closely. He was regarding me like a person might a skittish horse, and as much as I didn’t like it, it didn’t feel too off the mark.
“What?” I asked, breaking the silence in the room that was beginning to feel overwhelming. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just... we aren’t going to be able to sell this if you freak out and go all Tin Man every time I touch you.”
I let out a sound somewhere between an indignant scoff and a snort. “I’m not doing that!”
He gave me a look that said he knew I was full of shit. “Oh no?” He leapt into action then, taking the phone from my hand and hooking his arm around my waist. The moment our chests collided, I felt my entire body lock up tight. His gaze held mine so captive that I didn’t realize he was sneaking pictures with his other hand until I heard the shutter of my phone’s camera.
“What are you—?”
He shoved the phone at me. “Look at these and tell me it doesn’t look fake as hell.”
I glared up at him as I snatched the phone away, but the ire coursing through me dried up as I scrolled through the pictures he’d just snapped. In each one, my chin was tucked into my neck, my back was arched like I was trying to stay as far away from his face as possible, and the only way to describe my expression was... well, painfully constipated. It didn’t look good.
“Oh god. These are terrible.”
He yanked the phone from my hand again. “Yep. Exactly. You need to try and relax.”
I blew out a huff that turned into a bewildered laugh. “And how do you suppose I do that, huh? This isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse, Gage. I’ve never been someone’s fake fiancée before.”
“You need to remember who we are to each other,” he said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Forget about the whole fake fiancée shit. This is just you and me. It’s like any other day when we’re hanging out at my place. Stop focusing on the details.”
What he said made sense. I was too in my own head at the moment. I closed my eyes and pulled in a deep breath. I could do this. We could make this work. Hell, there was a reason our friends were all gunning for us to be together—other than the fact we were the only two single ones left. We meshed well, played off each other as perfectly as couples who’d been in a years-long relationship.
I was still psyching myself up when I felt his hand land on my waist.
“Relax,” he coaxed in a low, gentle voice that sounded like smooth velvet sliding over rough gravel. “It’s just me and you.”
I felt my body melt. My eyes opened to find him smiling down at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. We couldtotallydo this.
The camera started clicking away, then he moved us into another position, holding me so his chest was pressed against my back. He rested his chin on my shoulder and extended his arm holding my phone high and angled it down. He grinned up at the screen while I turned toward him and let out a giggle.
I hadn’t seen the photos yet, but I wasn’t worried.
Because this was just us. And as long as I remembered that, everything would work out fine.
ChapterTwelve
WYNN
I had justgottento the really freaking good part of a dream that featured a very naked, veryhardGage Langdon, when some asshole started beating on my front door, ripping me out of dreamland and into reality—which wasn’t nearly as fun.
I still had no idea what Gage’s dick looked like in real life, but the images my subconscious created were damn good, and at least five times a day I caught myself wondering if the real thing would live up to my imagination. Not that I’d ever find out. Even though Gage and I had worked it all out the day before, the truth was, this whole engagement thing was fake. There was no reason for me to see my fake fiancé naked. No matter how badly the slutty little part of my brain might have wanted to.
I buried my head under my pillow, hoping the jackass who was knocking on my doorway too freaking earlyon a Sunday morning would go the hell away so I could get back to my dream.
I wasn’t that lucky.
I let out a growl when the doorbell started going off. Throwing the covers back, I shot out of bed and stomped toward the front door. “So help me,” I started loudly, threatening the person on the other side. “If you’re banging on my front door so you can ask me about my relationship with Jesus, you’re the one who’s going to need divine intervention!”
I whipped the door open to a laughing Gage. Only, the moment his eyes landed on me, the laughter ended abruptly, followed by a loud gulp that made his throat bob. His face changed in that way it did the day before when I’d joked about him being mine. Same flared nostrils, same dilated pupils. There was an undercurrent of savagery to him just then, something almost dangerous. But it didn’t scare me.
“Jesus Christ, Bits. Is that what you sleep in?”
I’d been in such a rush to rip whoever was at my door a new asshole that I’d forgotten to grab a robe to cover up like I normally would, not that I was showing all that much. My pajamas were shorts and a camisole made of pale pink jersey with dove gray lace straps, neckline, and the hem of the shorts. They were cute as hell and made me feel all feminine and girly.
