AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No.”
He sounds so stunned that I laugh. “We’re supposed to be passionately in lust, fucking our way across the country on your ridiculous road trip. You think separate rooms are going to work?”
He frowns. “The paparazzi aren’t going to follow us.”
I shrug. “Probably not, but how is it going to sound if some hotel clerk spills that we’re in separate rooms? And don’t give me some ‘waiting for marriage’ bullshit—you know what those pictures looked like.”
“They don’t prove—”
“That we didn’t fuck?” I stop, hands on my hips.
Something dark and unexpected flashes in his eyes. His hands curl into fists in his pockets and he’s so tense he’s in danger of shattering.
Awareness cuts through my hangover, washing over me, pulling something tight deep in my core. Maybe Gabriel Sinclair isn’t boring after all. Maybe he’s just very good at pretending. Maybe someone needs to cut that bind and release whatever he’s trying to keep inside.
I might consider doing it for him. If he begged.
I pull the silk camisole over my head, tossing it onto the bed, and it finally happens. His gaze drops to my tits. His brain is still working, telling his body to turn away, but his eyes are reluctant on the follow-through and linger until his head finally snaps around.
It’s the smallest victory, but I’ll take it.
“We’re going to have to kiss in public,” I inform him, finding a bra and slipping it on.
“I realize that.” He says it so tightly I suspect he’s lying. The Great Gabriel Sinclair. Lying.
It turns me on.
The idea of dragging this man down to my level, to be clear. Not the man himself.
“You’re going to have to touch me,” I say, adjusting my tits in my bra. “Intimately.”
“We can keep it family-friendly.” His voice is tight. A little uncertain. He hasn’t given this fake relationship much thought.
Lucky for him, I had all last night, when I wasn’t crying over Nic, to imagine all the ways I could mess with Gabriel Sinclair’s handsome little head.
“That’s not what Warwick would do,” I say. It brings a pang of sadness at the thought of all the things Nic would do, and not with me.
“I’m not Warwick.” He looks over at me again, but not until I’ve slipped on my sundress. He’s regained that tiny bit of control. “We should discuss what we’re willing to do for the cameras.”
“You can finger me at a truck stop. We can fuck at a dive bar. We can release a sex tape for all I care.” I don’t mean any of it, but I want to push him back into his caveman version. I saw a flash of it, and it was in his eyes in that photo.
Anger is what I get instead. “A few people are waiting outside. I need to know what you’re okay with.”
I’m not okay with anything. I stomp off to the bathroom to brush my teeth and pack my toiletries.
“Ashley,” he calls. “If you want to call it off, we can say it was a one-night stand and drop the charade.”
Tempting, but I’m not going to take the blame—or incur the penalty fee my agent foolishly insisted upon—by backing out first.
I decide to take a shower.
His exasperated complaint makes it worth it.
When I get out, there’s a message on my phone.
WHAT THE HELL HOW ARE YOU DATING GABRIEL SINCLAIR? DETAILS NOW, BITCH.
Wendy
