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“Everything all right?” she whispers. She runs her hands over her breasts and down to sit on her waist. She gives a playful wiggle of her hips. “Henley?”
Is she playing with me?
“I’m fine,” I reply sharply. “We should get going.”
“Okay.”
I open the door, and she sashays past me; I follow her down the corridor with my eyes on her ass.
I imagine bending her over and giving it to her from behind. I wouldn’t need any practice for that one. I know what to do.
We get into the elevator, and she takes my hand in hers. “I’m looking forward to tonight.” She smiles casually.
“Me too,” I lie. I have no interest in the event tonight. We are only going so that I have a legitimate reason to touch her.
“Our second fake date.” She smiles up at me.
I smirk, and then in slow motion she lifts my hand to her lips and kisses the back of it tenderly.
Uneasiness falls over me.
Don’t do that.
“I’m eating all the dessert tonight.” She smiles casually. “I wonder what the main course will be.” She kisses my hand again, completely distracted. “I’m hoping we can order whatever we want. I’m craving carbs.”
I stare at her as the walls close in around me. This feels very real-date-like.
The way she looks. The way I feel.
“You should stick to protein,” I mutter.
She giggles and nudges me with her shoulder. I nudge her back. She nudges me again.
“Juliet, don’t push your luck, or you will find yourself being fucked in the foyer of this hotel.”
She giggles. “You wish.”
I do, actually.
I clear my throat, annoyed by my body’s reaction to her. “A date is a date, and all date entitlements should be made readily available.”
“What?” She laughs. “So you think because we are on a fake date that we could actually have sex tonight?”
“Who knows.”
“Hen . . .” She goes up onto her toes and kisses me softly. My hands instinctively snap around her waist. “I’m looking for something more regular.”
“With him?”
“No, not with him.”
“Then with who?”
“Someone I have chemistry with.”
I stare at her, choosing my next words wisely. The elevator doors open, thankfully cutting me off.
Hand in hand, we walk out through the foyer and head down the street. She chats away while my mind is running a million miles per minute.
