Pretend We're Over (Pretend 2)

As much as I want to, I won’t do that to Oaklee. I don’t know what’s going on between her and Boden, but I need to see her. And our friends might have some insight into what happened last night. Surely, we didn’t actually get married. It was probably some act to distract from the pain Oaklee is feeling if she isn’t married.

“No, we have to go,” I say.

“And say what? We don’t know what happened last night.”

Sebastian follows me back to the bedroom—the scene of the crime.

“What are you doing?” he asks, as I walk into the closet.

I pull out one of Oaklee’s dresses and khakis and a button-down from Boden’s suitcase—luggage they had brought up when the room was ready yesterday. “Here, put this on.”

“I’m not wearing Boden’s clothes.”

“Well, there is no time to go back to your hotel room to get dressed. So yes, you are.”

I hold up the dress that I know is going to show off my every curve. Sebastian stares at it, his eyes imagining it on my body.

“Fine, if you’re going to wear that, I can manage wearing Boden’s preppy clothes.”

“Good.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door in Sebastian’s face.

“If we are husband and wife, I should really get to see you undress!” he yells through the door.

“We aren’t, so you don’t get to look!” I shout back as I change out of Sebastian’s clothes. Oaklee wants us downstairs in twenty minutes, so I don’t have time to shower and get ready.

I stare at the shower. I should shower. I should remove all evidence of Sebastian from my body, get his scent off of me.

I take a deep breath, breathing in his shirt. It smells like pine and fresh grass and man. It smells like Sebastian. I fold the shirt up neatly along with his boxers and put them on the edge of the counter.

Then I flip the shower on and step under the cool spray. I can’t get sentimental when it comes to Sebastian. He’s not mine. It doesn’t matter if we are technically married or not. It doesn’t matter if we slept together or not. We aren’t together.

I step out, quickly blow dry my hair, and slip into one of Oaklee’s dresses. I don’t have time for makeup. I don’t have time to search through Oaklee’s bag to find hers. So instead, I pinch my cheeks. I don’t wear makeup that often anyway, I’m more a tomboy than a girlie girl.

I open the door and find Sebastian. He turns when I step out, staring at me with his intense smolder that would have me jumping back into bed with him.

“That won’t work,” I say.

“What won’t?”

“That look you are giving me won’t convince me to fuck you again.”

He leans in close.

I hold my breath, so I can’t breathe him in. I’m strong enough to fight his good looks, but there is something about his smell that makes me weak in the knees and ready to do something stupid for him.

“Good thing I wasn’t asking then. Because I only fuck women once.”

I roll my eyes and start walking toward the door. “Of course you do. You’re one of those man-whores who thinks his dick is so special that it can only grace a woman’s pussy once. When in reality, no woman would make the mistake of fucking your disgusting dick twice.”

I reach the door and grab the handle, but Sebastian slams his hand on the door, preventing me from opening it.

“Oh, sweet Millie, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to ride my cock again.”

“No way in hell.”

And then he runs the back of fingers softy down my cheek. I melt on the inside at how gentle and warm his touch is.

This is the man I want.