She’s quick to change the subject like it’s as easy as counting to three. “We have to convince the world we’re madly in love.” She drifts to the vanity and then gracefully lowers onto the stool until she wobbles on the uneven floorboards. Jane catches her balance and then her big blue eyes lift up to me. “Do you have any experience in this area? Love.”
We’re really doing this.
I’ve wanted to.
I almost can’t believe I have the ability now.
“We should research,” Jane says in my silence. “Shouldn’t we?”
“We should,” I confirm.
She snaps off a hair tie, letting her wavy hair loose. “Well, you already know I’m looking down the barrel of four previous friends-with-benefits and zero boyfriends.”
“Why no boyfriends?” I ask.
Her eyes are on mine while she slips on a purple cat-ear headband. “Fame makes serious relationships utterly complicated, and it always seemed like too much stress. I’d rather put energy into my family.”
I nod.
She easily reads my features. “You’re not surprised.”
“No.” I’ve been around her every day for nearly a year. If any of that surprised me, then I’m not paying attention.
Jane likes her life structured and planned out. It gives her a sense of control that she’s inherently lost as a celebrity.
Feeling protected and confident in this plan to fake-date is important to her, and so it’s critical to me.
I watch Jane slowly rise to her feet, and I tell her, “I have two ex-girlfriends.”
“Two.” Her eyes drift along the rug before lifting up to me. “Did you experience love with them?”
A rough laugh catches in my lungs. “Hell no.” I shake my head. “They weren’t relationships I’d model anything after either.” I pause. “Not unless you want to cheat on me.”
Her lips break apart. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s way back.” I can see she’s interested in more. So I push forward. “Through all of eleventh grade, my high school girlfriend was sleeping with a guy she knew I couldn’t stand. I had no idea until graduation.”
She softens her gaze. “Teenagers can be particularly cruel.” She cups her hands in front of her. “I’d say we’re both equally awful at relationships, but you will be my first. Fake relationship, that is, but first nonetheless.” Red blemishes her neck.
I nod. “We’ll pull it off, Jane.” I breathe in a lung full of her fresh flower, spring scent. Wrong move.
My whole body reacts to the smell. It drives me fucking nuts, muscles contracting. Veins blistering. Cock straining against my slacks.
She wafts her blouse, clearly hot. “We will,” she agrees. “So what…um, kind of relationship should we have in public?” She talks quickly. “Should we be inseparably cute? Piggyback rides and sharing snow cones. Or scandalously flirty? French kissing and ass squeezes.”
My hand is clamped on my jaw and mouth. Trying not to think about my hand on her ass. Three Hail Marys is not enough to atone for what I’m feeling about her.
She hooks an arm around her bedpost. “I think being an inseparably cute couple would be easiest, but also not necessarily true to me.”
I drop my hand. “Not true to me either.”
A smile dimples her cheeks. “To us, then. We are highly…physical?” she asks tentatively.
“Affirmative,” I say.
The confirmation cranks the heat another hundred degrees.
“Okay…” She motions to me. “So cute couple is out then. The media might pick up on the deception. The other option is scandalously flirty. But how do we kiss? Not like the mechanics of kissing, which we both, I’m sure, understand.” She rambles on. “But the idea of kissing without screwing. Because usually I screw the people I kiss.” She presses her lips together like she’s forcing herself to stop talking, but our eyes stay glued on each other.
“We’re both adults,” I remind her. “I think we can kiss and stop ourselves from having sex.”
“Normally, I would agree. But it’s been six months.”
I’m inferring she’s talking about how long since she last got laid. I have her beat. “Ten months for me.”
She sways back in surprise. “Really? You didn’t hookup with anyone during the FanCon?”
“No. I wouldn’t fool around with tour crew, and I was busy.” I was focused on protecting Jane. I nod to her. “Been used to long dry spells.” I hear my Philly lilt come out thicker. “It’s not a big deal.”
She’s quick and smart and I’m not surprised when she connects the dots. “When you were in the military?”
I nod again. “I was deployed to combat twice overseas during my four-year tour.”
It feels like another lifetime, and since we’re talking about sex, I’m thinking more about the drawn-out dry spell I had.
Say more. I try to chisel my jaw open. “Staying celibate wasn’t an issue,” I explain. “I have no problem pushing myself into hard situations. I like testing my strength—but I couldn’t convince my girlfriend that I was faithful, not while I was on deployment.”
I explain briefly how my second ex-girlfriend was adamant that someone like me would attract a lot of other women, and she believed I’d struggle to resist and then slip up and cheat. When I got back home, I found out that she’d slept with her ex.
Now they’re married and have two kids.
“I take a lot of fault for what happened,” I say. “I’m hard to read, and I could’ve done better to ease her insecurities.”
She inhales a deeper breath that stretches a silent second into a boiling minute. Both of us hardly blink. Nearing a visceral edge.
Jane swallows and waves to me. “You’re very self-aware, you know.”
I don’t respond yet. Wanting to hear what else she has to say.
“And you’re respectful,” she lists, like she’s constructing a PowerPoint of my traits. “Very considerate, as well. All things I’m drawn towards—which is perfect since you’re my fake boyfriend.”
I throb harder. There is only one of Jane, no other person can be all of who she is, and anyone who harasses this girl might as well be tearing the wings off an angel.
I’m honored that I get to be the one to keep her safe.
She’s my duty.
I also shouldn’t want to fuck an angel.
She’s my client . Remember that.
Jane continues on. “And as evidenced by our history, we can clearly restrain ourselves. Which means we can be two consenting adults who casually kiss and not have sex afterwards.”
Our eyes roam beyond our old restraints.
“That sounds right,” I nod, and I study her flushed body, her ankles crossed like she’s squeezing her thighs together. “We should practice.”
“We should,” she agrees. “Kissing?”
“Kissing,”
I confirm. “I’m a whole foot taller than you.”
“Exactly,” she notes. “If we just do it in public without proper preparation, it’ll be obvious that we’re fake dating.”
“And that it’s your first time.”
Her intrigue piques. “My first time…”
“With me,” I say strongly.
“Right.” Jane smiles. “Should we start now then?” She hesitates, waiting for my answer. “It will be a good litmus test to see if this will even work.”
It’s going to work.
Because the alternative is doing nothing, and I’d rather mount up and frighten away a bunch of targets.
“I’m good to go,” I tell Jane.
She steps away from her bed.
I pry myself off the door, and I do more than take a single step closer. I take several unwavering strides.
She goes still, seeing me approach, and her eyes glint with eagerness. I watch her savor my assured demeanor, and I stop a breath away.
The top of her head, along with her purple cat ears, just reaches my shoulders.
Jane cranes her neck to look up at me. Dark lashes shading beautiful, emotive blue eyes. Silence bands around us, the space shrunken. Air vacuumed.
“So…” Her voice is a breathy whisper. “I’ll just stand on my tiptoes.” She rises on her toes, but barefoot, she barely lifts herself past the broad length of my shoulders.
I could just lean my head down.
I could.
But I don’t.
In a swift, natural move, I cup the back of her thighs, and I hoist Jane up against my body—we’re eye-level, her legs instinctively spreading apart. Wrapping around my waist, gripping tight.
Her hands fly around the back of my neck and nestle in my hair.
“Oh,” she breathes, lips parted in arousal. I can practically hear the my God that sticks to her throat.
Jane.
I eye her, my pulse pounding.
Heat brews and overflows—she feels too good against my body. This is dangerous. I feel her panting. I feel her thumping heartbeat. I feel her in ways I never fucking have, and I just keep drinking in her breathless state.
She’s lapping up this position. Me holding her. Us welded together.
Her palm slides against the back of my neck, fingers threading up in my hair.