Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

Damon leans back in his chair and finally looks satisfied that there is absolutely nothing between me and Stacy. “Okay. Should we dance? You need to make a choice, because I’m fairly certain everyone here knows we aren’t together and that you’re not really gay. You either double down on this lie of yours or come clean. I vote for the latter but will support you if you choose option A.”

“Guess you need to show me your dance moves then.”

Damon shakes his head in disappointment. “’Kay. I’m gonna hit the head and then drag you onto the dance floor.”

While Damon walks away, my eyes gravitate to his ass. The one he was begging me to fuck last night in my dream.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“What’s the story?” Will asks, taking the chair next to me.

“What story?”

“You say this is all fake, but is it?”

“And here Damon thinks we’re not convincing enough.” Yeah, I’m deflecting. “He’s a cool guy. I think we’ll be friends after this.”

“You keep staring at his ass.”

“Jealous? Want me to stare at your ass instead?”

“Well, shit, I’m sorry for being concerned for my friend after you came home freshman year and—”

“This is nothing like that.” Only, it’s a hell of a lot like that.

Will is the one person in the world who knows what happened between me and my roommate freshman year of college, but I wasn’t expecting him to throw it back in my face.

“What ended up happening with that, anyway?”

I crack my neck and breathe deep, because I don’t want to get into it right now. I’m already confused enough as it is.

“Ready?” The rumble of Damon’s voice brings me out of my murderous mood. Will’s a lucky man, then.

I stand. “Ready.”

Damon leads me to the dance floor and pulls me close.

“I’m not gonna be the chick,” I say when we fumble with where to put our hands.

He rolls his eyes and grabs me around my waist, and with his free hand, clasps our hands together out to our side. Damon mumbles something that sounds like “God forbid a straight man do anything that resembles a feminine trait.”

Eyes from everywhere around the room land on us. I don’t need to glance around to know the burning sensation at the back of my head is from the stares of both curious and disgusted spectators. Emmett wasn’t the only person to cut me out when Chastity told everyone I was gay.

“Might wanna look like you’re enjoying this,” Damon says at my frown. “We have an audience.”

“I hate dancing.”

“Of course, you do.”

I’m lying. I don’t mind dancing, but the truth is, I hate dancing right now. I hate that we’re on display and that everyone is passing some form of judgment. They’re wondering why I came home, why I’m at Chastity’s wedding, and some are probably even wondering what I’m doing here with Damon. But what I hate more than that is the fact I like being pressed against him a hell of a lot more than a straight guy should.

My gaze wanders around the room and lands anywhere but on Damon. It’s not the stares that are getting to me—it’s him.

“Aren’t you in marketing?” he taunts. “That’s selling, right? You’re not selling this very well.” He cups my head, forcing my eyes to meet his. I beg him silently to let me out of whatever invisible hold he has on me, because his piercing green eyes make me think about things that I shouldn’t.

Like my dream.

His strong arms and how good his hard body feels against me.

And his lips. Those damn lips I can’t stop looking at.

“It’s a short song,” Damon says. “You only have to pretend to like me for a little longer.”

Pretending certainly isn’t the problem. Pretending I’m not drawn to him is.

My eyes go to his mouth again, but when Damon’s brow drops, he catches me in his confused gaze.

“Maddox—”

I don’t know I’m moving closer until my mouth meets his, and I swallow his gasp. My name on his lips breaks the fraying cord attached to my denial.

And when he kisses me back? I’m completely lost.

CHAPTER SIX

DAMON

His mouth is domineering and forceful. And damn, if it doesn’t send a shock straight to my groin. His tongue forces my lips to part, and a moan gets stuck in the back of my throat. Our bodies continue to sway to the slow Ed Sheeran song as I get lost in a kiss that’s fake.

This whole thing is fake.

I need to keep reminding myself of that, because this feels so good. Fuck, too good. Maddox no doubt can feel my cock growing against his hip. Trying to step back—because awkward—I realize I’m not the only one who’s too into this. The hardness between us definitely isn’t just me.

The exact moment Maddox’s brain catches up with his dick, he pulls away. His eyes widen in shock, but his lips are parted in want. He shakes off his dazed expression. “You were right. Everyone was staring, so I thought I’d give them what they were waiting for.”