Page 38 of Fake

He sets the mugs down in front of us, then pauses at the door. I feel his eyes boring into the back of my head like a guard dog alerting to danger before he closes the door and once again, Mina and I are alone. She takes a drink of what looks more like a milkshake than a coffee, and I sip a rich, dark brew. Her outfit is demure today, a cream-colored blouse buttoned up to her throat and a form fitting blue skirt that stops just below her knees. It’s a stark contrast to the red dress she wore the other night, but my hands still ache to be on that body.

Mina rests her elbows on the desk and her chin on her hands. “As I was saying, if we’re going to pull this fake relationship off, we need to be better prepared than we were at your parents’ house. We need a story and we need a plan, Mr. West. A good one.”

“Before we get to that, you need an apology, Ms. Blake. A good one.” I smile as I mimic her no-nonsense speech pattern. “I wasn’t myself that day. I haven’t been myself for some time now and I assure you, you won’t deal with that version of me again.”

“So, you’re saying that behavior isn’t typical for you.” Her eyes glimmer with ball busting glee. She’s given me that excuse more than once and looks thrilled to throw the words back into my face. I hate that I gave her the ammunition but respect her for using it. It will, however, be the last time Mina Blake gets the better of me.

I glare into my coffee before meeting her eyes. “Since you called me in early, I assume you have ideas on how we should prepare, which would be strange because planning ahead seems out of character for the Hot Mess Express.”

There. That’s better. A return to equilibrium. It’s better when we bicker.

“There’s a hot mess in this room, but I don’t think it’s me.” With a crooked grin, Mina cups her mug in both hands and sits back to cross her legs. “In no particular order, we need an end date on this relationship. We need parameters in place regarding physical contact, number of dates we’ll be going on, what those dates will look like, and who pays for what while we’re out. We need our stories straight about how we met and why we like each other because what happened last week was humiliating.”

I take another pull of coffee to hide my smile. “That’s a comprehensive list.”

She nods, pleased. “I think you’ll find me most thorough.”

I flash to her naked, on her knees, her mouth on my dick while I wrap my fist in that silky hair. How thorough would she?—

What the actual fuck?

What is wrong with me?

Mina and I have a business agreement. There’s no room for her lips on my dick in a business agreement. Not even when it happens in my head. And especially when we don’t even know each other.

Or like each other.

Mina. In the car. Watching bugs dance through streetlights. “I think maybe you’re working through something and, well, you don’t have to work through it alone…”

I scrub the memory away.

“All right,” I say, like I didn’t just mentally fuck her mouth. “An end date.” I stare towards the ceiling and pluck the first one that comes to mind. “My cousin Nick received orders and will ship out soon. He’ll be home in six months. We can stage a breakup after we’ve been to the party my family is sure to throw in his honor.”

“Six months?” Mina arches a brow, probably wondering if she can stand to be around me that long.

“Six months,” I say with a decisive nod.

“It’ll take about that long to finalize the plans for your house. So, the timing works in more ways than one.” She jots a note on her tablet. “What about physical contact? I can’t have you groping me whenever you feel like it.”

I lean forward, forearms on her desk, drunk on the scent of citrus. “As I remember, you’re the one who groped me. I simply readjusted my hands on your back.”

“And commented on my underwear.” Mina sips her coffee, then mimics my posture, her gaze locked on mine. Her blues meet my greens and I swear she’s daring me to say otherwise.

Obviously, that solidifies my need for the last word.

“Did I?” I cock my head. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Oh, you better believe you did. Like it was my fault that you can’t control yourself. Who in their right mind would blame someone else for their own bad judgment?” Her eyes flash with surprise and it sounds like she’s working herself up to righteous indignation, so I hold up my hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m very sorry about the underwear comment and won’t do anything like that again.” At least not out loud. When it comes to Mina Blake, my mind seems happy to wander into filthy territory on its own accord.

She sits back, satisfied. “I’m glad we both agree. Also, no more unplanned butt touching.”

I surprise myself by laughing. “Honestly, that should go without saying.”

“Right?” Mina quirks her head and laughs to herself. “Anyway, we obviously need to do some of that stuff in public if we want people to believe we’re in a relationship. We can definitely hold hands.”

“And you can lean into me.” She did that at the party. It wasn’t awful.

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