Page 43 of Fake

SEVENTEEN

Nathan

Mina’s ass rubs against my cock as I lean over to adjust her grip on a pool cue. I swear to God, she’s doing it on purpose. This sexy little sway back and forth, back and forth, like a cat swishing its tail as she lines up her shot. There’s no way she doesn’t feel what she’s doing to me, so I have no qualms about doing it right back to her.

“You want to hold the stick like this.” My breath moves past her ear, lips whispering against the delicate skin at the nape of her neck. My body blankets hers. She shivers, exhaling sharply before glancing over her shoulder to meet my eyes.

We’re face to fucking face. Those blue eyes holding me in a death grip of seduction.

“Like this?” Mina readjusts her grasp, giving her focus back to the pool table and wiggling those lush hips against me again.

“Just like that,” I growl, though if she doesn’t stop, we’re going to have a very real, very obvious problem on display. I straighten to let her take the shot, surreptitiously eyeing the patrons at The Pact to see how many people give two shits about our cliché attempt at looking like a couple.

My aunt Hope drops me a knowing wink before disappearing into the office she shares with her husband. She’s happy for me, which makes me a dick for selling her a lie, but at least Mina and I are convincing. It’s been a while since anyone has mentioned me needing to get my shit together, so the family rumor mill is obviously doing its job.

The crack and clatter of pool balls scattering across felt catches my attention. Mina gasps, then whoops in excitement, lifting her hands over head and wiggling in the spiciest celebratory dance I’ve ever seen. I adjust my pants and try not to stare, though the guys a few tables over don’t join me in the effort. I clear my throat and cock my head, mean-mugging them until they get the message and look away. Assholes.

“Bet you regret teaching me how to play pool now, don’t you Sweet Prince?” Mina wiggles her way towards me, eyes blistering with heat.

Fake heat, I remind myself. Though she’s getting too good at faking it and my body is getting tired of fighting it. Another jolt of desire strikes like lightning. It’s very, very real.

Each date we’ve gone on, the flirting has gotten hotter, the eye contact heavier. We talk about stupid things, argue about everything, but somehow, someway, I feel less like she sees me as a bank account and more like she sees me. Not the villain. Nor the wealthy philanthropist.

Me. Not the…the…trope.

I actually look forward to our nights out.

Instead of stepping away—which is what Mina’s expecting—I move into her space, backing her against the pool table and caging her with my arms. My nose brushes hers. Her breath warms my lips.

“Gettin’ a little cocky for someone who still needs me to set up her shots.”

“Oh, big bad scowly man.” She brushes the tip of my nose with her finger. “Maybe I only let you think I still need your help. Maybe I like it when you touch me, and I play dumb so you won’t stop.”

The twinkle in her eyes could mean anything. Maybe she’s telling the truth. Or maybe she knows she’s getting to me and is proud of herself.

Only one way to find out.

I grab her by the waist and pull her close, our bodies crashing together, my hand strong and possessive against her back. “You mean touch you like this?”

Mina gasps, her eyes wide and dilated, her chest heaving. “Yes,” she whispers on an exhale, voice shaking, “like that.”

I swallow hard as all things Mina invade my senses. Her scent. Her touch. I consider kissing her and in that brief moment I think she considers kissing me, but I release her before either of us can make that mistake.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m playing with fire, touching her like that.

The question is echoed in Mina’s eyes as she puts some distance between us to set up her next shot. She licks her lips, a sign she’s working up the courage to say something she’s nervous to have out in the open. Everything about her demeanor changes. I don’t know if it’s because of what just happened or what she’s about to tell me.

“Benjamin came to see me last night.”

I scowl. What possible reason would he have to drop in outside of work hours? Whatever it is, I’m not a fan.

“At home?”

“At the office.” Mina sights down the cue, her tongue caught between her lips, then sighs and straightens. “He was prepping for our meeting this morning, went for a drive, saw my car, and stopped in because he was so excited about the plans for your build, he couldn’t wait to show me.”

Or, he was so excited about the beautiful woman all alone after dark that he couldn’t pass up a chance to see her without anyone else getting in the way. Benjamin is attracted to Mina. I have no doubts about that. Who wouldn’t be? Obviously, I am. As are the guys at the table next to us. And if the way our waitress keeps stopping by to stare means anything, she is too.

So why is this Benjamin conversation making my jaw clench?

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