Page 25 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said primly.

He studied her awkward perch on the bed, clearly skeptical. “Get up, then.”

“No, thank you,” she clipped out. “I’m not feeling very well.”

All at once, concern softened his features. Nik sank to his knees in front of her, then winced.

“Are you supposed to do that?” she asked, remembering the recurring injury that he claimed was just fine. It probably wasn’t quite so fine after he’d spent all day playing football.

“Doesn’t matter. Are you okay? Georgia said you felt weird.” He smoothed a hand over her hair like she was a fucking kitten or something. “Do you want a drink? Are you hungry?”

Well, now she felt bad. He actually seemed worried. “Um, no. No, I just need a rest.”

Nik nodded slowly. “Why don’t you lie down?”

“I will.” Her voice came out a bit too high and squeaky.

He arched a brow, suspicion creeping into his gaze again. “Okay.”

There was a pause. Apparently, he was waiting for her to move. Aria, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how to make a box of dildos disappear. Why had she even brought the fucking thing?

Oh, yes; because she was incredibly horny at the best of times, and he was gorgeous enough to make the issue almost unbearable.

“Aria,” he said, “what is that?”

“What is what?” she snapped. He couldn’t see the sox she was currently crushing to death, could he?

No; Nik’s gaze wasn’t even close to her arse. He was staring at the suitcase she’d dragged out of the wardrobe—or rather, at the lid of the sox, sitting beside it on the cream carpet.

“Oh,” she said quickly, “that. It’s… nothing.”

His smile turned predatory, a cocky glint lighting his eyes. She could tell just by the look on his face that he was taking this interaction as a challenge.

Which did not bode well for her.

“Nothing?” he repeated. “So, it’s definitely not the lid of the box you just sat on?”

“I’m not sitting on anything,” she said stiffly.

“You’re not?”

“No! Good Lord. Sitting… on a box… why would I possibly do such a thing?”

“Sweetheart. Move, or I will move you.”

“Fuck off,” she scowled. “You can’t—” Aria broke off as she remembered that, yes, he could. He’d already proven he was strong enough to throw her around. Fuck. “You put a hand on me, and I’ll bite you.”

Grinning, he leaned in until their noses almost touched. “Don’t tease, moro mou.”

“Nik…”

“If you want to bite me, you can. You only ever had to ask.” She became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of swimming trunks, his chest bare. And she was only wearing a bikini, for that matter. A bikini whose top he was now staring at openly, because her nipples were hard enough to cut diamonds. They only got harder when he released a low, heavy breath that almost sounded like a moan, dragging his teeth over his lower lip.

“I should warn you,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I bite back.”

“Menstrual cups!” she blurted out.

Nik looked up with a blink. “What?”

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