Page 4 of The Fake Boyfriend Fiasco

Yet, as she watched Keynes kiss Mr. Tall, Tan and Terrified, she felt a hot, tight stirring in her belly that had been conspicuously absent for some time. And if it wasn’t related to voyeurism, and it wasn’t there because of Keynes, she supposed that only left one other source.

His friend. The stranger.

Which made sense, considering the way her eyes were currently devouring him. Her gaze danced feverishly from the swell of his biceps as he grabbed Keynes’s arms, to the firm grip of those big, long-fingered hands, to the ferocious frown on his dark brow. A few seconds ago, his features had seemed sweet and friendly, despite his obvious panic. Now his profile was sharp, intense, hungry. She noticed abruptly that he was taller and more muscular than he’d seemed. She wouldn’t have said, thirty seconds ago, that this guy was bigger than Keynes—but now she could see quite clearly that he was, because the two men were plastered together from mouth to hip.

You’d think that situation would put off the blonde woman who appeared a few feet away, with a pair of friends lagging just behind. But it didn’t. Instead she stood for a moment, transfixed, her pink mouth forming a perfect O. Rather like a prim little version of Aria’s own, she imagined.

But the woman’s fixation didn’t last quite as long as Aria’s. She pulled herself together much more quickly, a smile taking over her face as she trilled, “Nik! There you are!”

At the sound of her voice, the stranger—Nik, apparently—stiffened. He broke the kiss, easing gently away from Keynes, a sort of grim resignation taking over his features. It was pretty obvious he’d hoped to make the woman disappear, for some reason, but she clearly wasn’t that faint-hearted.

Typically, Aria was highly suspicious of men who ran from women. In her experience, that kind of situation suggested that a man had taken something, or else that he owed something, and in order to avoid dealing with his responsibilities, he was leading some poor cow on a merry chase.

But something about this particular man seemed so disturbingly… genuine. Or maybe she was just making excuses for herself. Maybe he was quite clearly scum, but her libido had taken over her brain. Whatever the reason, Aria did something deliciously reckless.

She stepped forward, caught the man’s face in her hands, and brought her lips to his.

It wasn’t difficult. Not just because she was tall and wearing killer heels besides—although that helped—but because he seemed totally onboard. Clearly, he was pretty fucking eager to avoid the woman standing a few feet away. Aria had just enough time to note that his eyelashes were ridiculously long, and his brown eyes looked almost black. Then his mouth was on hers and raw, needy lust rolled through her body like a tidal wave.

Kissing wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Or rather, it was supposed to, but it never, ever did. In her nightly fantasies, a kiss would be enough to heat her blood, to sensitise her skin and send a shiver through her body, but in reality, it never was.

And yet, kissing the stranger did all that and more.

Maybe it was the way he held her; not settling his hands somewhere polite but wrapping both those thick arms around her waist and hauling her against him. Maybe it was the feel of his broad chest, his abdomen, his hips, pressed tight to hers. Maybe it was the fact that, despite the insistence of his touch, he kissed her almost gently. His lips moved over hers in a series of soft caresses. He didn’t stick his tongue down her throat like an over-friendly dog. He didn’t put his tongue in her mouth at all.

Even though she kind of wanted him to.

That inappropriate desire reminded Aria that she was doing this for a reason. This guy wasn’t kissing the hell out of her for kicks; he had an audience to perform for. To what end, she had no idea—but this kiss definitely made her Top 3 of All-Time list, so Aria decided she owed him.

He wanted to put on a show? She could do that. She could definitely, definitely do that.

Aria slid her hands from his jaw to the thick, silky strands of his hair, raking her fingers through it as she rolled her hips against his. She wasn’t expecting him to release a soft groan against her lips, so quiet she almost missed it, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Not at all. She also couldn’t complain when one of his hands began to roam, sliding down the small of her back, skipping her arse—boo!—but grabbing her thigh—yay!—and dragging her leg high.

At that point, her brain powered down completely to accommodate for all the extra blood her other body parts were demanding. And by ‘other body parts’ she meant her clit, which might as well be a bloody landmine. One touch and she’d explode. She’d better stop things here, because the arousal dancing along her nerve endings was starting to get out of hand.

Aria broke the kiss. Her vagina literally wept, but she did it anyway. Her vagina, after all, did not make the decisions here.

Her breath came in soft pants as she studied the face in front of her. The face of the man who’d just given her at least a month’s worth of wanking material. He had golden skin, a broad nose and broader cheekbones, a square jaw and deep-set eyes that mirrored the shock she felt. Aria’s gaze flicked down to his mouth without permission. His lips were full, slightly parted, bracketed by laugh lines. She wanted to taste them again.

“Gamóto,” he breathed, the word harsh like a curse. “You—you’re…”

Nice to know she wasn’t the only one whose thoughts had been scattered by that lust tornado. But now probably wasn’t the time for startled stuttering.

She tore her gaze away from him and turned to give the blonde woman a look. It wasn’t her scariest look—not even close—but it was A Look. And it had the desired effect.

The woman didn’t seem quite so unconcerned anymore. Her blue eyes were wide, her mouth tight, her hands curled into fists at her sides. She started to speak, a strangled, choked sound emerging from her lips. Then she snapped her mouth shut again. Finally, as Aria had expected, she turned on her heel and hissed, “Let’s go!”

Her friends hurried off after her, tossing disgusted glares over their shoulders. As soon as they all disappeared, Aria took a step back, breaking free of the stranger’s embrace—no matter how good his hands felt. He let her go, but the startled expression on his handsome face had turned into something more like awe.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

Aria shrugged. “Minor intimidation tactics. I’m a lot scarier than Keynes.”

Keynes huffed out a laugh. “On sight, sure.”

“But…” The stranger shook his head, frowning down at her long, yellow skirts. “You’re not scary at all. You look like a princess.”

Aria’s brows flew up. Beside her, Keynes gaped at the man standing in front of them, his jaw as slack as hers felt. This guy must be taking the piss, right? But he looked genuinely confused, and completely earnest, and…

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