Page 40 of It's Not All Fake

“Tell me what you want,” I plead, searching for a way to fix this.

She opens her eyes, meeting my gaze, uncertainty flickering as she considers her answer.

“I don’t want to feel bought,” she finally says.

“You’re not bought,” I respond immediately, floored that she could think that. “That’s not how I feel.”

She studies my expression, looking for the truth. A curl of her brunette hair blows across her face, and she wraps her arms around herself, chilled in the night air.

“Chloe, I think we both know this isn’t just business anymore,” I say, searching her eyes, wanting to break through the barrier she’s put up.

She remains quiet, but I see something shift in her expression—surprise, I realize. She didn’t expect me to admit we’ve crossed into something else.

I see her soften, but she’s still hesitant, waiting for something else.

“Please, Chloe,” I implore. “I want you to feel comfortable.” I reach out to touch her. I rub my hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her. She doesn’t pull away.

“You need to stop saying that. It’s bullshit.” She smiles.

I grin. “Okay, it’s bullshit.” She’s right. I want to make her feel something—make her adrenaline rush and heart beat faster.

I can’t tear my eyes away from her. Chloe holds my gaze, unflinching. I can hear the ocean waves crashing out in the darkness.

“Is this the part where I get to kiss you goodnight?” I ask, filled with hope.

Chloe smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “I think we’re exactly at that part, yes.”

Without a moment's hesitation, I lean in and kiss her deeply. Relief washes over me as she melts into the embrace. It’s heartfelt and consuming, and I never want to stop. But if I don’t, I’m going to need more of her—again.

I reluctantly end the kiss. “Goodnight, Chloe.”

“Goodnight,” she replies with a smile, opening her car door.

As she drives away, I head to my BMW parked two spots away. My mind whirls with thoughts. Tonight, everything has shifted.

I’m captivated by Chloe—my employee, my pretend girlfriend. I never thought this fake relationship could feel so real.

I’m in serious trouble.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHLOE

Iam completely fucked.

Literally—it was amazing sex. I’ve been sitting at my office desk, chewing on a pen cap, and staring at the couch across the room, remembering the feeling of his body against mine, how he felt so good.

But the worst part is that it wasn’t just sex. Liam is tender, sweet, charming, and a whole bunch of other adjectives that make my knees weak. And I am falling for him. Hard.

They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Calling your sponsor is a good idea too.

I force myself out of my thoughts and into the present moment. A rectangular patch of sunlight falls across my desk, the sun starting its descent into the horizon. My phone glints in the light on the desk. I pick it up and unlock it.

An article about Liam appears on the screen; Ashley sent it to me earlier.

Liam Wright spotted kissing new girlfriend shrink Chloe Middleton.

The “shrink” part isn’t accurate. I’m no psychologist. But the picture—that part is all too real. Liam’s arms are wrapped around me in the photograph, our lips locked, completely lost in each other and oblivious to the fact that our picture was being taken, illuminated by the streetlight in the parking lot.

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