Page 19 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

I’m getting more confused by the minute. And—my eyes rest on her exposed cleavage—I’m also getting hornier with every breath I take.

A terrible combination.

And the woman standing in front of me holds the keys to my satisfaction in both areas.

I’m unfamiliar with this gym, but I’ve been in enough of them to know the locker rooms are somewhere near the back. I pull her down the rows of equipment. Very few people are on this side of the floor, and the only person we pass is Mr. Holloway, who’s now using the spinning bike. Charlie’s anger seems to burn off when she sees him, and she waves gaily. The man grins back at me.

Not the best for my temper.

When I push her into a changing stall and lock the door behind us, I’m practically fuming. The space, made for one person, is tiny, and we can barely stand withoutour bodies touching. Charlie pins her back against the wall instantly, trying to get as far from me as possible. I block her in by fixing both of my arms on either side of her head.

“What the fuck are you up to, Charlie?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes are grim and determined. She’s back to hating me. Hating meandfreezing me out. The combination she’s perfected since the day I confessed my feelings to her.

Damn this woman.

The last shred of my self-control finally breaks. Curling my arm around her waist, I yank her up against me so our lower bodies are pressed together. I regret that a moment later, when my dick starts to throb. Charlie gasps, apparently feeling the sensation. I can’t bring myself to care. Making her uncomfortable feels like a small price to pay for everything she’s put me through.

“What did you tell Mr. Holloway about me? That we’re friends?”

“We’re not friends.” Her response is instant, cutting. Her eyes fill with regret a second later, but I can tell she’s not sorry about hurting me. Probably thinks it would have been better to agree with me than tell the truth.

A twinge of hurt burns in my chest at her quick admission. We were friends for a long time, until she threw it all away. And even after all these years, the tiniest part of me still stings because of her rejection.

But at least now I can do something about it.

“Damn right, we’re not,” I growl. Her eyes widen with surprise. I take her hand, pushing it between our bodies, pressing her palm against my aching dick. Charlie gasps, but the relief I feel at finally feeling her touch, even through layers of clothing, is earth-shattering. “Because if you weremy friend, I wouldn’t be thinking of fucking you the way I have been, every single day for months now.”

Charlie lets out another sound, closer to the moan I’ve been longing to hear again. And then, slowly, so slowly that I cannot be sure I’m not imagining it, she curls her fingers around my cock, feeling for herself.

I collapse against the wall, almost crushing her. All of my animosity toward her disappears, along with every question I’ve got about Mr. Holloway. Hell, I wouldn’t even care if the sun came down and swallowed us both.

Filled with the need to touch more of her, I dig my hand into the waistband of her leggings. I brush past her panties, heading straight for her core. The space is warm and…moist.Dripping.Charlie was as affected at the kiss as I was.

She moans as I brush my fingers across her clit. Her body angles to me, silently begging for more. As much as I want to forget about it, my questions are seeping back into my head.

Along with a determination to seize control.

With my other hand, I free one of her tits from her top. It spills out, her pink nipple hardening under my glare. I hold the pebbled peak between thumb and forefinger, and a shiver runs through her.

“What game are you playing?” I whisper, my lips finding her ear.

She shakes her head. I brush against her clit again, and she trembles, pressing even closer to me. But she stays silent.

I squeeze her nipple tighter. Charlie moans again, her walls of resistance crumbling. She’s desperate for me to finger her, I know. Maybe even to fuck her. Looks like she won’t be opposed to it, what with the fact that she keeps leakingover my fingers.

“Damn it, Chapman. What the hell are you doing to me?” I ask, my voice coming out in a growl. The faster I figure out her game, the faster I can claim her and put an end to my misery.

She’s panting now. “N-Nothing.”

She’s lying, and we both know it. I was friends with Charlie for far too long to not be able to read her like the back of my hand. Even now.

I brush my fingers around her swollen clit again. Charlie cries out in pleasure. “Please,” she gasps. “Please.”

“Please what?” It’s hard to stop myself from digging into her, from exploring her the way I did at the club, but I’ve got to hear her talk.

Her brown eyes find mine. For once, there’s no hatred in them. Just pure need.

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