Page 5 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

I’d still be dancing ballet, for one. Not stuck in this club, desperately trying to save my father through any means possible.

“We should go talk at the bar,” I say, taking a step back. I planned to deliver this statement with a lot more enthusiasm and casualness to it, like it just popped into my head. But my voice comes out in a croak.

Ken says nothing. And then… I feel it before I know what’s happening—Ken’s callused arm curving around my waist again, pulling me back to him. My hips graze his, and this time I feelhim.Unmistakably hard, imprinted against the jeans he’s wearing.

My heart is swallowed by a swarm of nervous butterflies—hestillmakes me tingle all over. I look up at him, my pulse hammering in my throat. The smile is still plastered on his face, aware of what I’m feeling and totally unrepentant.

It hits me then. Ken Edwards, the one who would’ve never dared to be this brash, my sweet high school friend, is gone. The man standing in front of me is exactly that. A man. One who does not hide that he wants to fuck me.

I expected this,I remind myself. I planned for it. I picked this outfit particularly to arouse him. I knew, and I hoped I would get a reaction out of him.

But no matter what I tell myself in my head, I can’t quite keep calm about Ken’s openness, his dick digging into my lower abdomen.

Because it’s not just about his desire. It’s the fact that he’s taking control.

He bends over me, and my heart pounds. Is he about to kiss me, right in front of his buddies? Goosebumps start on my neck as he positions his lips over my ear. Finally, he says, “Yeah, we should.”

My mind feels like it’s been swarmed by a million bees. I can’t bring myself to smile back, to say anything. To even look over at his friends and reassure myself they aren’t staring. After all, even with Ken’s obvious erection, this is a chance meeting between friends—or so he thinks. I should be able to act that out, right?

No.

Ken starts for the bar, holding my hand and pulling me behind him. I follow him, sliding between tables and people, my heart a knot in my chest. This plan is failing, andit hasn’t even begun to unfold. It’s not just Ken’s desire for me, butmydesire for him. I’d assumed that we would get a few drinks, flirt a little.

ThatIwould be in control.

Just before we settle on the stools at the farthest edge of the bar, I manage to give myself a pep talk of sorts. I tell myself that my reaction to him means nothing. I haven’t been with a guy in a while. Of course, my body’s bound to react to the first man that touches me this way.

Even if that man is Ken Edwards.

It works. I’ve convinced myself, barely. We’re in a spot that’s so dark we’re practically going to be invisible to everyone else. He orders us a negroni and a cosmopolitan. It’s hard to hop on my stool without my skirt riding up my thighs. I keep my legs locked together, not trusting myself to sit in a more relaxed position.

He settles on his stool and turns to me. There’s a pleasant, more genuine smile on his face. The kind you should actually have when you’re seeing someone for the first time in a decade.

“What’s it been? Like ten years?”

I raise a brow. He knows damn well how long it’s been. How could he not?

The bartender brings us the drinks, and I take a large sip of my cocktail. The cool, smooth liquid slips into my mouth, a symphony of flavors dancing on my tastebuds. Then I take a second sip that sends a fiery shot to my brain. Suddenly, I feel clear. Free. Aware of what I’ve got to do and filled with a steely sense of determination.

“Yeah, I know it’s been ten years,” he says with a grin, before taking a large sip of his negroni. It surprises me that he can read my looks as clearly as he used to when we were kids. “Just…I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He’s being so casual. So…normal. Like he didn’t press me up against his erection a second ago.

Maybe I wasn’t meant to feel that, I rationalize. That might not have been his intention. Or maybe I was wrong. It could have been a phone, or something else stashed in his pocket.

“I didn’t expect to run into you in Las Vegas, either.” Just like I rehearsed. Make it seem like a coincidence. A chance in a million.

He doesn’t buy it. “I’m here every year when we’re celebrating the end of a season. But you…” He eyes me quizzically. “Clubbing doesn’t seem like your scene.”

His presumptuousness annoys me. To be fair, a lot of things about Ken are going to annoy me tonight. And forever.

“Maybe you don’t know what my scene is anymore.”

“Maybe I can guess.” He calls for a second round of drinks. I take mine, feeling slightly buzzed. This time, I’m made strongly aware of how close we’re sitting, our knees almost brushing. And of the fact that I was lying when I tried to convince myself that I’m not attracted to him.

As if on cue, Ken asks, “You still in touch with Kali?”

The question is casual enough, but even in the darkness, I see his jaw set. He already expects an answer that he’s going to hate. Makes me almost sad that I can’t give it to him.

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