Page 6 of Dreams on the Ice

I snort but answer her because she’s probably right. If anyone can put on the bitch persona, it’s her. But she just looks like she could pull it off. Inside, I know that she’s nothing like that. She’s probably the nicest girl in that whole house, and that’s saying a lot because they’re all really fucking great girls.

“Yeah, I can be your rich-bitch girlfriend. I’ll do it happily. Let me know when so I can move my clients around.”

Taking a step toward her, I ball my hands into fists at my side in an effort to keep from reaching out and touching her. I want tocup her cheeks and slide my thumbs across her undoubtedly soft skin. Take her in my arms and kiss the absolute shit out of her.

“Two weeks,” I murmur. “It’s an annual Labor Day extravaganza. The last hurrah before summer is officially over, and right before my season starts hard.”

“I’ll do it,” she whispers.

I almost kiss her out of pure gratitude, but I don’t. Instead, I give her a smirk and drop the hammer. “There are fucking theme parties, too. I can transfer you some money if you need it for clothes.”

Brooklynn laughs, reaching out. She wraps her fingers around my bicep and squeezes. Gently. “I appreciate it, but I got this. Theme outfits are totally my thing. Send me the themes, and I got this.”

“I really appreciate this,” I murmur. “More than you know.”

“Do I want to know why you really need a fake girlfriend?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Humming, I shake my head and clear my throat before speaking. “It’s family dynamics and money,” I state. That’s the fucking truth of it, too. That’s exactly what this shit is.

Family fucking dynamics.

Money.

“Then I’ll be the best girlfriend you could have, Forrest. I get family drama, so I’m here for you.”

Her words are kind and beyond nice. I’m just not sure if they’ll keep me from fucking her. I don’t think I can stay with her at my parents’ house for days and not be inside of her. There is something special about Brooklynn. Her body, her mind, whatever the fuck it is, it calls to me.

I need to be around her, and I ache to be inside her.

Chapter

Three

BROOKLYNN

I don’t sleep.Can’t sleep. I sit straight up, my body covered in a sheen of sweat. I look around and wonder what could have woken me. My eyes are bleary as I look around and blink at the digital clock on my nightstand.

It’s seven in the morning.

The last time I was up this early was for a flight. Nothing other than the promise of champs on an airplane could make me wake up at this ungodly hour. It takes me a moment to get up, and then it hits me all over again.

I’m going to be Forrest Westwood’s fake girlfriend.

Holy shit.

My heart slams against my chest. It beats so wildly that I have to place my hand against the center just to make sure that it doesn’t burst through my body and land on my lap. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I force myself to stand and go to the bathroom.

I’m too full of anxious energy to go to sleep right now. My body feels like every single nerve is on fire, pulsing withunendurable intensity. I should probably do a calming yoga session, but I decide on a run instead. I’m antsy and need to have a release of some kind.

Quickly, I dress in my running clothes, lace up my shoes, and slip on my headphones before I grab my cell and I’m out the door. My feet pound against the pavement, one foot in front of the other, my running playlist on shuffle, and I get lost.

It’s what I need, the only thing that can clear my mind. And I’ve got a lot of stuff jumbling around in my head right now. Just when I decide that I need to get myself together to make a more cohesive schedule, Forrest comes at me with this.

How am I supposed to be able to get my shit together if he is throwing this wrench into the mix? I said yes, but I’m not sure I can really pretend to be his girlfriend without it being more or turning into more. I want him too damn badly.

I’m going to have to find someone to have sex with, someone to take the edge off. There is no amount of running that is going to cure my sexual frustration with this man. Goose bumps break out over my skin, even though it’s a humid morning, at the thought of Forrest and sex.

He doesn’t want me that way, no matter how he watches me. I’m sure he doesn’t. No doubt he has the same unspoken philosophy as I do. Don’t shit where you eat. But thinking about going away with him for days and pretending to be his girlfriend… I don’t think even the strongest woman could handle that.

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