Page 48 of Fake Fiancé for the Billionaire Rockstar

I don’t answer.

He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. "I have something for you."

He pulls out a small sprig of mistletoe, holding it above our heads with a playful grin.

My eyes fall back to his, something that seems to happen more and more lately. Then he smirks. “Rules are rules, Sunshine.”

He winks when I scrunch my eyebrows together, confused by his words, and his gaze darts above us in amusement. I follow his line of sight, only to see him holding a mistletoe and a cocky grin on his face.

“We never got to have a kiss under the mistletoe at the cabins, so I thought I’d bring the moment to you myself,” he says proudly. “Smart, right?”

“I-I can’t,” I choke out.

“Everyone knows that you have to kiss whoever is under the mistletoe with you. Do you want to be the first person to break that tradition, Sunshine?”

I want to turn away from him, to tell him to get the hell out of my apartment and blast everything on the internet about what our real relationship is like, but everything inside of me is screaming not to do that.

This man is standing in front of me, a mistletoe hanging above our heads, simply because we never got this moment on our trip. How could I possibly turn that down and, more importantly, do I evenwantto?

Slowly, I rise on my tiptoes, my lips meeting his in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens. His arms encircle me, pulling me flush against him, and I melt into his embrace.

My body reacts to the moment — pussy clenching, heart soaring, knees buckling — and I let myself relax into his chest. His tongue slips between my parted lips, then he’s gliding both his hands over my ass and squeezing until a gasp falls from my lips. At the sound of it, he lifts me up and sits me onto the edge of the counter without his lips ever leaving mine.

He runs his hands over my thighs, pushing them apart enough that he’s able to step between them, and my pussy aches for him when I feel his hard length rub against me from behind his jeans. I break away from the kiss breathlessly. Then he tugs on the back of my neck and tilts my face up so that my neck is exposed to him.

"This," he murmurs against my skin, "is exactly what I want." His lips find my pulse point, sending shivers down my spine. "There's no one else I'd rather have as my fake fiancé." He kisses me gently, teasingly, making me squirm. Then, his voice drops lower, husky with emotion. "But I've got to be honest... 'fake' is quickly losing its appeal."

My eyes snap open, colliding with his heated stare, and I blink in surprise. “Wh-what do you mean?”

He slides his other hand over my stomach, along my chest, and rests his fingers around my neck with a smirk — he’s not squeezing, and that only makes the action that much hotter.

“I mean,” he says huskily, his tongue darting out to form a trail along my skin, “this isn’t fake for me anymore.”

His words leave me breathless, my heart skipping a beat. As he leans in, gently grazing my ear with his teeth, my thoughts blur. I should push him away, tell him he's not thinking clearly. But I can't. Because deep down, I've been wondering the same thing: What if this wasn't just pretend?

“Tell me, Sunshine. Do you feel it too?”

My heart races.

Instead of answering him, I pull him closer, my arms encircling his neck. Our lips meet in a tender kiss that deepens with unspoken emotion. He pushes the hand that was around my neck, down the front of my shirt, palming my breasts, and rollsmy nipple between his fingers enough to elicit a soft moan from my throat.

“You can’t deny it, can you?” He reaches for the hem of my shirt with his other hand and pushes it up, then pulls away from the kiss to tug it over my head and throw it onto my kitchen floor.

I arch my back into him, desperate for more, but he backs away from me slightly with a grin. “Tell me what you want, Sunshine, and you can have it all. Admit that my feelings aren’t one sided.”

“Everything,” I whisper. “I want everything with you.”

It’s the most truthful I’ve been about my feelings this entire time, and it feels like a weight lifted off my chest. Donny’s eyes go from heated to a blazing inferno and before I know it, he’s lifting me from the counter just enough to peel my pants down my legs. The counter is cold beneath my bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat coursing through me as Donny takes a step back, stripping off his own clothes.

I tighten my fingers around the edge of the counter as I try my hardest not to reach out and run them along his chiseled chest, but I can’t help it when my teeth sink into my bottom lip. Donny’s gaze zeroes in on the action and he stalks forward, every glorious naked inch of him, before tugging my lips from their hold.

“These lips are too pretty for all that,” he murmurs, then brings me into a searing kiss drawing me in deeper, making it harder to deny the pull I feel toward him. Donny’s broken through everywall I’ve built. What if I let myself fall, only to discover this isn’t truly real?

Before I can come to a conclusion, Donny’s mouth pulls away from mine and he wraps around a nipple before sucking gently. I jerk against him, my ass nearly coming off the counter, but he quickly reaches out to stop me from falling.

“I deserve a treat after the show I put on tonight, don’t you think?”

I don’t even know if I respond—my mind too clouded with everything happening. But it’s enough for Donny to drop to his knees and pull me forward, his tongue immediately sliding through my slick folds. He groans against me, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure as he flicks his tongue over my clit, and I can feel the tension coiling tighter with each stroke.

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