Page 33 of Forever Fake

I squint at him, assessing. Yeah, I suppose that’s true. “I don’t know. I still thinklikemight be too strong of a word.”

He gazes past me to the passing city scenery. “I’d say you more than liked the orgasm I gave you last night.”

Instantly my skin heats and I glance away from him. I don’t know what on earth I was thinking last night, but when he suggested the idea… I couldn’t bring myself to sayno. In fact, I wanted to know what his mouth would feel like on me, what it would be like to orgasm in his strong arms, and maybe, just maybe my decision had something to do with how sweet he was when I had that meltdown. He was so caring.

In the past, I’d never put the wordsBlake Baronandsweetin the same sentence, but that was before. This man is much more complex than I gave him credit for and I can’t wait to see more sides of him. I know he’s a killer, blackmailer, and clean freak. But he’s also caring, gives pleasure without expecting anything in return, and I swear he sees me in a way no one else does.

I’m not sure if that last part is good or bad.

God, he’s still the man who murdered my childhood friend and her family. I can’t believe I let him touch me the way he did. Never in a million years did I think I’d be sitting in a car bantering with him, pretending to date him.

A prickle of guilt slithers across my skin. Am I betraying her memory by, maybe just a little, starting to like Blake? Definitely.

I clear my throat, changing the subject. “Where are we going this weekend?”

“To a mountain lake resort. Mohonk Mountain House. It’s quaint, I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“And we’re going there… why?”

“I thought it would be an ideal location for a marriage proposal.”

My heart lurches—what a strange physical response. Of course, I knew a formal, and very public, proposal was going to happen. But it’s too soon. Isn’t it? I guess not, if that’s the plan.

Not when the wedding ceremony has to happen before the end of summer. It’s mid-May and before the end of August we’ll be husband and wife. Holy shit.

Blake eyes me up and down. “You are ready to be engaged, aren’t you?”

“Sure.” I squirm in my seat. “Can we just keep it quiet for a little bit longer? I still need to tell my sisters we’re dating, then I can surprise them with the news of our engagement.”

“Fine. But I won’t keep quiet about it for too long,” he grumbles.

“Fair enough.” Picking up my phone, I start to type out a response to my sisters’ group chat, then delete it and start again—and again. Frustrated, I finally send a text saying I’m fine and we’ll talk later, then drop my cell into my purse. I’ll tell them everything after this weekend.

“Hello, beautiful, are you here by yourself?” The guy sitting at the bar slides one seat closer to me and smiles. He’s about my age, with tousled brown hair and a suit that’s a bit too large in the shoulders.

I grin back at him. “For the moment.”

“Then let me buy you a drink.”

“Sure. I’ll have a lemon drop, please.” I toss my hair over my shoulder. Blake’s not here yet, he sent me off to the salon shortly after we arrived and now I’m waiting for him to finish up work and come down for dinner. In the meantime, I can entertain myself with this very nice looking guy—a little flirting never hurt anybody. Or maybe it’s simply that old habits die hard.

“Coming right up, beautiful.” He flags the bartender and orders our drinks, then gives me his full attention. “Are you here with family, or is it a girl’s weekend?”

“I’m here with a friend. How about you?”

“Bachelor party. We’ve got one of the big suites. You should come up, bring your friend if you want.” He appreciatively takes me in, his gaze pauses at my cleavage before sliding down to my hips.

I clear my throat, bringing his eyes back up to mine. Why are men so predictable? “If you’re at a bachelor party, then why are you hanging out at the resort bar?”

“Just looking for some classy ladies to join us upstairs, if you know what I mean.”

That gives me pause. It probably shouldn’t, they’re just some guys looking to have a good time. But a slithering sensation coasts across my skin and I shiver.

“Well, I’m sorry but I’m busy tonight.” My lemon drop arrives, and I sip it.

He shoots me a charming smile and takes a swig of his beer. “Are you sure? It’s going to be loads of fun. The groom’s super rich so there’ll be endless booze, even champagne, food and dancing and some games. You’ll have an unforgettable night. I promise.” He winks at me. The expression gives me the ick.

“I really can’t. Sorry.”

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