Page 31 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

“Oh.”Oh.My dick is straight-up aching right now. And I mean straight-up. It’s going to punch through my zipper and blow this pair of jeans apart if I keep going at this rate. Hearing Weland describe these things, even if they’re just fake, makes the rest of me feel like I might explode.

“We were going to try those things for real anyway,” she whispers, studying her coffee intently. “We’ll just be speeding it up a little bit.”

“What if they see us not doing it right?”

“We’ll just have to fake it until we make it. If we find it’s just not right, and we have zero chemistry, then we’ll close the blinds back up and just do awkward fumbling and fake kissing, but they won’t be able to tell the difference because shadows are tricky.”

My insides are flipping out, and my outsides are flipping, uh, in…and everything feels like it’s been turned upside down. I find myself smiling like a moron. I shouldn’t be smiling right now. Not this big. And certainly not this enthusiastically. I shouldn’t really be on board with this plan. Not like this. It’s too much. I need to dial it back. I need to get a grip on myself, but it’s hard when Weland is so…electric. She’s electrifying too. I can easily see why her students love her so much. She’s not just a great teacher. She makes everything look and sound fun.

“And when should we…uh…commence this plan?” I ask.

“You need to call Smitty and explain what we’re doing, or if you’re not comfortable with that, then you need to tell him to give this guy coffee and bathroom breaks. It’s horrifying to think where he’s going right now.”

“He probably doesn’t eat or drink, so he doesn’t have to. I doubt guys like him are into wearing an adult diaper so that they don’t have to leave their post or pee into a bottle.”

“Oh lord. Okay, none of that is healthy. This guy definitely needs breaks, even if we aren’t in here plotting. A second security person to relieve him is in order going forward.”

I nod. “I’ll let Smitty know.”

“So we’re going to do this? This plan?”

I didn’t know nipples getting hard were a thing for guys, but mine are starting to poke through my T-shirt. “I think you’re right. It’s the last thing they’d expect.”

“And I guess we’ll find out if we’re…uh…um…” Watching her blush even brighter pink is the most adorable, hottest thing I have ever seen. Every time she does it, which is a lot, it makes my junkage feel like it’s going to turn into grapefruits and goblammo. I shift uncomfortably, making room in the no-room space in my jeans. I also look away because nut explodage is not cool.

“Compatible?” I finish for her while trying to find the answers in my nearly empty cup of coffee.

“Yes, compatible. That’s a good word. A very good word.” She pauses for a minute. “I have a few lessons this afternoon, but we can start figuring it out after that. Like when we’re making dinner or something. Or after. And we can plan on you not sleeping on the couch starting tonight. Either you sleep in my bed, or I stuff a bunch of pillows in there, pull up the covers, and secretly make a bed for you in the basement.” I shudder at the thought of the basement. It’s enough of a punishment to be down there while she’s giving lessons so that I don’t interrupt or confuse her students. “Never mind. The basement is horrible.” She says it. Not me. “You’re sleeping in my bed with me tonight.” She swallows bravely before she slays me even harder. “We’ll find a way to make it work.”

She doesn’t mean it literally, but now I can’t stop thinking about naked Weland, warm and snuggly and soft, lovingly pressed up against me, or me draped around her as we hold each other all night.

I think about more than that too, but it’s not gentlemanly to elaborate on it.

And I know that whichever way this pans out, I’m very likely screwed.

Chapter sixteen

Weland

Iwanted to make something that would take a while for us to do together. Something that felt a little bit romantic. What would my long-lost secret husband, whom I hardly ever get to see, like to eat if he came over to my house and spent a hypothetical week with me?

Probably not anything with garlic and onions.

And absolutely not liver. Shudder.

Steak is likely because doesn’t everyone like steak? But I don’t have a barbeque, and throwing it in a hot frying pan for a couple of minutes doesn’t seem all that romantic. Part of the show is to leave those cracks in the vertical blinds at the patio door that leads out to the world’s smallest yard with the shakiest fence, and you know…get it on.

I thought all day about what I could make. I didn’t want to have to run out for groceries and chance getting followed by the trio from hell. The last thing I wanted was another round of twenty fucking questions with them.

After a quick search of the fridge and pantry, I eventually decided on a stir fry. It’ll be missing some of the key ingredients, but I do have rice, chicken, peppers, carrots, corn, a can of water chestnuts, and a bottle of amazing teriyaki sauce.

My knife nearly slips off the carrot and goes through my finger when a loud clang comes from outside. “Gah! What the heck was that?” I didn’t think the cousins would try and break into the house. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Sterling instantly has this guilty-as-all-heck look on his face, but he grins at me. And since he’s not panicking, I slowly set the knife down and turn to him. Crossing my arms, I wait for him to explain why it sounds like half the house is going to be torn away.

“It’s hot out,” he states.

“Yeah, I did get that. Unbearably so.”

---