Page 30 of Fauxmance in the City

His arm bumps my waist, every cell igniting where his skin touches me. My toothbrush hangs from my mouth, and I’m frozen in place.

“If you want to be kissed, I can kiss you.” He tilts his head forward, his lips hot against my ear. My toothbrush clatters to the sink. I spit out the toothpaste and wipe my lips with the back of my hand, trying to scramble back onto the ledge I’m falling off.

“Not a chance.” I mean for it to be forceful, but it comes out wobbly.

“Don’t ruin everything for that guy.” His breath is feathery on my earlobe, and I shiver.

I don’t know if he means ruin our careers or ruin us, but I don’t have time to think before he spins me toward him, my knees, hips, and chest banging against his mostly bare body. Resisting Sam was easy when the temptation was kept at bay, but playing this intimate role has broken the barriers we had in place, and my willpower has crumbled.

Case in point number one: the elevator.

Case in point number two: the laundry room jerk off.

Case in point number three: TBD.

“Maybe I like Max,” I whisper. It’s a last-ditch effort to drive Sam away.

He releases my hips, and I stumble sideways. He snatches the mouthwash and spins the top off, takes a swig, and spits it out.

I exhale, hoping we’ve moved on and I can put my attention back on our big day tomorrow. I still have no solution for the clusterfuck that is the wrecked desserts and damaged main dish.

Sam has other ideas.

“You can’t be with him, baby. Ever.” He roughly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and goes into the bedroom.

I follow him, my hands on my hips, my temperature hot. “Don’t call me baby.”

Sam paces the room, his features rigid. He’s obviously not gonna drop this. If he wants to play, I’ll play.

“What if I want to go there?” I say, plastering on a saccharine smile. “I’m not a nun. But living this public lie means men have been off-limits mostly. A girl has needs.”

“He’s Gillian Kennedy’s nephew. You can’t date him. You can’t fuck him. You can’t do anything with him!”

The fierceness of his vitriol sends a shudder down my spine. I have no interest in Max, but Sam’s fury raises my hackles, and I can’t help but fight back. I’ve been fighting with him for four years.

“I can date him when this is over,” I say, turning the wrench to see how Sam will react. “Once I trust him I can—”

“No.” Sam huffs through flared nostrils. “If you’re that hard up, we can fuck right now. I know you want it. I smelled your wetness when I fucked your hand.”

A rush of heat covers my skin like a rash, and I’m stunned and turned on all at once.

“I’m not hard up. You are.” I mean for it to be harsh, but my voice comes out in a squeak, childish. “There’s lotion in the bathroom if you want to get off, but don’t expect me to do the work for you again.”

“Why are being such a bitch, Catie?” His sharp words are wrapped in pain, and there’s hurt in his eyes.

I shrug. “Because you’re being a dick.”

Sam glares at me, his pupils dilate until there’s only a ring of blue. A vein ticks in his forehead, thoughts I can’t read running across his face. A sound rumbles in his chest, then he walks to the bathroom and marches back with a travel-size bottle of KY.

“Have it your way.” He pops the top open. “Are you going to watch?”

“You travel with that?” I ask, delaying for time.

“You never know when you’re gonna need it.” He smirks.

Heat shoots up my neck. Sam isn’t playing by the old rules. He’s pushing me, and I’m not sure there’ll be a safety net when I fall.

I grind my teeth together, regrouping. He could be bluffing.

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