Page 2 of How To Fake A Fiancé

Finally, I spot her in the far corner of the bar. My chest tightens. She takes my breath away.

Wearing a short, tight red dress with teeny-tiny spaghetti-straps, she gives off the golden glow of a summer tan and oozes sex appeal. The garment emphasizes every curve, especially her voluptuous breasts. Suddenly, I’m dying to see this woman’s nipples. In killer black heels, her legs look long, slender, and sleek.

When I bounce my stare back up to her face, she smiles. Her red lips scream “fuck me.”

Oh, sweetheart, I plan to…

In fact, I’m flooded with visions of sliding my tongue, fingers, and dick inside that impossibly sinful mouth.

A few feet from her, I clear my throat. “Excuse me. Are you That Sassy Latina?”

I cringe at having nothing to call her except her username.

“And you must be Ian B.34.”

“It’s just Ian.” I smile and hold out my hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too…Ian.” She grins, accepting my hand.

The moment her palm slides against mine, electricity sizzles through my veins. Our stares lock. Her hypnotic, dark eyes suck me in. All coherent thought—except sex—flies out the window. The already hard length between my legs turns to fucking steel.

I clear my throat and take a seat beside her. “You look gorgeous. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“No, not at all.” She crosses her sexy legs.

And ties my tongue.

“Great.” I nod toward the bar. “Have you ordered a drink?”

“Not yet.”

“Allow me,” I say, then grab the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have a martini,” she says as she digs in for her wallet.

“I’ve got it.” I hand the man behind the counter my credit card and order a beer, then turn back to my hookup for the night.

She looks surprised. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

Don’t guys do that anymore? Have I been out of the dating scene that long?

“I wanted to.” I’m a gentleman, not an asshole.

“I’m used to guys splitting the bill or having me pay.”

Seriously? Am I misinterpreting the situation? “I’m sorry. Did you want to pay for yourself?”

Maybe she has an independent thing.

“No. I appreciate it. It’s refreshing to find out nice guys still exist.”

“I apologize on behalf of today’s men. Sometimes we’re idiots.”

“So harsh on your own gender,” she teases.

“Am I wrong?”

She laughs. “No. Guys like you are few and far between.”

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