Page 116 of The Faking Game

A few people are looking at us with interest. It’s not every day people engage in this kind of public display of affection.

And it’s never been me.

But here I am, the other half of a couple. Even if it’s just a fake one.

I dig my teeth into my lower lip. “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask anymore.”

“It still feels right. I don’t want to?—”

“If you’re going to say take advantage,” West says, “after I just saw you in nothing but lingerie in front of a crew of twenty people, knowing you were uncomfortable, I might break apart.”

“That bothered you?”

His jaw works. “Yes.”

“I’m used to it. And I’m going to turn down more shoots.” Once I gather the courage to tell my mother, brother and agent that my modeling is fully over and done with.

“Good,” he says. “You do what you want, trouble.”

“What did you think? It was their collection. The lingerie.” I brush my hand into his thick hair, and it helps ground me against the flood of excited nerves.

West’s teeth grind together. “Nora…”

“I never know when your compliments are real and when they’re part of the game we’re playing,” I say. “But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I want to hear it anyway. Maybe I want to pretend I’m an adored girlfriend tonight.”

His hands come to fit around my waist, and the tenseness in him could be shattered with a single blow. “You looked fucking incredible. Is that what you want to hear? You know you’re beautiful. But it broke my brain, sweetheart, to see you in nothing but that lace. To know how easy it would be to slip it to the side…”

“Oh.”

“Too much?”

I shake my head, and his lips curve into a dark smile.

“You’re brave tonight. And if you want to be adored, well… I’d adore you. Tell you how pretty you looked, how perfect, in lingerie that no other man but me should see. You had a little pearl hanging between your tits. Did you notice that? Because I did.”

“Yes. It’s part of… of their signature look.” I feel hot beneath the dress again. “What would you do? If we didn’t have an audience.”

Something glitters in his eyes. A question and delight, and he knows exactly where I’m going with this. “I’d keep you on that couch. Ban the others from the room. I told you, I don’t like others watching when I make a woman come.”

“And you’d make me come.”

“I’d ask you to show me how you touch yourself first. Tell you how pretty you look, how good you’re doing, how well you’re pleasing me.” He bends closer, brushes his lips along mine. “You liked the suction on that vibrator, didn’t you?”

“You know I did.”

“I could do that.”

There’s a throbbing between my legs. “Do you mean…”

“I do mean, yes.”

It’s hard to breathe. Hard to focus. His lips brush over my temple. “That’s what I’d do with you on that couch. Worship you the way you deserve to be.”

“I… I…”

“Too much this time?”

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