Page 86 of Not Fooling Anyone

“Text me when you get home.”

She pauses while opening her car door. “What?”

“So I know you made it home okay. It’s late.”

She stares at me for a beat longer. “I’ve driven home this time of night from the bar a million times.”

“Lexie, I just want to know you’re safe.”

Hesitantly, she says, “Sorry, I’ve never had anyone ask me that before.”

There’s a dull ache in my chest, but I push it aside. “Well, if you’re going to be hanging around me, you should get used to it.”

“I’m starting to see that,” she murmurs before getting in her car.

I watch as she backs out of the driveway, staying there until she’s out of sight down the street, then return inside. Damn, I never took my nighttime insulin shot, did I? I set that alarm on my phone last night since I knew I’d be out of the house, but I didn’t bother tonight. I figured I could just excuse myself to the bathroom at some point. Maybe I should start setting an alarm every night to remind me.

I gather my things and finally give myself my shot and brush my teeth, stripping off my shirt and shorts once I’m back in my room. I slide under the covers, the tiredness from before gone after such a long nap.

God, what a missed opportunity tonight. I’d had her right there, laying on the couch with me, her backside pressed snugly against my front, and all I could do was fall asleep. What must have Tyler thought seeing us both sleeping after the movie was over?

Well, considering he never questioned why I invited her over to begin with, he probably didn’t think much of it at all. As far as he knows, she’s still my fake girlfriend at school.

I guess that part is the same, though. We’re not actually anything more.

Even if I want to be.

If I’d responded to her touch before Tom and Sean came home and interrupted, would she have let me touch her, too?

I barely got to explore her body last night. I’m still dying to fully undress her, to take my time learning every curve with my hands, my lips, my tongue. To peel off that hoodie she always wears, slipping off her clothes to squeeze her, taste her, make her moan for me.

I groan at the thought, my dick rising, confined within my boxers. I reach in, gripping myself tight, and stroke up and down as I imagine what I could have done to her on the couch tonight.

Sinking into her from behind as I play with her clit. Positioning her atop me so she rides me enthusiastically. Rolling over to pump madly into her. Sitting her up, legs spread so I could feast on her again, drinking her down.

My strokes speed up, picturing her in all those ways, the remembered scent of her still in my nose, the feel of her lips under mine. Does she have any idea how much I want her?

And not only her body, but her thoughts, her secrets, everything about her. I want to know her inside and out, more than anyone else. I want to be the one she trusts, the one she confides in, the one she turns to. I want her to be mine, just like I’m already hers. I’m gone for her.

A tingle races down my spine, imagining the way it’ll be between us the first time, moving inside her, her body wrapped around mine.

I whip off the covers, overheated, pumping my fist over my cock, wishing it was her doing it. Wishing she was here with me.

I groan into the pillow as I come, the sound muffled, not wanting anyone in the house to hear how desperate I am at the thought of being hers.

Grabbing a tissue off the nightstand to clean up, I nearly knock off the extra syringe and glucose pills I keep there, making sure it’s all back in place before I relax against the pillows, eager for it to be Tuesday already when I see her in class.

Will she text me before then to meet up? What are the chances she’ll reach out? I can’t chase her forever. At some point, she has to show me she wants more with me, too.

But is that realistic to expect? Or just another fantasy?

CHAPTERTWENTY

LEXIE

There’sa knock on my bedroom door, Travis poking his head in when I tell him to come in.

“I still can’t get over how crazy you look.” He grins at me, taking in my bartending bustier and heavy makeup. “The clothes, the hair, the makeup. It’s like you’re a different person.”

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