Page 57 of The Pretender

“Shut up.” She sits down on the bed and hands me the remote to her camera, which is set up on the tripod. We opted not to let Brick film this one since it would be difficult for the two of us to relax enough to kiss. Clearly, that was a good decision.

“Let’s just do it really quick.”

She leans in and purses her lips like a kid would do, all while squeezing her eyes shut as if it’s painful to get this close to me.

“You’re going to have to kiss me,” I tell her. “Sitting here acting like you’re about to vomit is just slowing us down.” I blew off a night of poker at Gigi’s for this. Not that I expected a big payout, but it’s extra money, nonetheless.

Vee throws her head back, her dark, satin hair falling off her shoulders like a curtain. “Gah! I wish we could find some stock videos to insert into this clip.”

I don’t let her lack of excitement dampen my mood. Really, just seeing her suffer perks me up more than shoving my tongue down her throat again. The last time I was too pissed to enjoy her discomfort.

“Such a shame, but the last time I checked, the angry tomboy clips were all sold out.” I shrug, back to being a shit. “They probably make around one a year. I think that look died in the 90’s.”

“I will stab you,” she threatens, easing her head up and leveling me with a look that I think might be a real threat.

“I hope you’ll at least film it when you do. My mother would like to be proud of me one day, even if it’s just seeing my corpse on Dateline.”

My cheek twitches as my comment hits a little too close to the truth.

“You’re sick,” she says, twisting her hair up and piling it on top of her head before letting it go. “Why is it so hot in here?” she groans.

I refrain from stating the obvious cliché. I think she might actually hit me, and I get turned on by a slap just as much as the next man but not today. I’d rather we get this torture over with quickly so she can take her sweet-smelling self next door and give me some damn space. Being with her every day this past week has not been the highlight of my college experience. I mean, sure, she’s hot, but she’s argumentative and the enemy. I haven’t forgotten that part.

“We could open a window,” I suggest for the both of us. It’ll keep my room from smelling like her. It probably won’t cool her down with the high humidity, but the breeze might help a little.

She eyes my window, where I watch her seven days out of the week, and tips her chin. “Fine. It’s gotta be better than sweating my butt off while we do this.”

She gags once more and I roll my eyes. Really. She’s not that great of an actress. She’s not disgusted by me. I know because we’ve kissed before, and she was the one who initiated it.

I get up and go to the window and push it up halfway, before walking back to the bed and flopping down next to her.

I nod to the remote in her hand. “No more bullshit. Let’s get this over with.”

With an extreme sigh that our other neighbors can probably hear, Vee nods and presses the record button. I almost forget what I’m supposed to do, but then she leans forward and her hand comes to my cheek.

I don’t know if it’s instinct, lust, or plain old want, but my hand goes to the back of her head, my fingers knotting in her soft tresses, and I yank. She yips but doesn’t speak. Last time we did this, she surprised me by pressing her lips to mine. This time, I’m the one in charge.

I angle her head back, admiring the smooth, tanned skin at her jaw. Unlike that night, her face is bare of any makeup and her lips glisten with a gloss I plan on smearing all over her face. Wrapping my hand around her neck, I pull her down, nuzzling under her ear, and inhaling the scent of something floral. I nudge the soft skin at her hairline before I nip the bottom of her ear with my teeth.

Her hands go to my shoulders. Whether they are holding me to her or pushing me away, I’ll never know, because I pull her close and press my lips to hers. Unlike the first time, our lips don’t come together softly. My lips meet hers, hard and unyielding. Our teeth clash and her hands grip the sides of my face. She’s trying to control the kiss, but she forgets one thing.

She didn’t surprise me this time.

She isn’t getting that Sebastian. She’s getting the real me. The me who wants to consume herandhate her.

I grunt when she bites my bottom lip, but with one tug of her hair and a small whimper from her compliant little body, I’m back in control, slipping my tongue into the warmth of the mouth that has lied, deceived, and made me horny, all in the span of half an hour.

My tongue eases in and out, exploring every inch of her mouth. For a moment, I forget we’re on camera or that we’re supposed to be just filming a sweet kiss, not an intro into a porno, but there’s no way I can stop. We’ll just have to redo the shot later.

Like when we get ourselves together and calm the fuck down.

“Sebastian,” she mumbles, when I move to her neck, kissing down the side. “I think we got the shot.”

Fuck. I think I’m addicted. “One more, just in case,” I say, breathily and slightly growly.

“Okay,” she agrees.

And this moment right here is where we went wrong. Again. For the second time in our relationship.

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