Page 63 of The Fake Husband Play
It’s the sleep of a girl who knows she’s safe. Protected.
Loved.
And with sudden clarity, I realize I deserve to feel all those things, too. And that Grammercy makes me feel them, every single one.
All the way down the hall, through the great room, and down the shorter hallway to his bedroom, that’s all I can think about. That Grammercy makes me feel loved, even though it’s way too damned soon. Even though we barely know each other. Even though we had our first real, honest-to-goodness kiss tonight.
I remind myself of all that as I step through the open door to find him sitting on the padded storage bench atthe base of his bed, the worry creases on his forehead visible in the soft light from the lamp in the corner.
As soon as I close the door behind me and lean back against it, they smooth, but the concern remains in his eyes as he whispers, “I was afraid you weren’t going to come. That you’d decide we’re moving too fast.”
My brows slide up. “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “Maybe I should, but you feel so familiar, El. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I just…knew. I knew I was going to know you, that Ihadto know you or I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”
My chest goes tight. “I felt the same way. But you were a hockey player on a tiny screen I watched in my sad little apartment, and I…” I pull in a breath. “I don’t want you to think this is aboutthat. I want you to know that I see you. The real you.” I will him to hear the truth in my voice as I add, “And even if you had the most boring job in the world and we lived in my tiny apartment full of rats and never had money to go out to fancy jazz clubs, I would still be so honored to be your girl.”
“No way,” he says, rising to walk slowly across the room, making me blink faster. “I wouldn’t care what I had to do—work doubles for a month, sell popcorn at ball games at night, pimp myself out on Bourbon Street—my girls are never sleeping in a place with rodents in the walls again.”
I laugh even as my eyes fill with unexpected tears.
Brow furrowing again, he lifts his hand, skimming his knuckles gently across my cheekbones. “I was just teasing. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him with a sniff. “I just…I like being one of your girls. Mimi does, too. She thinks you’re so cool.”
“I feel the same way,” he says, adding before I can think to ask, “and nothing is going to change that, Elly. No matter what happens between us, I’ll always be her buddy, as long as that’s okay with you.”
“It’s very okay with me,” I whisper, reaching out to curl my fingers into the gorgeous black button-down shirt I’ve already rumpled, slowly drawing him close. “But you know what I’m not okay with?”
“What?” he murmurs, bracing his hands on either side of the door, bringing his lips deliciously close to mine.
“No man of mine is going to pimp his body out on Bourbon Street,” I whisper. “I’d sell an organ first. Deal?”
“Deal.” He nods, his lips curving as he bends close. “And pretty fucking excited to be your man, Eloise. Now turn around, baby, and let me kiss this gorgeous back I’ve been dreaming about getting my mouth on all night.”
Holding his gaze, I turn, slow and teasing, knowing we don’t have to rush. We have all night.
“Really?” I draw my hair over my shoulder, ensuring there’s nothing in his way. “All night?”
“Since the second I saw that drunk fucker getting way too close to you,” he confirms, his fingers tracing the hollow of my spine, making me shiver. “First thought—I’m going to smash that guy’s face in. Second thought—God, her body in that dress. But I’d like to get you out of it now, if that’s okay.”
“More than okay,” I whisper as he leans in. My eyes slide closed as his warm lips kiss the back of my neck, thenbetween my shoulders, even as he guides my dress down in the front. Silky fabric skims over my tight nipples, making me shudder. Then, his tongue is laving a searing trail lower, lower, baring every piece of me while he makes me burn. By the time my dress puddles at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my high heels and tiny satin panties, I’m shaking.
“Turn around,chère,” he murmurs, cursing as I turn, my breath already coming fast. Something that almost looks like pain flashes across his handsome face. “Look at you. Look how perfect you are.”
“Not perfect,” I whisper, though I feel pretty perfect right now, seeing myself reflected in the heat of this gorgeous man’s eyes.
And who knows? Maybe he likes tiny silver stretch marks and women who haven’t done a sit-up in way too long.
“Perfect,” he insists. Then, he drops to his knees in front of me, and my brain short-circuits. “Except for one thing.” He curls his fingers over the top of my panties on either side. “These need to go.”
“Agreed,” I whisper as he drags them down my thighs, holding my gaze the entire time. I step out of them, still in my heels, and from the first swipe of his tongue up the seam of me to my clit, I know that was a poor decision on my part.
No way am I going to be able to balance in stilettos while the man of my dreams devours my pussy.
Not an ice hockey rink’s chance in hell.
“Easy there, darlin’, let me help,” he says as I sway. He catches me, cupping my ass in both his big hands, lifting me into the air against the door.
