Page 58 of Counterfeit Boyfriend
On our way back to the table, we grabbed more drinks to go with the cake they’d set out.
“I wonder why Madison chose roses.” Gwen gestured toward the red-rose centerpieces I’d only vaguely noticed before she pointed them out. Come to think of it, the bouquet she’d tried to catch a few minutes ago matched. “They’re super pretty and all, but we had a conversation once about how everyone always equates roses with romance, which leaves other pretty flowers totally underutilized. Flowers I think would be more romantic. Personally, I like tulips. No thorns, just these sweet flowers that are the first to pop up and announce spring to the world. Like trumpets of awesomeness.”
“Personally, I like your lips,” I said—apparently drinking brought out my super cheesy side. Since she kissed me again, I decided to mark it as a win anyway. She tasted like cake, too, so double bonus.
The world grew hazy at the edges over the next several drinks and minutes, and then suddenly Gwen was standing and tugging me to my feet.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The photo booth! Finally there’s not a line anymore, and I want to take some goofy pictures in there with you. Capture this night in one of those cute film strips.”
The second the curtain to the booth closed, we went from a fancy event with a crowd to a cozy space with just the two of us. The same way it’d been on the trip here; the way I wanted it to be forever.
“Ready?” she asked, her finger hovering over the button.
“Ready.”
The first picture we pulled goofy faces. The next, I pressed my lips to hers. Everything I’d been holding back surged forward at once, the current so strong I was drowning in it, and more than that, I longed to go under. A disjointed voice in the depths of my mind whispered that I needed to stay in control, but I couldn’t remember why, and then I was pulling Gwen onto my lap and sliding my hands up her smooth thighs.
She rocked against me, and I groaned and kissed her again. Flashes went off. I wasn’t sure how many. Seconds blurred into minutes as one kiss bled into another.
“Wow, you’ve really got a hold of my ass there,” Gwen said.
Somewhere during the making out, I’d moved my hands to the ass I’d been obsessing over since the moment I laid eyes on her in this dress. “Sorry, I—”
“Don’t be sorry. I like it.” She bent over me, her curves pressing against my chest, and grabbedmyass. “Remember how we’re letting go for the night? Stop holding back.” She kissed me, rolling her tongue over mine, and my fingers dug into her ass, squeezing and kneading as I took control of the kiss. I notched her higher in my lap so that her damp heat lined up with my rock-hard cock.
Her moan left me completely undone, a man now driven solely by baser urges. A ragged groan ripped from my throat as I arched against her. She shuddered against me, and the last of my self-control snapped and unraveled at her feet.
The knock made both of us jump.
“Shit.”
“Oh, I didn’t know someone was in there,” came a muffled voice.
Gwen giggled, the sound coming out more as a snicker since she was trying to keep it quiet.
A regretful noise sounded in my throat as she climbed off me. We straightened our clothes and hair the best we could in the tiny space, and I knocked my elbow on the side.
“Ouch.” I was still rubbing it when we exited the booth, and Gwen grabbed my arm, lifted it, and kissed my elbow. Then she slid my arm over her shoulders. We took two steps away from the booth before she abruptly spun around. “Our pictures!”
She picked them out of the slot where they’d printed, and I studied them over her shoulder.
Us making a goofy face—Gwen won that one.
Us kissing—I won that one because I got to kiss Gwen.
And in the third… well, she’d said I really had a hold of her ass and now we had the photographic evidence.
I reached over her and yanked the strip from her fingers. “I’m keeping this. Hell, I’m hanging it on the fridge. Some people brag about their kids’ art; I want to brag about my girlfriend and her nice ass.”
The elderly couple passing by us widened their eyes.
“Sorry, Mrs. Miller,” Gwen said, a blush sweeping across her cheeks. Then she smacked my arm. “That was my second-grade teacher.”
“Don’t worry. I’m relatively sure she can’t give you detention anymore.”
She laughed and then her eyes met mine. An intoxicating cocktail of hunger and heat flickered through her multicolored irises, and I had to remind myself I couldn’t back her up against the nearest surface and have my wicked way with her. As our last interrupted session proved, there were too many people around for that.
I practically saw a lightbulb go off over her head before she leaned in and whispered, “I have an idea.”
“The lawyer in me is already going to advise this is a bad idea.”
“Counting those chicks a bit early, aren’t you?” She trailed her fingertips down my arm and then grabbed my hand. “You’re not a lawyer yet, so tell that buzzkill to shush up and come with me. Trust me, it’s averygood idea.” She slid her fingers between mine, and then I was useless to do anything but follow.
