Page 20 of Faking the Shot
She rolls her eyes. “Believe me, I’m not a fan of the idea either, but it makes sense. If people are going to believe we’re together, we need to actually be seen together. Restaurants, events, casual outings. The works. A relationship doesn’t stay secret when it’s real, Kaden.”
“Great, so I get to hang out with you while pretending we’re madly in love? That sounds fucking amazing,” I mutter, pretending is a burden. It’s not like I don’t want to, I’m afraid of what can happen if I’m with her alone for too long.
“Hey, I’m not thrilled about giving up my life to follow you around either. But if you’d like to keep your sponsors and your reputation—whatever’s left of it—you’ll deal with it,” she retorts.
“Sounds a lot like you’re getting the better end of this deal.”
Her lips quirk up in a smirk. “Oh, absolutely. I’m thrilled to be spending my days tied to a grumpy man-child. Truly, it’s a dream come true.”
I glare at her, but she just raises an eyebrow like she’s daring me to argue. I grind my teeth for a second before throwing my fork onto the plate with a loud clatter. “Fine. Whatever.”
Her grin widens like she’s won the fucking lottery. “See? This wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
That’s when I notice the smudge of chocolate frosting at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got cake on your face,” I huff, gesturing vaguely.
Her eyes widen, and she fumbles for her napkin. “Oh no, really? Where?”
“Left side,” I say, watching as she dabs at her cheek. Her brows knit together in concentration, her frantic movements only making it worse.
“Did I get it?” she asks, looking at me expectantly.
“Missed it,” I mutter, shaking my head. She tries again, smearing the frosting even further.
I sigh, leaning forward before I can stop myself. “Here. Let me.”
Her eyes widen slightly as I reach out, my thumb brushing her cheek. Her skin is soft, warm, and for a moment, the air between us shifts. My touch lingers a second too long, and I swear I hear the faint hitch of her breath.
Then my mind derails, spiraling into dangerous territory. The thought sneaks in, unbidden: what if she licked my finger? Took it into her mouth, her tongue warm and slow as she cleaned it. Those lips of hers, soft and defiant, wrapping around me with that little smirk she always wears.
Fuck.
I almost ask her to do it—to watch her lips close around me, to call her my good girl and see how she reacts. But that’s not where it ends. No, my thoughts spiral deeper, darker.
I picture her spread out on this very table, her tits smeared with chocolate, her body mine to devour. Her legs open wide, her pussy slick and inviting as I paint her with frosting, only to replace every trace of sweetness with my tongue. Her breathless moans would echo in my ears, her fingers gripping my hair as I tasted every inch of her, the chocolate nothing compared to the way she’d come undone beneath me.
Or maybe it’s my cock I’d coat with that frosting, thick and aching as I slide it between her lips, watching as she takes me deep, deeper, all the way until she chokes on it. Until her mascara runs and she looks up at me with a filthy smile, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks harder. Then I’d come, spilling into her mouth, making her swallow every last drop, turning her into my dirty slut. Mine. Completely and utterly mine.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I force myself to pull my hand back, shoving the thoughts away as hard as I can. The last thing I need is for my publicist—and fake girlfriend, for fuck’s sake—to know what I want to do to her. To know how badly I want to ruin her in every possible way.
“Got it,” I say, my voice low, rough around the edges, as if I haven’t just had the filthiest fantasies of my life in the span of ten seconds.
She blinks, her lips parting slightly like she’s about to say something, but the words don’t come. Her cheeks flush, a softpink spreading across her skin, and I feel a sharp pang of smug satisfaction.
She’s not unaffected.
Good.
But fuck if that doesn’t make me want her even more.
“See?” I add, leaning back in my chair. “Not so hard.”
She swallows, regaining her composure with a small shake of her head. “Well, aren’t you just my knight in shining armor?”
“Don’t get used to it,” I grumble, grabbing my water and focusing on the glass as if it holds the secrets of the universe. Anything to avoid looking directly at her. My thumb still tingles where it touched her.
I hate that I’m still thinking about it.
