Page 22 of Faking the Shot
“Maybe,” she says with a shrug, her eyes sparkling with that same maddening confidence. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
I want to be annoyed, really I do. But instead, all I feel is . . . intrigued. Challenged, even. It’s been a long time since someone’s gotten under my skin in a way that didn’t just irritate me but also made me better. She doesn’t bark orders or demand compliance; she just steps in like it’s second nature, a quiet force pushing me forward.
It’s not the usual:do this and figure it out.With her, it’s:we’re doing this together, and we’re going to make it happen.
I watch her brush a stray lock of hair out of her face, her cheeks slightly flushed from the effort. She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow, daring me to say something. Instead, I just shake my head and look away, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
As much as I hate to admit it, this little arrangement with Valentina might just be the most fun I’ve had in years. And maybe—just maybe—I don’t mind it as much as I pretend to.
Chapter Ten
Valentina
When Kaden Crawford Invades Your Subconscious
The incessant ringing of my alarm clock seeps into my dream, dragging me from the depths of something sinful and delicious. Kaden Crawford. That intense gaze of his. His stupidly sexy mouth.
It’s no surprise that I wake up breathless, my hand fumbling around for my clothes like they’re missing. In my dream, I was naked—completely bare in a massive bed that seemed to stretch for miles. And Kaden? He was between my legs, his head buried, his tongue moving like a man starved.
“Good girl,” he’d murmured, his deep, gravelly voice vibrating against my sensitive flesh, making me moan louder, my back arching off the bed. His hands gripped my thighs, keeping me wide open for him, as his tongue worked its magic, licking, sucking, devouring.
The way he flicked his tongue, slow and teasing, had me writhing, begging, desperate for more. My body trembled, pleasure pooling low in my belly as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge.
I swear I can still feel the heat of his breath and the slick wetness of his tongue as I wake up, my pussy embarrassingly soaked, aching, and ready for more.
I groan and roll my eyes, slamming my hand against the alarm clock like it personally offended me. The shrill beeping cuts off mid-wail, but the damage is already done—my peaceful morning is ruined. Not because I had a sex dream. Oh no, that’s not the problem. The real issue?
It was about him.
Kaden Fucking Crawford.
My jaw tightens as I lie there, staring at the ceiling fan lazily spinning above me, like the universe itself is mocking me. I don’t need this kind of bullshit from my subconscious. Not today. Not ever.
“Seriously, universe, take a damn breather,” I mutter under my breath, shoving off the covers with more force than necessary. My skin tingles, remnants of the dream lingering in ways I’d rather not admit. It wasn’t just the usual frustrating banter and smirks that make me want to throttle him—it was . . .more. The way his hands gripped my waist, the rough timbre of his voice, the searing heat in his gaze. Damn it.
My chest heaves as I suck in a deep breath, trying to exorcise the memory. No dice. My body is a traitor, responding to phantom sensations I can’t shake. I shift uncomfortably, the ache between my thighs impossible to ignore.
My eyes flick to the nightstand. The rabbit vibrator sits there, half-hidden under a paperback romance novel I abandoned weeks ago. My lips press into a thin line as I reach for it, hesitation battling with the persistent pulse of need.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, pulling the vibrator free and tossing the book aside. The soft hum of the device fills the room as I slide my panties down, kicking them off to some corner of the room. My body reacts instantly, warmth spreading through me as I guide the toy lower, the first pulse of vibration making my breath hitch.
My free hand drifts to my chest, fingers kneading the curve of my breast, teasing a hardened peak through the thin fabric of my camisole. My head falls back against the pillow, a low moan escaping my lips as I give in. Each thrust of the vibrator pulls me deeper into the haze, and my traitorous mind paints a vivid picture of him—his rough hands, his mouth, his infuriating smirk. It’s primal and maddening, this need that burns hotter with every second.
I bite my lip, the pressure building, my body taut as a bowstring. A fractured cry breaks free as I crest, the intense release leaving me breathless and boneless, sprawled across the bed.
That’s when I hear it—a low, persistent buzzing. Not the vibrator. My phone, vibrating like it’s got somewhere better to be, rattling against the floor like it’s trying to drill a hole to freedom. I squint at the nightstand, noticing the empty spotwhere it should be. Figures. Even my phone can’t be bothered to stay put.
Groaning, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet meet the icy hardwood as I shuffle around, feeling blindly until my fingers close around the damn thing. I grab it and glance at the screen.
Jacob.
Great. Nothing says “good morning” like a call from Kaden Fucking Crawford’s agent—who also happens to be my brother-in-law. I wonder if he’s calling me from the dining room, but by the look at the time he’s already in his office trying to fix something.
I swear, only my sister can keep up with him. She’s like a saint in steroids.
Dragging myself upright, I swipe to answer but hesitate, my stomach already tying itself into a neat little pretzel. Last night, after I realized that Kaden could go full asshole-mode at any time, I might’ve made a Google alert for anything remotely related to him. Just a precaution, I told myself. And now?
More than a hundred notifications.
