Page 18 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
My blood rushes south, and I resist again, the urge to touch her or kiss her. And then, to my surprise, she leans in and kisses me on the lips.
I stiffen for a second, but soon, the feathery touch undoes me. I groan and kiss her back, grazing her lips first and then sucking them. Vivian whimpers as she clutches my hair with both hands and climbs onto my lap. Soon we’re lying on the sand, with her on top of me, our mouths still attached. God. My hands roam over her skin greedily. The ocean and the sky fade from my vision, and all I see is her beautiful eyes. My manhood swells and presses into her belly, and I dry hump her. She doesn’t resist. Instead, she grinds me back. Holy fuck. When was the last time I made out at the beach?
People’s laughter brings me back to my senses. Christ. It’s a private beach but it’s also open to resort guests.
We pull away abruptly. “I’m sorry. Vivian, I don’t know what got into me.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says. “I started it. Besides, it’s a, err, good practice.”
I chuckle and stand up, pulling her with me. I whistle and call Charlie to us.
“We could do this again in the future,” I say to Vivian as we’re back in the trail. “Come next summer. You’ll always be welcomed as my mom said.”
She pauses for a moment. “Your parents wouldn’t mind we broke up?”
Damn. I forgot that. It’s a pretense. I curse. Suddenly, I don’t want us to “break up.” But is it even possible?
Chapter 9
Vivian
When Karen suggested shopping, I had the usual shopping malls in mind. Thus when Jack stops the car on Coast Village Rd, in front of a small boutique, I’m a bit surprised.
The shop assistant, a tall woman in her thirties, obviously knows Karen well. “Good morning, Mrs. Anderson! How may I help you?”
“Hi Elaine,” Karen says to the smiling woman. “Meet my future daughter-in-law Vivian.”
This is the second time I’m addressed by the term, and I still can’t help blushing. Jeez. Alex’s mom is taking me seriously. Guilt gnaws at my insides as I force a smile and say hi to Elaine, who raises her eyebrows and flashes her teeth at me, not without a hint of envy.
Although small, the boutique has an impressive selection of high-end fashion brands from Gucci to Valentino. Even the sale items are over a thousand. I’m delighted like a five-year-old at a carnival. Everything looks good to me. I rummage through the racks of beautiful clothes and pause in front of every mannequin. Being a fashion major, I understand designer clothes are worth the money because of their high quality and unique styles. Still, being a recent college graduate, who’s entered a despicable scam to earn dollars for grad school, I cringe at the price tags. I remind myself that luxury brands charge way more than the material and the labor because they’re made for celebrities who dress to impress, so I should just settle for window shopping. But on the other hand, I’ll have to dress to impress at the party tomorrow. Although I feel sorry that Karen must spend money on her imposter future daughter-in-law, the least I can do is to be presentable so she can show me off.
I’m struggling with my dilemma when Elaine comes to me, holding a few dresses in hand. “These are new arrivals. Would you like to try them on?”
She displays the dresses one by one to me, explaining the materials and designs. Most of them are so glamorous they fit for Oscar attendees. Seeing her eagerness to help, I select two short pieces that look the least formal to me: A rose gold, strapless, knee-length, sequined mini dress from Dolce & Gabbana and an elegant Tom Ford midi dress with white lace and spaghetti straps.
Karen gasps each time when I step out of the fitting room, saying I look beautiful. When I have trouble deciding which one to pick, she tells Elaine to ring up both. I panic when I realize the two pieces together would cost nearly five grand, the amount of money I signed up for the fake-date mission.
“Actually, I like this one better,” I say to Karen, waving the DG.
“Are you sure, darling?” Karen asks.
“Yes.” I nod firmly.
“All right, then.” She smiles approvingly. “It is a cute dress.”
While Elaine takes the dress from my hand, she asks Karen, “Would you like to look at the shoes, too?”
“Of course,” Karen says. “And I would like to get a dress for myself.”
While Karen takes her time to find her dress, I browse the shoe selection and pick a pair of gold-leather Gucci high block heel sandals that match the sparkling dress.
An hour later, Karen comes out of the fitting room in a royal blue Prada midi dress.
“Wow,” I say, “You look magnificent!”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” she says. “But I don’t like the high neckline. It looks stiff.”
I agree.
