Page 44 of Faking it with the Billionaire
She’s good.
His tongue darts out, and he swipes his lips before letting out a huff. “You call this guy talented?” He jabs a thumb in my direction. I can feel the insults brewing before he even releases the first one, and I bite down hard on my tongue, my jaw terse to keep from fighting back. That’s what he wants, isn’t it?
“Greyson is past his prime. And when he is dedicated on the ice, he’s too busy thinking about that rugrat at home. The kid is a distraction. I don’t get why the mother isn’t in the picture, raising the little imbecile like a mother should be, but it’s nice to see he has a girlfriend willing to do a mother’s bidding.”
“Excuse me?” Emerson drops my hand, folds her arms across her chest, and steps closer, coming face-to-face with him.
She’s a spitfire, my Em, and something about her boldness makes me hot and horny for her. Thankfully, my dick is managing its ability to stay in check.
“Do you not speak English? You’ve got a nice set of tits, but no one was talking to you,sweetheart.” Fitzgerald snorts disgracefully at Emerson. “Greyson, keep your woman in line.” His attention is on me, ignoring the brunette as if she no longer exists.
I pull my arm back to land a blow to Fitzy’s face when Noah and Owen jump in, each throwing an arm around my shoulder, keeping me from making a career-ending mistake.
“This nice set of tits,” Emerson says, stepping closer and leaning up to meet his beady stare, “belong to a woman with more class than you could ever have. I suggest you take a course or two on sexual harassment before you end up with a lawsuit on your hands. By the looks of it, you have plenty of money that could make this set of tits even better.” She smirks and turns, stepping on his foot with a grin. “You coming, Greyson?”
I’m dumbfounded and speechless by her remark, but my grin doesn’t seem to vanish. “You really stood up to that pompous ass.”
“Someone had to. I hope it won’t hurt your chances at a new contract for next year.” She bites down on her bottom lip. “Did I go too far?”
“You were perfect,” I whisper, leaning in and brushing her lips with a searing kiss. “I want to take you home.”
“In an hour. Do your mingling, and I’ll manage on my own for a bit.”
“You’re leaving me to deal with these vultures?” I’m shocked that she thinks she can disappear without being harassed by wealthy old men looking to stick it to a hot, young girl. She’s fresh meat to these guys, like a virgin ready to be sacrificed. And I’m not letting anyone near her, even if she can fend them off herself.
“Oh, come on.” Emerson grins. “You’ll be fine. There are plenty of cameras and security. Just stay inside. I want to check the footage back at your place and make sure Bristol is safe and in bed by now.”
“Shouldn’t that be my job?” The staff brings out hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes, and we’re in the way as they shuffle on by us. I back Em against the wall, helping the staff by keeping out of the way. I swear I’m not trying to cop a feel, but it’s difficult not to get hard being pressed up against her.
“You need to worry about your hockey career and making sure everything is golden before we leave. Even if that means another round with your favorite vulture,” she teases.
I groan. “Please don’t make me talk to Fitzy again.”
“If you don’t, I will.”
She’d better be joking, because if Fitzgerald comes anywhere near Emerson, I’ll put her over my shoulder and carry her ass out to the car.
TWELVE
EMERSON
We kissed quitea bit on the night of the gala. It’s not as though we haven’t fooled around in front of his friends, like the time I dropped to my knees and gave him a blow job at his house. But that was all part of the plan, wasn’t it?
Well, maybe not the blow job, but making out with him and pretending to be a couple. It just went a little farther than expected. He’s hot, and our hormones got the better of us. Completely normal.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
But when we’re not in front of spectators or potentially on camera for an audience, we keep our distance.
And the gala was six days ago.
He hasn’t been so much as within arm’s reach, physically, for nearly a week.
And I hope his avoidance doesn’t have anything to do with Brad. I hadn’t wanted to tell Kyler the specifics of my leaving the bureau. He wasn’t like Brad. Jaxson had assured me that what happened at the FBI would not happen with his men or any of his clients.
And I can’t stop thinking about when Kyler’s lips grazed mine or when his cock poked into me. It’s just a physical reaction, nothing more. Right?
He doesn’t actually want to be with me. That’s ludicrous.
