Page 45 of Making It While Faking It
“I see,” he says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I see.”
I went straight to bed.The storm has fully blossomed, and wind gusting and whistling and hurling rain at the glass makes me toss and turn. Even though my bed is comfortable, I’ve been trying to fall asleep for God only knows how long.
I reach out to take my cell phone off the nightstand and press the side button to activate the screen. Two hours and thirty-three minutes—that’s how long I’ve been trying to fall asleep. Honestly, I’m not certain the weather is the sole cause of my restlessness. Earlier, Achilles and I went up to his penthouse. He waited for me in the foyer as I put a bag together. Standing in my enormous closet, I could feel the building swaying, which made my stomach queasy. I didn’t delay as I threw facial cleanser, fresh underwear—especially fresh underwear, because the panties I had on were soaking wet thanks to Achilles—and other essential items along with my favorite pajamas into an overnight bag.
I lie very still in bed as I recall the way Achilles looked at me after I descended the stairs and said, “I’m ready—like, so ready.”
I’m starting to comprehend that the way he frowns at me has nothing to do with hostile feelings toward me. I think to him, I’m like a puzzle he has to put together, and he doesn’t have the instructions. Basically, he’s trying to figure me out. So I’ve decided to stop taking his glares personally.
We said goodnight to each other. I bet he’s out like a log right now. He’s not thinking about me at all or worried about the rain. We’re in his universe, after all, not mine, and that is probably why I can’t find any peace tonight.
I flip onto my side and smash a pillow over my head. Maybe this will do it.
Closer and Closer
ACHILLES LORD
Ican’t sleep for shit. I can’t stop thinking about how she chews on her bottom lip when she’s thinking or the way she stared at me while Dan and I boarded up her windows. Nero’s plan is working too well. I’m supposed to make her feel safe with me.
“She’s a single girl,” Nero said. “Make yourself useful. Just don’t use your cock. That’s the surest way to blow up this deal.”
I made him elaborate on whatever the hell he meant by making myself useful. He said to be nice to her and let her friend zone me. “Guys don’t know this, but the friend zone is the securest place to be in a woman’s life. Women are loyal as hell to you when you’re in their friend zone.”
I thought he’d lost his mind. Not because he’s wrong—there’s a lot of sense to what he said. But I thought Treasure and me becoming friends would be impractical. I’m not certain about that anymore. I couldn’t have planned for Treasure to become ill on the night of the big family dinner. Her fever spiked after I got her in bed. She was delirious. She kissed me again and doesn’t remember doing it. I wonder if I should take her down memory lane.
I want to use my cock, though.
But Nero was right about that. When shit goes awry, because it will go awry, sex will only complicate matters. But damn, her skin is so soft. Her nearness is overwhelming. I went to bed with another case of blue balls and was forced to do something about it. I’ve always prided myself on being a man who didn’t need to tug one out. I either fuck or don’t fuck—and only mild masturbation. I think she’s figured out I have control issues. I bet that turns her off.
There’s a soft rattle on my door, and I sit up.
“Yeah,” I call out and reach over to turn on the reading lamp next to the headboard.
It can only be one person, and as the door creeps open, Treasure, who’s wearing pink-and-white pin-striped pajamas, takes a few steps into my room, hugging herself.
“Are you awake?” she whispers.
She said she was hungry,so I put on a robe and we went down to the kitchen. She sits timidly on the stool, shaking her leg nervously, and when thunder crashes, she jumps. I’m making two feta omelets with spinach.
There’s another crash of thunder, and she leaps off her stool and onto her feet.
“Toast,” she says. “I’ll make toast.”
I want to pull her close to me and whisper, “Are you really afraid of a little thunder, baby?” I want to assure her that I’ll die before I let anything happen to her. And then we’ll say, fuck the omelets. I’ll take her to my bed and do all the shit to her I’ve been fantasizing about.But sex will complicate things between us.I have to remember that.
Finally, the omelets are made and the toast browned. I get the marmalade someone gifted me once—I can’t remember who—and we sit at the island and eat.
“Wow,” she says after swallowing. “This is really good.”
I put my thumb up and thank her. She looks at my thumb like she wants to touch it.
“Can I ask you something?” she says and then feeds herself another mouthful of my omelet.
“Like what?” Her questions can at times be outlandish.
Her chuckle is like music to my ears and enchanting to my cock.
She frowns curiously. “Where’s your father?”
