Page 23 of Making It While Faking It
Treasure shakes her head as a beautiful rose color burns into her cheeks.
“I don’t need anything,” I bark, mostly embarrassed but angry too. She should’ve asked before inviting guests though. “Enjoy your dinner, Caroline.” Well, the end of dinner. Their plates are empty and wineglasses half full. Did they disturb myMes Fleur Collection?
“Treasure, aren’t you going to introduce your old friends to your new squeeze?” the woman with the blond braids asks.
“Why don’t you join us for a drink, Achilles Lord?” says another blonde with a short haircut. The woman leering at me looks familiar.
“I think they should kiss, at least. Show us they’rereallyin love,” the beautiful one with billows of curly brown hair says. But there’s a hint of cynicism in her voice.
“Okay,” Treasure says glibly as she bounds to her feet.
I’m unable to move as she makes her approach. Her tight jeans make her long, shapely legs sexy. She’s wearing an oversized white T-shirt with the wordsMind Meacross the front. The hem of her shirt doesn’t extend past the waistband of her jeans. The subtle swinging of her hips is sexy. I swallow, unable to rip my eyes off of her.
She’s in front of me. Her gorgeous eyes widen in a sexually alluring manner, fastening on mine. I’m too overwhelmed by the rich vanilla scent and the energetic heat that’s coming off her body. I’m hard. I grow harder when she presses her hands on my torso and rises a few inches higher. I suspect she’s standing on her tiptoes.
My mouth falls open as her breaths press against my lips. She wants in. I quirk an eyebrow, knowing I want to but wondering if I should. Then her friends’ amused murmurs slip through the air around us. And now we have to do it. Her lips are on mine, and I let my mouth join the kiss.
The red wine that she tastes like might explain why she’s chosen to prove our relationship with this kiss. Things are happening in my chest that have never happened to me. Her tongue is addictive and incredibly soft. It takes everything in me to keep my cool. I fight the urge to weave my fingers through her belt loops and bring her against my cock. Our tongues stroke and rub. Our lips weave and press. I want to cup one of her cone-shaped tits. She’s not wearing a bra. The fucking longing makes me moan, and then she moans into my mouth too. Her fingers are in my hair, touching my scalp. Shit, that’s my hot spot.
I step back and away from her.
A Kiss Isn’t Just a Kiss
TREASURE GROVE
Ican’t believe I did that. In a daze, I stare into his eyes as my friends clap and hoot. I cannot tear my eyes away from the look on his face. His frown can’t become more intense than it is now. I think I’ve thoroughly shocked him. But he kissed back like he enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. I’m still enjoying it. The floating feeling in my head is subsiding, but still... wow. I am on cloud nine.
But now he looks as if he’s ready to clobber me. His narrowed eyes and pressed lips make my insides recoil, which reminds me that before I kissed him, I felt like crap.
I’m seriously on my last leg. My energy has been up and down. For instance, after Caroline left me alone to make myself comfortable, I showered in the spa-sized shower, and the steam had relieved some of my stress-cold symptoms, only to make me want to crawl into bed afterward. But no, I couldn’t. I had dinner to make.
While cooking, a serious jolt of adrenaline caused me to feel a lot better. At first, I didn’t believe Achilles actually cooked for himself, until I searched through his stocked refrigerators and found every single item I needed to make a madbistec encebollado—steak and onions, a Puerto Rican dish that my head chef, Nya, taught me. Before I dashed off to Iceland to make enough money to save my restaurant, Nya used to teach me how to cook a new dish every Wednesday night. Her bistec encebollado blew me away.
The scent that wafted from Achilles’s kitchen even lured Caroline out from wherever she was hiding in the house. Her grandmother was Puerto Rican and used to make the dish for their family on the third Sunday of every month. I gave her a taste of my version. Remaining loyal to her grandmother, Caroline wouldn’t confirm or deny that my bistec encebollado was better. We had a good laugh about it. Her continuing to open up to me, to show me her human side, makes living here easier. However, she was impressed by how I could cook a full meal while keeping the kitchen clean. I confessed that my grandmother, who refused to allow servants cook her meals or clean her house as long as she was capable of doing both, taught me to clean as I go.
Luckily, my friends arrived while I was setting the table. My body didn’t have enough downtime to remind me that I’m not feeling so hot. Then we sat down to eat. Of course, Caroline joined us.
Questions about Achilles and my relationship started coming at me like baseballs from a pitching machine. The first was, how did Achilles and I meet? I bullshitted my way through that one with an answer that was essentially a nonanswer. I can’t even remember what I said, something about Achilles dining at my restaurant. Thankfully we started drinking wine early because I’m pretty sure a lot of my answers were suspect. But the more questions I had to dodge, the more off-color I felt. But I also loved having my girlfriends over as we caught up on each other’s recent endeavors. Although they wouldn’t abandon the subject of my love life.
When we landed on the subject of Achilles and my nonexistent sex life, I was able to at least keep the topic PG-13 by remarking that Caroline practically raised Achilles. It was also a great topic of diversion because like myself, my friends couldn’t believe Caroline was old enough to be a mother figure to Achilles. Questions about him as a child flew at her. But not even a couple of sips of wine could make Caroline reveal too much. She never lost any of her professionalism. Her answers remained short and not fleshed out.
I, however, at one point, told a whopper of a lie that was too much for even me. I said that Achilles spread rose petals on the bed the first time we made love. Caroline looked at me with a peculiar frown. It was as if she knew I was lying because what I explained was nowhere in his wheelhouse.
Knowing that she knew I was lying through my teeth brought back that sinking feeling in my body. I was mentally drained and tired of making shit up, and then Achilles showed up. Then, Shanique made a comment about how I should kiss my fiancé. All dinner long, she was eyeing me askew, as if she barely believed my lies. She wanted to test me, and so I did it.
And now here we are, Achilles and I, still trapped in each other’s eyes. Every part of my body feels deprived of him. Our kiss was more than a simple joke. It was real. It was the sort of making out people do while on their way to second base. However, I wish I could’ve explained to him why I had to do it before I followed through with it.
I drop my face to end this staring thing that Achilles and I have going. My eyes skim over his crotch, and I swear he’s got a bulge as big as the Rock of Gibraltar. Or maybe I’m seeing things simply because my focus is off.
“Good night, ladies,” Achilles says as I try to find the right expression before facing my friends again. When I bring my eyes back up to his face, I’m relieved that he’s no longer scowling. “Good night, Treasure.”
The word “good night” escapes me without my actually sensing that I’ve said it.
It’s odd how buoyant my head feels and how light I am on my feet as I float back to my chair.Get it together, Treasure.It was just a stupid kiss, one that was as fake as the reason why I’m living here in the first place. Forcing the corners of my mouth up, but not too high, I settle on a self-assured grin. My former castmates watch me, each with her own version of a giddy expression.
“What?” I say, feeling as though I want to melt into the comfortable chair. I think that kiss zapped all the strength I had left.
“That was hot,” Claire says and then balls her fist over her mouth to yawn.
