Page 47 of Making It While Faking It
Maybe it’s because I want to fuck you silly but can’t.“I can’t see what you’re talking about.”
“It’s like you hate me.”
That’s ridiculous.“I don’t hate you. I don’t know you well enough to hate you.” Now it’s my turn. “But what about you… are you still carrying on with Simon Linney behind my back?” Warmth rushes to my eyes, and I’m grinning, enjoying whatever kind of game we’re playing.
She blushes as she curls her body, pushing her hip up. It’s a seductive pose, but she’s more cute than sexual. “I’m a faithful and loyal lover, Mr. Lord.” She uncorks her body to point at my face. “And wow, Mr. Lord, that’s a very real smile you’re gracing me with.”
Shit, I am grinning, and I shake my head because of it.
“No,” she says. “I carry no torch for a serial cheater like Simon. I actually caught him and Cherry Attwell fucking—like, butt naked and going at it like wild animals in nature.” Frowning contemplatively, she presses a finger against her chin. “And when I saw them, I didn’t think, ‘Oh my God, my fiancé’s screwing around, and it hurts.’ No… I thought, ‘Shit, I can’t walk away from this catastrophic situation, because I need the money.’”
Her whole demeanor has changed. She’s less playful and flirtatious. But I’m fond of the more serious and thoughtful side of her too.
“I crept out of his trailer, thinking, ‘How can I use what I just learned about him to get the hell away from him and still be paid what’s owed to me?’ And poof, there was my dad. You know what I call that?”
I shake my head. It’s amazing how she has my complete attention.
Smirking, she says, “Divine intervention. I think it’s all going to work out, Achilles. You’re going to get what you want, and I’m going to get what I want. And you will live happily ever after, and so will I.”
I rub my chin. That’s cute. My heart skips a beat because she’s so fucking cute. “Perhaps.”
“What do you want, Achilles? What will give you that sense of living happily ever after?”
I tense up and then resume eating. She’s getting too personal, especially since I’ve never given what she asked any thought.
But since we’re being honest, I say, “There is no such thing.”
I steady myself for her rebuttal, but one doesn’t come. I glance at her, and she’s facing her plate, eating too.
“I agree,” she finally says. “I said that wrong. I meant happy in the moment.”
Humph, I grunt. I’ve already said too much.
We eat in silence, and since it’s quiet, the rain is louder and so is the wind. There’s fear in Treasure’s eyes when she glances over her shoulder and in the direction of the windows.
“Achilles?” Her voice is hoarse and low.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I jerk myself back so hard that I almost fall off my stool.
“Just tonight, I promise. I’ll stay on my side of the bed. I promise.”
Treasure Grove
If it were any man other than Achilles Lord, I wouldn’t be so surprised he let me into his bed. But I had to ask. I wouldn’t have been able to get through the night alone in that dark room with the wind growling and rain clawing angrily at the windows. The shutters make nature’s fury easier to endure, but not that much easier. But look at him. My eyes have adjusted to the dark. I want so badly for him to bring me near. To feel his cock pinched against my ass. That alone would probably make me orgasm several times.
But look at him…
Achilles snores, but it’s not hard, rigid snoring. It’s a soft, hypnotic sound. The elements are still taking their rage out over the city, but that’s not why I can hear my heartbeats pounding in my ears. Is this what contained lust feels like? I’ve never had to deny my lust. Every man I ever wanted, wanted me three times more. A few have even come before thrusting inside me. But Achilles is as snug as a bug in a rug, sleeping on the opposite side of his king-sized bed with two fluffy pillows stacked under his head and his warm comforter and sheets pulled up to his neck. He reminds me of how husbands and wives slept in those very old movies.
I close my eyes finally. Achilles is never going to fuck me. Maybe the rumors are true—maybe he is gay.
Muted daylight fills the room.Well, it’s not too muted. I can’t hear a trace of rain or wind, and a very, very hard body is against my backside.
Instead of one, I open both eyes. I don’t want to move an inch, which means I can’t look down to see that Achilles’s arms are actually around me and securing me against him.
