Page 58 of Gin and Lava

“I don’t lie,” Mason corrects. “Nobody said anything about being honorable.”

“We are not living in a Jane Austen novel,” I quip back.

“Thank, God.” Mason rolls his eyes. “I wouldnotlike a spot of tea and a biscuit. Instead, I’d like to ream you with my biscuit—”

I laugh. “Will you shut up for a second and listen?”

“Only if you have a ball-gag in your pocket,” Mason shoots back. “And you promise to spank me if I talk without permission.”

“I thought you wanted a massage,” I retort, giving him a sassy look.

“More than anything,” he replies. “You realize you’ve yet to see me naked.”

“Oh, the scandal.” I mock-gasp.

“Is that the bad idea you were about to propose?” Mason asks, nodding back to the spa.

“No, actually …” I take a deep breath and go for it. “I was wondering if you’d like to be my fake boyfriend for Shauri’s wedding.”

Mason drops all the playfulness and gives me anAre you bullshitting me?look.

“Fakeboyfriend,” I emphasize, before he gets too many ideas. “We did make a pact to be each other’s dates to the next wedding we attended. This one just happens to have a full week of activities before it.”

“You think I’m boyfriend material?” Mason asserts, that playful quirk returning to his lip.

“Fakeboyfriend material,” I reply just as quick.

“I dunno,” Mason continues to play. “A relationship requires a level of commitment I’m not sure I’m ready for.”

“It’sfake, Mason! It’s not a real anything.”

“You realize I just came by to bend myself over your desk and ask you to lick my balls. Do fake boyfriends do that kind of thing?”

“Not at work!” I point a finger at him. “But maybe—if you’re extra good—I’ll throw in a massage somewhere far away from this spa.”

“Do I get to choose the location?” Mason asks with a gleam in his eye that makes me regret offering.

“I’ll give you a massage at my apartment,” I counter. “Where I have a professional massage table.”

“We’re still talking about sex, right?” Mason asks.

“We’re talking about a massage.”

“Which is code for Naomi’s hands all over my balls, happy ending, yes?”

“Or I could take the massage off the table entirely,” I say dryly.

“And we can get dirty on the floor?”

“Mason!” I gripe, needing him to focus. “Fake boyfriend. Are you in or out?”

“In or out?” Mason quirks an eyebrow at me.

“Focus, Haas!” I sass, even though I’m smiling, knowing that was a hard one for him to resist. “Are you going to pretend we’re dating or not?”

“For a week?”

“Well, probably from now until the wedding is over,” I lay out.

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