Page 3 of The Pucking Fake Boyfriend

“Because . . .”

And then, I watch as her gaze dips lower, down my chest and abs, and even lower, until she stares coldly at my half-exposed dick,

“Because,” she drawls again, swallowing. This time, she has the shadow of a mocking smile on her face.

My hands ball into fists. Did Britney White just hint at not being impressed with my dick?

I want to stand up, throw her over this table, and show her how unforgettably good I can make her feel.

The moment that thought crosses my mind, I feel something that shocks me to my very core.

My dick stiffening. At the thought of fucking Britney.

I remain silent as she pushes me to sit and starts working on my neck and shoulders, hoping the feeling will pass.

Because I can not be attracted to my best friend’s baby sister.

But my damned dick disagrees, getting harder at her soft fingers working out the tension in my neck. Her scent fills my nostrils, and when she moves right behind me, the hard muscles on my back are pressed against her tits, and I can almost certainly feel her nipples through the bra she’s wearing . . .

Oh, fuck.

I want her.

I’ve never felt the urge to punch myself this badly.

Abruptly, I surge to my feet, desperate to leave the room and whatever interim madness it filled me with.

I turn around and open my mouth to ask for a rain check, already making a mental note to never request Britney again. But before I can let the words out, my body tingles at the sensation of air wafting around my hips.

My bare hips.

I look down, cursing inwardly. The towel has completely slipped off. I’m fully naked, with my dick pointing at her in its full glory.

Grabbing the towel and apologizing would be the way to go, but an insane burning urge causes me to glance at Britney’s expression first.

She’s staring right at me. At it. Two rosy blotches are staining her cheeks, and her moist lips are slightly parted in surprise. But more than that, I notice the look in her eyes. It’s a look I’ve seen hundreds of times before, and one I have no trouble interpreting.

Desire.

Her open awe rids me of every trace of disgruntlement that I carried with me for the last ten minutes. I don’t care that she’s managed to, without any effort at all, irritate me and make me want her in the same breath.

And from the way she looks at me, one thing is for sure. Britney is most definitelynota virgin.

I reach down for my towel, giddiness replacing my brief embarrassment. I could swear I hear the tiniest sound of protest, almost like she doesn’t want me to cover up.

And while I’m not completely opposed to that, I’m aware that a lot of lines have been crossed today. Most of them unintentionally, and I can’t afford to cross one more.

So, I flash a smile at her as I wrap myself up.

“You’re welcome.” I chuckle before I slip out of the room.

CHAPTER 2

BRITNEY

Okay, he’s hot.

Very hot. Basically a Greek god. And for the briefest moment, when I saw him standing there, naked and erect, I wanted him.

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