Page 12 of Huge Games

"Remembering how good it was?" I tip my head to the side and fold my lips into my mouth, tasting her again. I shoot her with my most smoldering look, sure that my arrogance is part of what turns her on. It's what all girlsseem to like. Treat them well, and they run a mile. Dangle them from strings so they don't know whether you like them or not, and they want to marry you.

"Yep." It's said with no pretense, which catches me off guard.

"I know this is a fake date, but we could make it a real one-night stand?"

Celine stifles a smile. "You're a real Romeo, you know that?"

"Didn't Romeo fall in love with an underage girl, have a three-day relationship, and then kill himself?"

Celine snorts, frowning in confusion. "That's a pretty dark summary of an amazingly romantic play."

"It’s not a romance. It’s a tragedy, and that doesn't answer my question."

She narrows her eyes and then glances around the bar to see who's noticed us. I keep my eyes on her, not caring about the observers. All I want to know is whether she's coming home with me tonight.

"Eddie's friend is on the phone."

"Oh, really. Want to give him something else to tell his asshole cheating friend?"

I lean in again, and she holds me back. "You're seriously going to tell me you never cheated?"

With my nose brushing against the tip of hers, I tell her the truth. "I don't date, so cheating isn't a thing."

"You mean you don't commit?"

"Exactly."

She kisses my lips again as though she's assumed this isn't going anywhere apart from the fake date arrangement and is happy about it. She's probably right. Relationships are bullshit. People just latch onto each other and then spend the rest of their lives trying to tear each other apart. It's better to just enjoy what there is to enjoy: a few stolenmoments, some shared passion, and a little surface-level connection. Then part with happy memories we'll both smile about in a few years.

God, I want this girl in my bed.

I pull back, gripping her mane of chestnut hair in my hand, tipping her face up to mine. "Do you think we've made enough waves here?"

She nods, and then her eyes flick to the left. "Can I get a picture before we go for socials?"

I grit my teeth because social media is my pet peeve. It's just a load of fake people faking their happiness or empathy to make everyone else feel bad about their lives or about themselves. I don't like people taking photos of me, either. I like to move through the world living in the moment. Looking back is for people who've had childhoods filled with blissful memories, and that isn't me.

But Celine is all wide, pleading eyes, and for some reason, with her, I don't want to say no.

She pulls her phone from her purse and holds it over our heads the way influencers do to reduce their jowls. I don't look at the camera but rest my forehead against the side of her head so that only a portion of my side profile is visible. Celine seems content with the image because she quickly uploads it to Insta while I finish my beer. I don't have an account to check who's responding to it, though.

"Let's go," she says eventually. Making a big show about sliding off the stool in a sexy way, Celine plumps her new curls and pivots in her new dress, cocking her hip and showing off her perfect legs. If people weren't looking before, they sure are looking now. Taking her by the hand, I walk her to the door, enjoying the glances we receive as we cross through the crowd. Outside, Celine drops my hand and stretches her arms into the air, making a high-pitched, happy sound. "That was good, Elias. Really good." She focuses on me with a big, bright smile, sending something warm that wraps around my heart. "If thatdoesn't make him scream, I don't know what will."

"Forget making Eddie scream. How about I make you scream?"

Even in the darkness, I can see her pupils swell with arousal. When I take a step closer, looming over her, she holds her ground.

With a husky whisper, she says, "I thought you'd never ask."

We don't even make it through the door to my dorm room before grasping at each other in desperation. I shove down the thin straps of her dress, baring her perfect breasts cupped in a bra that almost reveals her nipples. My mouth is on her neck, her clavicle, and lower until I'm latched onto one tight little nipple and sucking hard enough to make her gasp. Celine pulls my shirt, and I tear it from my body in one rough motion that has the stitches breaking.

"Damn," she says, trailing my body with lazy eyes. "Your body is insane."

"Nothing insane about it. Just hard work and dedication."

I push my shoulders back and make my pecs jump one at a time and laugh when I make her giggle.

"Well, I, for one, am very happy to appreciate the results of your intense focus." She trails a hand down the middle of my chest, reading the bumps of my abs with slow precision. When she gets to my belt, she stops.

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