Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy (Sweet Monster Treats)

10. Rosey

Chapter 10

Rosey

T his was going to be okay. No, maybe better than okay. Solely because I was sharing this time with Ostor.

Somewhere between finding him adorable and sweet, to him singing on the plane, to him chatting with Macy’s friends, I’d started to realize this felt much better than fake. Since I didn’t know what to do about it, I gave up trying. I’d ride along with my orc cowboy to see where he took me next. We might end up galloping toward the sunset or drowning in a swamp, but if he was by my side, I’d follow.

We lounged in the pool for the rest of the day. Ostor sang after drinking the tequila. The rest of us did too. The sorhox song was catchy and fun.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, we left the pool and went to our rooms to shower and dress up, joining everyone at the entrance to the buffet. Ostor’s eyes bugged when he saw all the food available there, and he pronounced salsa food fit for the orc king. This turned into a competition among the guys to see who could eat the hottest salsa at the buffet. I loved that they included Ostor in the game.

He blended in with our group, maybe even better than me, but I liked that about him too.

After, with the sun long gone from the sky and the moon shining down to light our way, we walked hand-in-hand along the stone path lined with palm trees and lush vegetation, aiming for our building. We’d left the others at the entrance to the buffet, them heading to the beach bar for more fun, us feeling tired from our flight and eager to go to bed and sleep.

My skin prickled whenever I thought of lying beside him in the bed tonight. The bed was big, though. Would I even know he was there?

“I consumed an entire bowl of chips, salsa, and guaca-mosshie,” he pronounced.

“Guacamole,” I said slowly, repeating it until he got it right.

He stopped and turned me to face him. “Thank you.”

I gazed up at him, admiring how gorgeous he was in his collared shirt open just enough to show his beautiful green skin, to his jeans that molded to his ass as if it had been carved by a master, to the way his tousled hair hung to his shoulders. He’d left his cowboy hat inside the room. “Why are you thanking me?”

“For many things.” He stroked a strand of wayward hair off my face, smoothing it across my shoulder, his fingers lingering on the bare skin exposed by my spaghetti-strap sundress. “For bringing me to Mexico. I never would’ve come here on my own. For sharing your family and friends with me. For being kind enough to help me pronounce all these strange words. For not laughing.”

I knew what he meant. I’d seen how his face flushed when those people laughed at him at the bar, and I’d wanted to smack them. Toss tequila in their faces. Tell them that mean girl was so twentieth century. Instead, I’d glared and swallowed the words. I had no problem telling someone off, but I hadn’t wanted to embarrass Ostor further.

“I’ll never laugh at you, only with you.” My voice came out much huskier than I expected. But my emotions felt brand new, and I didn’t know how to interpret them. This wasn’t supposed to be real, but already, I was beginning to wish that it was.

“And that’s why I . . .” His gaze fell into mine, and he leaned close.

His lips brushed mine, soft at first, and tentative, like he was gauging my reaction. Something spun in the pit of my stomach, a need I hadn’t realized was there.

The kiss started innocent enough, similar to the one at the airport. But this wasn’t for show, because there was no one watching. This was for us alone. His body pressed closer, the warmth radiating from him intensifying with every subtle movement.

The hand that had lingered on my shoulder now trailed down my back, his rough fingers grazing through the thin fabric of my dress as if he was mapping out the curve of my spine. I swayed into him. A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating against mine, and I swore that sound alone could've melted me into a puddle.

Ostor’s other hand cupped the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his big, solid body surrounded me like a protective wall. The rest of the world, our fake dating charade, my sister and Jacob, and even the tropical night air, faded until all I could think about was the way he was kissing me. The intensity of it left me breathless. Like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. Like I was the only thing that mattered.

I could’ve made him stop. Pulled back. Reminded us both that we’d just met. That this was pretend. A game. But I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Instead, I leaned in deeper, my hands sliding up his chest to link them around his neck. His hair slid between my fingers, thicker than I expected, soft in comparison to the hard muscles under my palms.

His lips parted, urging mine to do the same, and the moment they did, his tongue swept in, stoking the heat burning through me. A tiny gasp escaped me, and he responded by pressing deeper, his fingers brushing the hollow of my jaw in a way that sent tingles down my spine.

This was no trial run. This was Ostor claiming me, giving me all the control if I wanted to step away. What kind of person would leave a kiss like this unfinished?

His hand shifted lower to skim along the back of my waist, the fingers of his other hand rubbing soft circles into the sensitive skin under my ribs. My breath caught as he shifted his angle, kissing me deeper, slower, as if he had all the time in the world to explore and taste me. As if he'd die if he didn't keep touching me.

Every nerve in my body felt exposed, wide open to this male alone. I was falling, tumbling into him, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His grip on my waist tightened, and I half-wondered if he was trying to stop himself from pulling me against him even more.

My skin heated where his hands roamed, but they stayed respectful, never venturing to intimate areas. Yet the way his fingers curled possessively around my waist sent a different kind of fire through me.

I wished my dress wasn’t keeping us apart. Even so, the fabric might as well have not existed. His presence enfolded me, and I leaned into it, savoring every second.

He pulled back, his lips hovering close. His forehead rested against mine. I felt more connected to him now than I had with anyone in a long, long time, if ever.

“You taste like the very fates themselves,” he growled.

I wasn’t sure if it was the wine I'd had with dinner or the way his words seemed to strum every nerve in my body, but my lips trembled into a grin. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His hand slid up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, gentle compared to the heady heat I’d just felt. His gaze, almost feral, met mine. Neither of us spoke for a beat too long. Instead, we stared, breathing each other in.

This wasn’t supposed to matter, yet every part of me was responding like it absolutely did.

“That was more than I’d planned.” My voice barely came out a whisper.

“In a good or a bad way?”

“Oh, definitely good.” Amazing. Stunning. Life-altering good.

His eyes softened, though the hunger I found there hadn’t waned. If anything, it pulsed stronger now. “This was real for me, Rosey.”

Those five words pushed against something locked tight in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to face yet.

“Yeah,” I whispered. There was no point pretending otherwise.

Could we go back after this?

I might be damned, but I didn't want to go back, and I suspected he felt the same.

He took my hand, and we walked slowly to our building, taking the elevator to our floor, and entering our room. A flick of the switch bathed the hall in light.

“You take the bathroom first,” he said. “I’ll follow.”

Was he suggesting this to give me time to settle in bed, to pretend I was already asleep when he slipped between the covers? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ask.

“Thank you,” I said instead.

Inside the bathroom, I stared into the mirror while scrubbing makeup off my face with practiced moves. Beneath the splash of water, worry lingered like a shadow I couldn’t shake loose.

Rinsing my face, I massaged my cheeks, the cool water mixing with warmth from my skin.

“You do not look different,” I told my reflection as I toweled dry. It was getting pretty hard to ignore the turmoil in my chest that disagreed. It felt silly, but really, how could I not look different? Inside, everything had shifted. Whatever happened tonight had sent my world spinning.

How did one kiss, though a phenomenal, belly-fluttering kiss, do this? And more importantly, why did this fake wedding date situation feel too real?

Taking a deep breath, I peeled off my clothes, dragging on my sleep shirt that hovered just above mid-thigh. I left the bathroom, flicking off the light.

Ostor was sitting on the deck outside, his broad silhouette framed by the open sliding glass door. The night air stirred around him, playing with his hair. His back remained to me, but at the scuff of my bare feet on the tiles, his head turned, his gaze locking onto my frame.

Everything inside me flushed like I had a fever. I wasn't sick. No, this was something hotter. I felt alive and pulsing from one look alone.

He rose gracefully, considering how large he was. That simple movement pulled nearly all the air from the room, leaving it thick and swirling with something unnamed. Passing by me on his way to the bathroom, he said nothing, but the weight of his stare clung to the space he left behind. I wanted him to touch me. Just . . . graze my arm. Or my waist. Anywhere. I itched for it.

Snapping out of those thoughts, I went around the side of the bed and threw the covers back. I climbed in, shaking off whatever madness had filled my head without permission.

I reached over and turned off the lamp, letting the room sink into darkness. The muted sound of the bathroom door clicking shut mingled with the whirl of the air conditioner mounted above the hallway entrance. I stared at the ceiling, letting the cool air settle against my skin. Such an odd contrast to the heat swirling inside me.

Minutes passed. The sound of the bathroom door opening snagged my attention, followed by his soft, padding footsteps making their way to his side of the bed. Through the blur of shadows, I watched him pause before he finally climbed between the sheets.

The mattress dipped under his weight, yet we didn't touch. Close, but not close enough. Somehow, the space between us was the only thing keeping my sanity in place.

“Goodnight, Rosey,” he said in a bare whisper as if he really did think I'd already fallen asleep.

“Goodnight, Ostor,” I said, grateful my voice didn’t come out strained.

We laid in place, both on our backs, me staring into the darkness while my mind raced with everything that had been said and unsaid between us today.

Such an amazing kiss, and I’d experienced two of them in the same day.

My breathing slowed after a while, and I shifted, turning on my side to face him. Ostor turned too, mirroring me. His dark gaze found mine in the semi-dark as if he could see me as clear as day. His deep black eyes bore into me with something tender. Gentle. A touch concerned.

Was he worried? No, there was no regret in his gaze. He’d told me our kiss felt real.

This might not be all pretend anymore.

My lips curled into a smile. I wasn’t sure I could fight whatever was happening to us even if I tried.

He smiled back, giving me a slow, honest grin that warmed the air between us.

“We’ve done well, so far,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I know tomorrow will be even better.”

Before I could respond, before I could think about that, he reached across the gap and pulled me gently against his chest, tucking me into him. The warmth of him, the hard wall of his body, wasn’t suffocating. It felt steady. Protective.

Perfect.

His hand found its way to my back, and he started rubbing slow, light circles, each one pulling out tension until my limbs softened. I released a breath and sunk into his embrace, letting it wrap around me like a safe harbor.

Whatever this was, real or fake, it made my worries melt away one by one.

Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe this long, wild weekend wouldn’t feel like a mess.

Maybe this could actually be the start of something more between me and Ostor.

And with that hazy thought, I drifted to sleep.