Pretending I’m Yours (Forbidden Billionaires #3)

Chapter 10

chapter 10

MAYA

I wake slowly, deliciously sore in all the right places.

Sunlight streams through the hazy, tinted glass, bathing the room in pale blue light. Outside, birds chirp, someone shouts obscenities from the street below, and a garbage truck rumbles around the corner, vibrating the brick wall behind me. The sounds are so signature New York, they make me smile as I stretch my arms over my head.

God, I love it here. It’s so different than Maine, so busy and vibrant and alive. It makes me feel more alive, just existing in the Big Apple.

Still, I’ve never woken up quite this happy to be in the city.

But then, I’ve never woken up freshly bedded by a gorgeous man to the smell of something delicious cooking downstairs, either.

My man isn’t simply gorgeous and the best at sex, he apparently also gets up early to make breakfast.

Be still my heart…

For a moment, I lie in Anthony’s cozy bed, savoring the memories of last night. All the things we did, all the things I know we’ll do again, all the things I have yet to discover…the possibilities are dizzying. And wonderful, and I’ve never been so glad to know I still have six whole nights to spend with someone as I am right now.

A soft, fretful voice in my head warns that I’ll be equally devastated come New Year’s Eve, when we head to bed together for the last time, but I push it aside.

For once in my life, I’m determined to stay in the moment. I’ll go back to keeping an eye to the future when my time with Anthony is through. Until then, I intend to relish every second with the world’s best fake boyfriend.

Though I should probably go feed the cat before I ask Anthony to pretty-please kiss me senseless while he fingers me against the refrigerator.

Pudge is probably?—

“Oh no.” I bolt upright, shame flooding my chest as I realize I forgot to feed Pudge last night. In the midst of all the scary drama at the hotel, and the much more enjoyable drama once we arrived at Anthony’s, it completely slipped my mind.

Gah, I’m the worst!

My poor fur baby must be starved to death.

“See, sex is dangerous,” I mutter as I scramble into my clothes from last night—jeans, sweater, but no bra because I can’t find it immediately, and I refuse to make Pudge wait a second longer than necessary for his breakfast. “One night with a penis, and you’ve become a deadbeat cat parent.”

I hurry down the steep staircase, nearly tripping over my own feet as I move faster than my recently awakened muscles are prepared for, only to stop dead at the base of the stairs.

I expected to find Pudge sprawled on his back in front of the fridge, dramatically playing dead the way he does when I work late and don’t get back to feed him until seven. Instead, my big orange love is happily munching from a ceramic bowl on the floor, decorated with tiny blue paws around the edge. Next to it sits a matching water dish.

And there, at the kitchen counter, wearing nothing but a pair of gray-and-white striped pajama pants and looking unfairly delicious for a man with his hair sticking up in ten different directions, Anthony is cracking eggs into a small white bowl.

When he sees me, his face lights up, banishing any concern that he won’t be as happy to see me as I am to see him. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he murmurs. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” I mumble as I amble across the room, magic fizzing through my veins all over again, just because he’s there, smiling at me like he means it. I am in so much trouble, but I can’t bring myself to worry about drowning in the deep end of the emotion pool when he’s looking at me like that.

“Great, actually,” I add. “Your bed is so comfortable. I think I could…” I trail off as I get close enough to see the chunky, fancy-looking food in Pudge’s bowl. “That isn’t the canned food I brought.”

“I didn’t want to go through your things,” he says, whisking the eggs with a fork. “And the pet store is only two blocks away.”

My brows shoot up. “You went to the pet store?”

“Of course not, woman,” he says with a playful scoff. “What do you take me for? A barbarian? I ordered groceries and pet food delivered, like a civilized human being.” He sets his fork in the sink before crossing to me. “The better not to leave my sexy houseguest alone and unguarded.”

“Unguarded?” I murmur, melting into his strong arms as he draws me close. “Your neighborhood doesn’t seem dangerous.”

“It’s not, but still,” he says, giving my ass a squeeze as he kisses the top of my head. “Better safe than sorry. Especially when I have such a delicious woman naked in my bed.” He pulls back, arching a brow. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing,” I say, a shy smile creeping across my face. “A little sore, but…good sore.”

“Good,” he says, warmth in his voice. “I dreamt about you last night.”

I bite my lip. “Yeah? A good dream, I hope.”

“Very good,” he says, a wicked light in his eyes. “I had you tied to my bed with silk scarves, while I did bad things to you with my tongue.”

I shiver and my sore places begin to ache for him all over again. That’s all it takes, apparently. One word from this sexy man, and I’m ready and willing. “Doesn’t sound bad to me,” I whisper. “It actually sounds…intriguing.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He leans down, his lips angling for mine, but I turn my head at the last second.

“I can’t,” I demure, bringing a hand to hover over my mouth. “I have to brush my teeth first.”

“Never,” he teases, his fingers dancing up and down my ribs as I try to pull away, making me laugh. “I love morning breath kisses. They’re my favorite. The funkier the better.”

“Not happening, mister,” I say, pinching his bare stomach playfully before twisting away and hurrying toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back. And I’ll send you money for the cat food and groceries while we eat. Do you have the Pay Your Friends app?”

“Don’t worry about it, my treat,” he says, waving a breezy hand as he returns to his bowl of eggs. “I’m making veggie omelets by the way. I’ve already sautéed the onions, peppers, and sweet potatoes, all I have to do is mix in the egg. But I wanted to wait until you woke up to see if you like goat cheese.”

“I love goat cheese.” I pause in the doorway to the bathroom, soaking in the domestic scene as Pudge finishes his meal and moves to wind around Anthony’s legs, already begging for more food.

“Then goat cheese you shall have,” he says, carefully toeing Pudge out of the way as he turns to the stove, treating me to a stunning view of his muscled shoulders.

I do love goat cheese.

I could learn to love mornings like this, too.

At sleepovers with my friends, I’m always the first person up, the one who preps breakfast and has coffee waiting long before the others roll out of bed. I enjoy being the caretaker, but I confess having the shoe on the other foot is nice.

Especially when the person pampering me with food and delicious-smelling coffee in a glass carafe looks as good cooking half-naked as Anthony does.

Thinking about how little fat I was able to pinch on his washboard abs, I dart into the bathroom to brush my teeth, surprised by the rosy-cheeked girl in the mirror. My hair is a mess, but my lips and cheeks are pink from a hint of whisker burn, and my eyes are shining like I have the best secret ever.

And, maybe I do.

Though it’s not going to remain a secret for long…

I have to tell someone what I’ve done. I thought I could pull off a top-secret sex mission to New York, but now that I’ve actually done the deed, I need to spill my guts—and hopefully get a little practical advice—from someone I can trust.

And there’s no one I trust more than Elaina.

Which is good, since she’s probably the only one of my friends who won’t be annoyed with me for paying for a hotel instead of asking to stay at their place in the city. Sully and Sydney might not understand why I wanted to keep this close to the vest, but I think Elaina will. Elaina is as independent as I am and even more determined to forge her own way in the world, which sometimes means keeping secrets from the ones you love.

She didn’t tell us she was buying her café until the deed was in hand, and I’m sure if she ever sells, it will be a similar situation. Elaina knows her own mind and doesn’t invite commentary on her decisions idly, even from her best friends.

I’m betting she’s also going to be the only one who understands why I’ve kept my big apartment purchase and plans to move to New York to myself, too.

Though she’ll probably be sad.

Once I leave, Elaina will be the last of our crew left in Sea Breeze.

In the guest room, I dig through my suitcase for clean clothes to change into, then pull out my phone to shoot Elaina a text.

Maya: Hey. How was your Christmas? I hope you had a great time with your family. Just wanted to let you know that I’m safe in the city…and that I may have lost my virginity and might be wondering how a person keeps from falling for a guy when the chemistry is off the charts?

Elaina: WHAT? OMG WHHHAAAAAT? You MIGHT have lost your virginity? My friend, you either lost it or you didn’t. Give it up. What happened last night?!

Maya: I did it. I lost it. As of sometime around nine p.m. last night, I am no longer the oldest member of the Never Been Boinked club!

Elaina: CONGRATULATIONS!! OMG, that’s amazing! At least, I hope it was amazing. You said the chemistry was off the charts, so I’m guessing your mystery man got the job done?

Maya: And then some. Elaina, he’s incredible. He’s smart and sexy and kind, but says filthy things when we’re naked and knows exactly how to touch me and it was just…the best night ever. Sex is not overrated, and I can’t flipping wait to do it again. He’s in the kitchen making breakfast for us now, but when we’re done eating, I’m going to drag him back upstairs and have my way with him.

Elaina: Oh, honey, good for you! This is fantastic news! You deserved a perfect, sexy, filthy-talking first time. So, tell me everything. Who is this guy? What does he do? And most importantly, what is his name, address, and social security number in case he decides to murder you?

Maya: He’s not going to murder me.

Elaina: I hope not, but it never hurts to be prepared. Just sneak his ID from his wallet when you get a chance, take a picture, and shoot it my way. That way I have all the info I need to report his ass if you go missing.

Maya: I’m not going to go missing. I trust him, Elaina. I’m actually staying at his place. He insisted on moving Pudge and me to his apartment in the East Village when he saw my sketchy hotel. But yes, I will send you his name and address later. But not his driver’s license. That would be weird.

Elaina: So? Weird is better than dead.

But you’ve always been good at reading people. If you say he’s a good egg, he’s probably a good egg. Though if he’s actually a keeper and not a serial killer, one part of this doesn’t make sense…

Maya: What’s that?

Elaina: Why are you worried about falling for him? Falling is good! I’d fall in love every week if I could. Even when it ends badly, being in love is the best feeling.

Maya: Says the woman who loves roller coasters. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground, thank you very much. I think we’ll have a great week together, but that’s all this is. Just a temporary thing.

Elaina: Why?!

Maya: It just is. Our lives are going in different directions and more isn’t possible right now. For either of us. I knew that going in, and I thought I was fine with it. But now…

Elaina: But now his magical penis has ensorcelled your heart along with your vagina, and you’re rethinking things?

Maya: I would have said ‘enchanted’ not ensorcelled, but…yes. That’s about the size of it.

Elaina: Speaking of size, how was that? Big, but not too big, I hope. When it comes to first times, sometimes less is more.

Maya: I obviously haven’t encountered many up close and personal, but from what I’ve seen in movies, it was bigger than average. But it was fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle.

Elaina: That’s my girl! You can handle any dick that swings your way. Assuming you want to handle it, of course. And you can handle the feelings, too. Just stay in the moment, enjoy every second, and try not to dwell on the future or lack thereof.

Maya: That’s what I was thinking.

Elaina: Of course you were. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. And half the things we worry about never happen, anyway. Fretting about the future is a waste of life force. He could completely turn you off in a few days and then all that worrying about falling in love with him would have been a big waste of time.

Maya: I can’t imagine that happening, but you’re right. I’m just going to enjoy the time we have and let myself feel whatever I need to feel. And when it’s over, I’ll say goodbye and be grateful for the memories.

Elaina: Sounds like a plan. But text me if you need more advice or a shoulder to cry on when he turns out to be married or in the mob or married AND in the mob or secretly addicted to trimming his toenails with his teeth.

Maya: Gross. That’s disgusting, and Anthony is not disgusting.

Elaina: Oh, Anthony, is it? That’s a nice name. Very classic. Very Italian. Is he Italian? I love a dark-eyed Italian man. All that olive skin and boundless testosterone. But be warned, he could still be gross. Men are mostly gross. That’s why I’m becoming a lesbian…as soon as I can convince myself that I like girls as more than friends. I’ve been reading some really hot girl-on-girl romance, but so far, it’s just making me want to grab Griffin from the pub and ride him all night. Even though he’s clingy as hell and the neediest one-night-stand ever.

Maya: Maybe because you keep going back for more than one night? Don’t mess with Griffin. He’s already half in love with you. You’re going to break his squishy little heart.

Elaina: Ugh. Fine. But there are literally no other decent, unattached men around here. Maybe I need to make a sex run to the city… Does Anthony have any hot friends?

Maya: I’m not sure. But if he does, I doubt I’m going to meet them. We’re kind of keeping things between us. Making the most of the time we have alone.

Elaina: Aw, that’s so romantic! Mark my words, woman, this is going to end up being more than a fling. I feel it in my bones. He’s going to need more Maya in his life and show up on your doorstep in Sea Breeze, hungry for fresh lobster and your incomparable pussy.

Maya: I doubt it, but that’s okay. Like you said, I’m going to live in the now and let the future take care of itself.

Elaina: All right. But if you decide you want more, don’t be afraid to ask for it, woman. You’re a keeper and a half and it’s time everyone—including YOU—realized it. From what you’ve said, it sounds like Anthony might be the first man you’ve dated who doesn’t have his head completely up his ass.

I stare at her words, torn between feeling touched and…depressed.

Anthony doesn’t have his head up his ass, but he didn’t choose me, either. Not really.

Twyla made it clear that her escorts have the right to refuse a match without even giving a reason why, and that they’re never penalized for refusing a date, but still…

Anthony is getting paid to be with me. Even his generosity in feeding me and Pudge has to be viewed through that lens. After all, even after Twyla’s cut and whatever he’s spending on groceries, he’s going to make at least seven thousand dollars from having me in his bed for a week.

I’m sure the “friend” who stayed in this guest room before me didn’t pay nearly that much.

Or maybe that “friend” was another client…

The thought makes my stomach turn and the warm, giddy feelings seep from my body. I don’t want to think about Anthony with another woman, and I really don’t want to think about that woman sleeping in the bed where I lost my virginity last night.

So, I won’t.

“Present moment, present moment,” I chant as I text Elaina a quick goodbye and head back into the kitchen, refusing to let jealousy ruin a single second of our day.

Anthony’s an escort. Being with other women is his job. I can’t get upset about that. It wouldn’t be fair.

Besides, I’m not sharing him with anyone else right now. This week is mine— ours —and I mean to relish the heck out of it.

“Food’s ready, just waiting on the toast,” he says, motioning to the two place settings on the other side of the island, where two leather stools are tucked beneath the overhang. “You good with eating here? Or do you want to take plates into the living room?”

“Here is good, thanks,” I say, walking past the delicious-smelling omelets to meet Anthony by the toaster.

He smiles as I approach. “You changed.”

“I did,” I say, pausing in front of him and tipping my head back to hold his gaze.

“You look good in pink, but I confess I was hoping to get you out of your clothes again before you put new ones on.”

“You can still get me out of my clothes,” I say. “Maybe in the shower after breakfast? I could use a shower. I was a very dirty girl last night.”

“You were the sexiest girl last night,” he says, looping his arm around my waist and drawing me against him. “What did I do to deserve a week with you, Maya Swallows?’

Before I can respond, he bends down, kissing me with a thoroughness that sends warmth pulsing through all my well-loved places. He tastes like coffee, a hint of sugar, and sweet possibilities.

As I curl my fingers into his bare chest, loving the feel of his strength, I decide that multiple things can be true at once. Anthony can be getting paid to be with me and think I’m something special. One doesn’t eliminate the possibility of the other.

I have to believe that. The way he gazes down at me after we pull apart is too genuine to be faked. This man likes me, I like him, and we’re going to have an amazing week together.

And maybe we won’t have to say goodbye forever…

Maybe we’ll see each other again someday, even if I have to save up money to pay for his time. Or if that feels too weird and yucky to be an ongoing thing, we can be friends.

Stranger things have happened…probably.

Though as Anthony and I hit the shower after our delicious breakfast, it’s hard to imagine being just friends. “Friends” isn’t a word that comes to mind when a man is pinning me against cool tile as he takes me from behind, all while murmuring how much he loves being inside me into my damp hair.

I’m so turned on, so lost in the wild pleasure he makes me feel as I come for him again, I don’t realize we forgot to use a condom until he pulls out, coming on my back in hot jets even warmer than the water pouring from the shower.

“Shit, condom,” he says, still catching his breath. “I’m so sorry, Maya. I completely forgot.”

I turn in his arms, wiping the water from his cheeks before cupping his stricken face in my hands. “It’s okay. I told you; I have an IUD. And we’ve both been tested so…it’s fine.”

He frowns harder. “No, it isn’t. This isn’t something that happens. Not unless I’m in a serious, committed relationship. I want you to know that. I take unprotected sex seriously, and I’m so sorry.”

Trying not to let myself read too much into the words, I calmly assure him again that it’s okay. But on the inside, I’m bouncing up and down on the world’s largest hope trampoline.

Maybe I really am special.

And maybe I’m not the only one thinking this is too good to be over in six more days.