Chapter 22 #2
“I picked up on every shade in your eyes when you and I escaped the birthday party and spent some time together talking in the Hamptons,” I say. “It’s the first thing I noticed about you. Do you want to know what the second thing was?”
She nods.
“Come a little closer.”
She scoots over.
“Your hair.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m hardly the first blonde you’ve ever met.”
“You’re not, but your blonde hair looked soft as silk.”
“The other blondes didn’t have soft hair?”
“Not as soft as yours.”
“And you could assess that without even touching my hair?”
“I have a keen eye.”
She bites against her lower lip, suppressing a smile.
“And that’s the third thing I noticed about you.”
She frowns. “What?”
“Your lips. That bright pink lipstick you were wearing in the Hamptons made it nearly impossible for me to tear my eyes away from your luscious mouth.”
Surprise and shock are written all over her gorgeous face. “My, Mr. Lindstrom, you were coveting another man’s girl.”
I arch a brow. “I had the inside scoop your ex-boyfriend’s mother was going to give you the boot the very next day because you weren’t made of fine hockey legend stock.”
She gasps. “You didn’t admit to this when I told you the story.”
I shrug. “I had planned on taking that secret to the grave, but now that we’re in a fake relationship, it’s important for me to be honest with you.”
“Ah, your conscience got the better of you.”
“Something like that.”
I tangle a strand of blonde hair around my finger. “I get to confirm my theory. Your hair is as soft as silk.”
Heavy lidded eyes stare at me from behind dark lashes.
I let go of her hair and run my thumb along her lower lip that still retains a faint stain of red lipstick.
Her lips part and her breath hitches.
“You know what just occurred to me?”
She shakes her head.
“We didn’t practice kissing. That’s irresponsible of us. People in relationships kiss.”
“There are rules to fake dating,” she says. “In all the books I’ve read, practicing the kiss is a pivotal moment in the story.”
“Is that so?”
She responds with an enthusiastic nod.
“So, if I wanted to extend our arrangement, we’d have to practice. It’s part of the rules of fake dating.”
Curiosity glimmers in her eyes. “Why would you want to extend our arrangement?”
“Active Kids holds a charity lunch the day after the evening gala to sponsor kids from lower income homes who have a chance at the Olympics.”
“And you want me to show up as your fake girlfriend?”
“That’s why I’m attempting to renegotiate our arrangement.”
“Will the press be there?”
“Of course.”
“Why would there be PDA?”
“Remember, it’s an image makeover. I’m supposed to be more approachable.”
“I dunno, mister. Sounds to me like this urgent need to practice kissing is more self-serving than to sway the press’s opinion to see Kaz Lindstrom no longer as the beast on and off the ice, but rather Kaz Lindstrom, the man so taken by his fake girlfriend, he can’t keep his hands off her.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“You’re kinda greedy.”
“I’ve been called worse, Goldilocks.”
She smiles. “Did you select my nickname because I’m a book girlie?”
“I selected your nickname because you’re the naive, blonde who moves in with the big bad bear—the big bad bear and Goldilocks.”
She places the back of her hand against her forehead. “Save me. Please, save me from the big bad bear. And oh, if someone could tell me what happened to the other two bears, I’d appreciate it.”
“Drama queen.”
She drops out of her pose, doe eyes trained on me. “As your fake girlfriend, it’s important for me to have a range of emotions at the ready.”
“Are you saying yes to accompanying me tomorrow?”
“I’m saying yes to helping a good cause.”
She’s full of shit, but I’ll play along. “The altruism in you is remarkable.”
“Altruism is easy when the big donations are coming from your pocket, big guy.”
She’s as sharp as a whip.
I slide on the couch until her bent leg touches my thigh.
I lean in and wait for a beat.
When she doesn’t protest, I’m on her.
The urge to crush her to me and claim her pretty little mouth with my own is all-encompassing, but I will myself to be patient. I kiss her chin.
One touch.
One simple touch, and I’m hard as steel.
One defining touch that stomps all over the borders I’ve forced myself to respect since she’s moved in with me.
Eager to devour every sinful inch of this woman, I resume my mission and kiss along her jaw, before crawling down the length of her slender neck. She moans and extends her neck, giving me better access.
She wants this as much as I do.
I’ve obsessed over taking ownership of this woman for so long. Finally, my fantasy becomes reality.
A heady rush shoots straight to my brain, as potent as a shot of cocaine.
Her skin is warm, soft, and supple, just the way I’ve imagined it to be in my wet dreams. My hand slides down the length of her body and my fingers slide underneath the edge of her jeans shorts. I splay my hand around her thigh and squeeze.
“Oh, God, Kaz.” Her deep raspy voice comes out breathy.
My heart thumps to the same beat as the deafening march of stallions in my ears. “Fuck, Harley, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear my name on your lips as I bring you pleasure.” Softening my touch, I caress the inside of her thigh.
Heavy lidded eyes stare at me.
A feral monster ignites inside me and roars to life.
Enough teasing—
Her phone rings.
I groan.
I pull back and cup her face in my hands. “Ignore it.”
Her green eyes flare as her grip on my shirt tightens. “Okay.” Her breath is shallow and slow.
The phone stops ringing.
Good.
Back to the program.
It rings again.
Fuck.
She turns her face in the cradle of my hands to check her screen. Her body stiffens.
My gaze shifts to the offending device sitting on the coffee table and I catch a name flashing at me.
A. Monte Cristo.
She places both hands against my chest and pushes away from me.
Harley’s pale skin turns as red as a tomato.
Concern— No, terror is flashing in her doe eyes.
She went from hot and bothered to petrified in a heartbeat.
“Who’s calling you?” I have no business being this nosy, but something is up.
She shifts in her seat, pulls her legs against her body, and cradles them.
“Harley?”
She stares at the device like it’s a nuclear weapon.
“Who’s trying to reach you? An ex-boyfriend?”
She shakes her head.
Her phone rings for a third time.
A shadow of something passes over her face.
I frown. “Maybe you should answer.”
Her hand trembles as she reaches for the phone and accepts the call. “Give me a minute.” She gets up from the couch, lowers the phone to her side, and looks down at me. “I’m…” She clears her throat. “I don’t want to bother you, so I’ll take this call upstairs in the guest room.”
“It doesn’t bother me if you stay down here.” I want to know who the fuck A. Monte Cristo is.
“It’s best if I go upstairs.” She points to the ceiling.
My jaw clenches.
The energy in the air has shifted so dramatically, it’s giving me whiplash.
An alarm bell goes off in my head.
“Are you in some sort of trouble, Harley?”
She shakes her head, sending blonde hair flying all over the place.
I’m not convinced. “You can be upfront with me.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
I shoot her a dubious gaze.
She offers a tight smile.
Despite the way her explanation makes unease flare in my gut, I let it go. “Okay.”
She bolts out of the living area and runs up the stairs.
I rest my back against the couch and let my head fall backward.
I inhale and let out a long breath.
She’s lying to me.