Chapter Thirty-Six #2
I can’t catch my breath. This is…this is hot. One of his hands settles on the bareness of my thigh where my sundress rides up. And his hard gaze dives into me, searching me at rapid, unrelenting speed.
My legs dangle on either side of his waist, and I almost, almost wrap them around him. I almost bring him closer. I’m clutching his arms in a death grip. My heart is pounding out of my rib cage.
Then my eyes dart to Grace and her friend, who’ve settled back in theater seats. They’re texting hurriedly on their phones.
Rocky pinches my chin and turns my head, forcing my attention on him.
I slap his hand away. He clutches my cheek more fiercely, showing me it’s okay. His eyes practically ram each word inside me. It. Is. Okay. We can be physically affectionate out in public. I touch his hand against my face, not shoving him aside this time.
This can’t be happening.
I did wake up this morning, right? And why is it so hard for me to believe that he’d choose tonight to rip away the facade? “You aren’t…”
“Yeah, I am.”
And then he bends down on one knee, his good knee, thankfully. And I nearly black out. “Rocky…” My heart accelerates to thrilling, volatile speeds—the speeds we love living at, him and me.
He reveals a velvet black box from his pocket. I half expect to see a Ring Pop inside. We’re still just pretending.
“Our lives aren’t going to fade to black.
This part is making the movie.” He opens the box, and my heart skips a beat while my eyes well and lips go wider and wider.
Overwhelmed. I am so overwhelmed, because I know this elegant gold pear-cut diamond ring.
He’s already slipped it on my finger before.
In Miami.
The only time we went through the steps to have a fake wedding.
It came right after the Melon Drop in Nashville, and I’d never been more head over heels for Rocky than when we pretended to get married.
Our relationship, whatever we could really call it, had never been so all-consuming, adrenalinefueled, and messy. Just how I loved it.
I remember how a sexy silk wedding dress dripped down my body, but his eyes had been on mine the entire night. I wished for that job to never end, for the fantasy to play out for eternity.
We did all the stupidly romantic newlywed things. Cut the five-tiered cake. Smeared a line of buttercream on his cheek. He retaliated with one down my lips. We were supposed to be a young, playful, crazy-in-love couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
We teased and taunted. He grazed his fingers up my thigh, just to slip off the lacy white garter, and it felt like I was being touched for the first time.
Shivers ran up my body. I lit up in my own skin—I only ever lit up with his hands, with him.
I wanted to chase after those electric touches all night long.
I could. We were married.
The after-party led us to an exclusive Miami club.
Our fake friends were there, but so were our real ones: Hailey and my brothers.
I remember being in the dance pit with Rocky.
Grinding, breathing heavy, kissing. His hands all over me.
My hands all over him. The strobe lights stroking our sweaty bodies, and I never wanted to let go of that feeling with him.
But I did.
We did.
My feelings lived inside every job with Rocky, and every job had an ending. The fantasy popped, only to be built into a new one. He was my stepbrother. We were college dormmates. Strangers. Coworkers.
But here, in this town, he’s just my Rocky. I’m just his Phoebe. And our relationship has never been so real.
“Phoebe,” he says, his soul-burning eyes never leaving mine. “Marry me again.”
The squeals and applause around us have my ears ringing. I can barely even hear myself say, “Yes,” but Rocky knows. He’s standing, slipping the gorgeous ring on my finger for the second time.
His lips rise.
A smile spreads across my face. The secrets we share nestle affectionately in my body. I ease backward from him, just a little. “If you want it, come and get it,” I taunt.
His large hand cocoons the side of my face. He slides those same fingers into my hair, raking them against my scalp. Then he yanks my head backward and whispers hotly against my ear, “I’ve already gotten it.”
My heady, drunk-in-love smile bursts inside me, and he pulls me tighter against his strong build—his lips on mine in an erupting kiss. It explodes my senses.
Marry me again.
I’m stifling a moan, melting into Rocky’s possessive, demolishing kisses.
His tongue slips sensually against mine, and I kiss as fervently back, curving my arm around his neck.
Then Rocky cups the backs of my thighs and hoists me off the chair.
I meld against his firm chest while we make out like we’re fighting for oxygen.
If my fake relationship with Jake was chaste and PDA-free, my real public one with Rocky is going to be next-level raunchy.
I smile into the sultry kiss.
I’m already obsessed with this.
“Get a room!” a teenager shouts, and Rocky flips him off while we’re lip-locked. As the passionate seconds burn into minutes, I sense we’ve cleared the theater. It doesn’t stop us. But me scrounging for breath does.
As he lowers me, I slide down his body. The bottoms of my strappy white heels thump to the popcorn-littered ground. Rocky tugs down my cherry-red dress, which bunched on my descent.
My lips sting like he’s still on them, and I intake a big breath to stop panting. “Just to let you know,” I say, “you might be remarrying the town’s newest Victoria’s Sweetheart. I heard I’m in the running for the annual competition.”
“Yeah?” He soaks in my haughty smile. “Tricked the whole town into thinking you’re a sweetheart? How’s that crown of lies sitting?”
“Like victory.” I clutch the seat behind me, my face so flush seeing his smile. “But to warn you, you also might be with the callous bitch of Victoria. I’m sure some Jake defenders will wish I ended up with him.”
“I’m the real callous bitch.”
“Trying to steal my reputation?”
He lets out a tight laugh, glances behind me in short thought, then drops his eyes to mine. “I’ve loved the heartbreaker of Malibu, the virgin of Manhattan, the angel of Boston, the slut of Las Vegas—you think I wouldn’t love the bitch of Victoria?”
“Rocky,” I whisper out, the sudden declaration of love pummeling me, even after he just proposed.
He holds my face again, his thumb caressing my cheek. “I’ve loved you in every way, in every fucking place. But this place is getting the best of my love.”
I can barely breathe again. “Why’s that?”
“Because it’s not confined anymore, Phebs. Everyone can see it now. You get that?”
It overwhelms me. “Yeah,” I murmur, feeling it. “I really do.” It’s all slamming into me. Strength surges inside my full lungs. “We were taught deceit is the most powerful tool, but the truth hasn’t made me feel weak.”
He looks me over. “What do you feel?”
“Indestructible. Loving you loudly might become my new favorite obsession.”
His slow-rising smile crawls across his mouth. “Try not to come so hard in the street when you scream my name.”
I glare. “Not that loudly.”
He laughs and brings me closer to his chest, nestling a kiss into my hair. I stare down at my hand, the diamond ring, and my eyes glass all over again.
He never sold this ring. He held on to it for four years. And he says he’s not sentimental over things.
Liar.