23. Acting Out
23
ACTING OUT
KEATON
Waves of Sophie’s dark curls fanned out over my chest, her skin still warm against mine, our limbs entwined.
I didn’t dare move or breathe too loud or risk waking her up, because lying here like this made everything else fade away, from the brewery’s endless demands, to Melanie and her camera crew arriving today, to the ticking clock on our ninety-day deal.
Sophie shifted, stretching against me like a lazy kitty. “We have our first interview today, don’t we?”
I offered only a reluctant grunt. “Unfortunately.”
She cracked one eye open. “Don’t sound so thrilled.”
“I’d rather spend the morning driving you wild until my jaw locks than explain to Melanie how blissful we are.”
A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. “We could do both. Multitasking is an excellent management skill to possess.”
Her voice dropped low, teasing, and she looked at me as though she knew I’d bend to her every whim.
I flipped her under me before she could blink, and kissed her until we were both breathless, stopping only because the crew would arrive by ten and Sophie still needed time to choose one of her stunning dresses that always set my pulse racing. As for me, I needed coffee and a prayer—my to-do list was a mile long, and I couldn’t afford to lose time.
Business had surged since our wedding weekend aired. The new logo, the Fall flavors Sophie painstakingly named—The Hoppy Camper and Pumpkin Pleasure—and the slow-burn online attention, all contributed to our success.
I had a brilliant woman in my bed every night and was living exactly the life I’d always wanted. So why did I still feel on edge, as if it could all slip away at any moment?
Melanie set up the cameras on the brewery’s sunlit patio. Jessa had scrubbed every surface until it gleamed, and Sophie—always three steps ahead—handled the PR prep like the pro she was. Today she wore a navy silk dress that hugged every curve; I matched her in a dark blue polo and khakis.
When we had a quiet moment, she straightened my collar, winked, and whispered,
“You’re gorgeous, my handsome husband.”
“You are exquisite,” I replied, my voice rough with want. “I’d like to find a place where I can unzip you out of that dress.”
She fluttered her lashes. “Meet me in your office after this, and I’ll give you a prize.”
“Is this a fun little game you’re playing today?”
“Maybe,” she finished with a coy smile as Melanie called for us.
The segment started light: favorite date nights, how we met, what we admired in each other—all safely PG. I’d perfected my camera smile; she gave me that adoring look that made every word feel real. Under the table, our fingers laced, and her gentle squeeze felt like thunder in my chest. For a moment, I forgot it was part of the show—it felt undeniably authentic.
Acting, as a former passion of mine, never happened so easily as it did living as a husband to Sophie.
Then Melanie’s grin sharpened, revealing herself as the shark she was. “There’s chatter online—fans speculating this marriage is purely business. What would you say to those people?”
I tensed. Sophie blinked, then smoothed her expression so fast I nearly missed it.
“I’d say they are partially correct. We met through our work and became friends,” she started.
“We’re still working together toward some pretty lofty goals. But it’s like finding the perfect team. Once you have it, you never let them go. Our lives are a blend of work and romance. It suits us.”
“How sweet. Now, the other day, I came across one of Keaton’s biggest fan clubs online. Looking further into it, I discovered someone we know actually started it,” Melanie said, gaze flicking toward Sophie. “Want to tell Keaton, or shall I?”
Sophie’s breath caught; her grip on my hand tightened. I already knew about it, as she told me in Vegas, but dread pooled in my gut about how devious Melanie was to bring this up on camera.
Slowly, Sophie exhaled. “I admit that I had set up a fan page when Brewed for Love first aired. Just like the rest of America, I had a crush on you then, but I haven’t touched the club much in ages—it runs on autopilot now with group moderators.”
“You started a fan club for me?” I played along for the drama Melanie so desperately needed, even though Sophie had already admitted to this. I held her gaze, the rest of the world fading away.
I should’ve been mad when I first heard about it. Hell, I should’ve been worried that she was a serious stalker. But I knew her heart. All I could think about was that this smart, driven, complicated woman had liked me before I even knew she existed.
“You had a crush on me from the beginning?” I insinuated.
She flushed. “Of course I did. You were charming in a broody, bearded kind of way.”
I smirked. “So this wedding, the branding—was it all a long con to get into my pants?”
Her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile, but wasn’t sure if she should. “I didn’t plan it, Keaton. None of it. It just happened.”
I leaned in close, brushing my lips against hers. “I’m glad it did.”
“And cut!” Melanie called. “Perfect mix of sweetness and drama.” She praised us for once. Which had me suspicious of her. “Not bad. Now we’ll get some photos and B-roll footage of both of you at work, plus some hometown footage from Holly Creek.”
“That’s it? Do you think she’s hiding something else she intends to attack us with later?” Sophie muttered as we stood.
“Probably. But let’s focus on the moment—and deal with Melanie’s surprises another time,” I said. I was more concerned with getting my wife into my office.
Once the crew left, I gave specific instructions to Jessa to leave us alone for at least an hour. She shook her head and muttered how she didn’t get paid enough to work while the boss got busy with his wife.
“I’m about due for a raise, you know,” she yelled after us and laughed.
I locked us in my office. Her hand curled around my neck, pulling me to her. The kiss became urgent, deep, and hungry. It was all an act in front of the cameras, but the rest of this was very real. I pressed her against the back of the door and kissed her until she forgot her own name.
“Mm. Keaton. Good boy. Now it’s time for your reward. Have a peek under my dress.” She bit her lip and didn’t have to beg.
Without losing eye contact, my hands caressed up her thighs and reached her core and—felt nothing. No scraps of fabric or strings or thongs. “Fuck me. You went into this interview with no panties on?”
“Hm-hmm. Surprised?”
“Pleasantly. Do you know I have a fantasy about taking you on top of my desk?”
“What’s stopping you?”
I cupped the back of her neck, slammed my lips on hers, and backed us up to my desk. “Yes, baby. Lean over. I’m going to give it to you so good.”
When she did, I flipped her skirt up, revealing her perfect, curvaceous ass. I caressed every inch of her creamy skin. My cock pulsed as I stepped in behind her, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding down to tease where she was already slick and ready for me, moaning and responsive to my touch.
I unzipped, letting my pants fall to the floor, and slid the head of my cock between her folds, coating myself in her heat. Then I froze.
“Dammit, I forgot to replenish the condom in my wallet.”
A funny guffaw escaped her lips. “Good to know you don’t keep any in the office. I’m on the pill, Keaton. We can go without.”
I offered a silent prayer to the hops gods for this woman. “You sure, Mrs. Kingston?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Kingston.” Her voice was thick with want.
“You’re going to ruin me.”
She looked over her shoulder, flushed and breathless, a wicked little smile on her lips. “That’s the plan.”
That was all I needed.
I sank in, slow and deep, her tight walls welcoming me completely. The way her hands gripped the edge of the desk brought me secret pleasure. Without a barrier between us, we became even more intimately familiar.
The desk creaked beneath us, my hips finding a punishing rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart. Her moans turned raw and ragged.
Every sound she made, every time she gasped my name—it all chipped away at the line between pretend and real.
“So tight. So mine,” I growled, reaching around to circle her clit.
“Yours,” she gasped, rocking back to meet each thrust. “God, Keaton, don’t stop,” she begged.
We burned together like a wildfire, too far gone to let anything snuff us out. No other care in the world but our connection. And when she shattered around me, crying out my name, I followed right after—spilling into her with a groan that shook loose every doubt I’d ever had about us.
For a long moment, we simply clung to each other, breathless and trembling. I’d never been so satisfied—never felt another woman like this. What was Sophie doing to me—consciously or otherwise—ruining me forever from ever wanting another?
I grabbed a few tissues and gently cleaned her up.
She straightened, smoothing her dress down with her hands, and faced me.
“I think we just made the office a lot more productive,” she teased, cheeks still flushed.
“I’ll never see this desk the same way again.” I cupped her face and kissed her softly. “I have tons of work to do and visions of you bent over, grabbing onto my desk, will be a distraction all day.”
“Gripe all you want, broody brew master. You know you wouldn’t change a thing.” She playfully swatted my rump as I ushered her to the door.
“Nope. I wouldn’t.” Except one thing. In the momentary quiet space of my mind, I vowed to give her every reason to stay—despite the ticking clock. “I probably won’t be home for dinner.”
“That’s fine. Maisy made me promise to see her tonight and tell her all about our time with Melanie today. Don’t forget, though, you have a rain check to fulfill later tonight in bed,” she reminded me of my earlier promise.
“You be naked in bed waiting for me, and I’ll be there.”
“It’s a deal.” She traced my jaw with her fingertips, playing through the new beard forming there. Something passed between us—an unspoken promise more powerful than words. My body ached for hers, my heart ached for something I wasn’t ready to name. All I knew was I wanted more: mornings and nights, messy fights, lazy Sunday afternoons.
Only I said nothing. Couldn’t speak around my heart filling up. Instead, I kissed her, acting as if she already belonged to me. Maybe in my heart, she already did.