18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Jacob
I will never forget tonight as long as I live. Because I swear, nothing will ever compare to this enchanted evening.
The waves, the lights, the music…
That kiss.
I know we’re supposed to be pretending, but that didn’t feel like pretend.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt a kiss so real and raw before in my life, and I am a professional date, for God’s sakes!
Aaron was a perfect date. From the opening of my car door to his hand in mine as we walked the beach, to dancing to Taylor Swift, to kissing me while the sun set…
It was absolutely perfect. He is absolutely perfect.
I look at him in the light of the car as we head back to the beach house. It’s late and I know we’re both tired as fuck and we’re going to crash when we get back.
And with every second, we get closer to that crash. To the one bed trope.
I know realistically if I asked him to, he’d crash somewhere else. This house is certainly big enough, but I also know that would look weird, considering we’re supposed to be dating seriously.
But I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t want to sleep with him. Literally. As in, fall asleep next to him.
But I would also be lying if I said I didn’t want to sleep with him in the obvious sense, too.
That’s the problem, though. I do want Aaron. In ways I shouldn’t because he’s a client and is paying me an exorbitant amount to play house with him. But the more I get to know him, the deeper I fall. Because that’s how it always goes, right? In the books, I mean.
It’s a classic trope—the fake relationship that turns into a real relationship when no one’s looking.
But my life’s not some romance novel, and no matter how much I enjoy this fantasy of being the main character for once, nothing will change the truth.
Aaron is not my boyfriend.
But for the moment, I’ll pretend that he is.
That he could be.
That in a perfectly written tale, the millionaire hotel heir ends up with the ex-stripper turned rent-a-date he hired and falls in love with him and they live happily ever after.
A guy can dream, right?
When we pull up to the house, I realize the inevitable moment has arrived. For a second, we sit there, the car off. Aaron gets up first to open my door.
When we get inside, the house is dark and I know everyone is asleep. You can feel it in the eerie stillness.
Yet even though there’s no one to see us, Aaron grabs my hand and pulls me into him. He kisses me, and I don’t fight it.
I kiss him back, just as I have several times tonight, because I can’t help but feel like it’s the most natural, easiest thing in the world.
What is the intent here?
Lola’s questions reverberate in my brain.
What does Jackson want?
“I had a great time tonight,” I say as I break away. Aaron grins. “Me too, baby.”
I glance up at him. I know he’s only doing this—calling me baby, taking me out, kissing me—becauseit’s part of the act, building comfort so we can be authentic or appear authentic.
But the way he’s looking at me right now, I want to believe it’s more.
His fingers brush mine softly as he tugs my hand.
I let him lead me down the hall, the shadows falling on us both like some sort of blessing.
When we get to his room, he carefully shuts the door and turns the light on.
I stand there for a moment, thinking about my answer, about my character’s intent. Well, my intent, seeing as my book isn’t real.
But my story definitely is.
What do I want? I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure.
When I agreed to come on this trip, to do this job, I thought it was just about the money.
But I also promised Noah I’d enjoy myself, because he was right.
As much as I hate to admit that. This experience—spending seven days with Aaron and his family —I am enjoying it.
Even though it’s only been a day, I have a feeling the remaining ones are going to be just as perfect. And I think that's another problem.
Because I like them , too. Aaron’s family. And spending this time with them makes me miss my own family.
I haven’t seen my mom in ages, mostly because I’ve been booked solid for months and she’s been traveling in Europe with her boyfriend.
After the divorce, things were rough between her and my dad.
Noah took it pretty hard, but things got better when dad moved away with his girlfriend and when mom found Cruz.
They’ve been together for a couple years now.
I’m not sure what the intent is there, the end game.
But I know mom’s happy, so I try not to worry about it the way Noah does.
But being here with Aaron’s family—well, I guess I can kind of pretend they’re my family too, under the guise of my persona, Prince Charming. For a few days, anyway.
Aaron removes his shirt, carefully folding it and setting it on top of the dresser. I watch the way his shoulder muscles cord together, watch as he slowly unbuckles his belt. I feel frozen. Unable to move or tear my gaze from him.
He looks up at me, his hands halfway on his belt.
“You okay?”
“You ask me that a lot,” I say, removing my shirt. I don’t miss the way his gaze flashes to my chest.
“Because I want to make sure you are okay. With this.” He returns to his belt as I work on my own pants, my heart in my damn throat.
“With me. And what we’re doing.”
I watch as he shoves his pants down and steps out of them. The light cast shadows on his body, on his pronounced erection.
“I am,” I say solidly. “Okay with this. What we’re doing. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I wasn’t.”
I watch as he saunters away and turns off the light before he turns on his bedside lamp. It gives just enough light for me to see him, to see the covers as I pull them down slowly, settling into them.
He pulls the covers down on his side, then looks at me.
“For the record,” I start. “If you want me to be okay, stop acting like we’re walking on glass,” I say honestly. “I’m your boyfriend, right? Just pretend that I really am. Pretend that this is the most normal thing, because it is.”
I hear the stupid fucking hope in my voice, and I hate that I don’t hate it as much as I should.
Because it feels like what I’m asking is dangerous.
For both of us. Yes, I want us to put on an Oscar-worthy performance that Meryl Streep would lose her mind over, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to bask in the fantasy of what it’s like to be his.
I take a step towards the bed and then another until I’m slowly crawling in. Aaron licks his lips. He hesitates.
“I’m trying,” he says softly. “But it’s harder than I thought it would be.”
His voice is guilty. Sad, even. I hate it. I hate hearing that voice tinged with melancholy, and I hate that I might be contributing to it in some way.
“Are you?” I ask, fixing my gaze on him.
“Am I what?” His voice is thick.
“Okay? With what we’re doing?” I blame my tiredness for my bluntness, and as I start to worry about the fact I’ve said too much, Aaron nods as he gets in beside me.
“Yes.” He looks at me with that deep brown gaze, holding me still. There’s a modicum of space between us, but it feels more vast than what it actually is.
I scoot closer, seeking his warmth. It’s cold on my side. He definitely notices, but he doesn’t say anything.
I know I should feel awkward, or even a little apprehensive right now, but the truth is I don’t. I feel comfortable in a way I haven’t felt in a long time, and I know it’s not just the fact this bed is soft and warm and like a damn cloud.
He scoots closer, draping one arm over my hip. He tugs me closer, and I let him, liking the feel of his palm on my skin.
“This okay?” he whispers. I nod.
“Cuddling is definitely okay,” I say with a tired laugh. I snuggle into his hold, noting the smile on his face as I do so. His hold tightens as he rubs my side.
“If it wasn’t, I would tell you.” I implore his gaze, needing him to understand. “Trust that if I ever feel uncomfortable, I’ll tell you, okay?”
I lean into his space, bringing our bodies closer together as I settle my hand on his hip, feeling his warm skin. It’s not lost on me that we’ve been here before, but before it was a rush. A heat of the moment thing. We were drunk and having fun.
Now we’re both sober and there’s nothing or no one to blame for the mistakes I’m going to inevitably make.
He leans his face towards mine as my leg slips through the opening between his.
“Okay,” he whispers.
His gaze flashes to my lips, his hand on my hip soft and warm where it rests. I know what he wants and a part of me knows I should just tell him good night. I should leave things at this before they get blurry again.
I should just close my eyes and let sleep take me because I am tired. It’s been a long day, and I’m pretty sure he would understand. He looks beat, too.
But I also know he’s been touching me and kissing me all day. And not just in front of other people, but when we’re alone, so I don’t know why he’s holding back now. And I realize, all at once, I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to hold back from me.
Maybe it’s the entirety of this situation or maybe it’s just being here—in Madison Park, with him—or maybe it’s just the last few years finally catching up to me in a way I can’t ignore, but whatever it is, and whatever the reason, I don’t fight it.
“Aaron,” I whisper, leaning into his space. My lips ghost his as I flash my gaze up at him. I press our bodies together, the feel of his solid chest smooth against mine. His hand on my hip moves slowly, caressing my skin as he licks his lips.
“Hmm?” His voice is deep, content. I note the way his gaze hasn’t left my mouth.
“Kiss me.” I trail my fingers up his body, up his arm, and lay my hand across his neck. His pulse races beneath my touch and I like that. I like that a lot.
Aaron smirks.
“Is that an order, little prince?” he asks, his voice tinged in sleep and humor.
“Or a request?”
My lips pull up in the corner, a soft smile grazing my lips. “Both.”