Chapter 10
Theo
I’m not sure if it’s the adrenalin of having had the balls to pitch Dad, or the fact that he seemed open to what I had to say, or the fact that Nora’s staring up at me as if I’m a genius, but it bloody well feels great.
All of it.
‘That was amazing,’ she tells me. Maybe it’s because she’s such a tough audience, but being praised by Nora Wilder is a head rush.
‘I don’t know—he seemed to listen. That’s as good as it gets with Dad.’
‘You did a great job. You made sense, and he may be the founder, but I’m sure you know far more about what people our age want than he does. I’m telling you, I’d give you my billions if I had them.’
She gives me a beautiful smile. She’s sweet when she’s fangirling.
And this red dress of hers, while being utterly appropriate (I don’t think Nora has an inappropriate bone in her body) is pretty damn sweet too.
It skims her curves in a way that’s begging for me to slide my hand around her shapely waist.
I’ve been in business mode so far this evening, my anxiety over getting some traction, somewhere, with someone in this fucking company.
But now I’m high on Dad throwing me the tiniest bone, and I’m ready to enjoy myself.
Maybe I won’t be getting laid tonight, but my fake girlfriend is pretty easy on the eye, and as luck would have it, her ex is in my line of vision, talking earnestly to one of the board members.
I step closer to Nora and return her smile. Give into the temptation and slip my hand over the indent of her waist. My thumb slides over the jut of her hipbone and, for some reason, it feels intimate. There’s the faintest ridge of her underwear through her dress.
‘I’d take your billions,’ I tell her, ‘but given I can see Jonathan over there—no, don’t look—I’ll settle for a kiss. You game?’
I’ve been thinking about how to do this. Obviously, it looks more convincing if we’re spontaneous, but Nora’s not the kind of girl you dive on without permission. Not if you value your balls. So a short-notice warning seems like the best way to go.
Her face is upturned, those huge eyes widen, and she swallows, giving me a little nod of permission.
I can’t help smiling. She may not be a real conquest—the irony of the fact that my kiss should draw her further into the arms of another man if all goes to plan is not lost on me—but right now, standing in this crowded room with her as she grants me permission to kiss her, she feels like one.
This is a first for me. I kiss women all the time, without thinking about it, but sex is always the end game, whether I kiss them in clubs or in the comfort of my living room after sending them a you up? text. I can’t remember the last time I kissed someone without it ending in sex.
Until now.
The objective of this kiss is completely outside of the arena of my getting lucky, but it’s a point of pride that I want to make it good for Nora, within the perimeters of what’s allowed. Piss off her ex. But don’t freak her out. And don’t disgrace myself in front of the family.
Excellent.
My sobriety adds to my hyper-awareness. I can’t lose myself in this kiss. Not that I would. Obviously. But as I hold eye contact with Nora and she licks her lips a tiny bit, there’s an answering flicker in my groin. She’s gorgeous. This isn’t a hardship.
None of this ruse with her has been a hardship. Yet.
I stick my glass on the table next to us and relieve her of her glass, too. My free hand slides around her neck, my thumb stroking down her jaw and levering her face up towards me. And I lower my mouth to hers.
My instinct is to pull her to me. To crash our lips together.
Drive hers open with my tongue. But I’m being a good boy tonight.
And besides, devouring her would put me in a whole world of trouble.
I do not need a boner at Mum and Dad’s nice work party.
Even if we’re off to the side of the bar in a semi-private corner.
Private enough for this not to be inappropriate, but visible enough that her ex can see us.
Her lips are soft under mine. Warm. Pliable.
Despite myself, I slide my hand around the back of her neck and do what I’ve been wanting to do, and get a good grip on her hair as I gently suck on the plump perfection of her lower lip.
She arches into me and her breasts press against me, which I take as a pretty damn clear sign that we’re off to a good start.
I tug harder on her hair, the silky masses of it sliding through my fingers, as I change the angle of our mouths up.
And then it happens. Her lips relax and open up, just a tiny amount, but enough that when I slide my top lip between them, it connects with the faintest touch of her tongue.
I was not expecting that.
I’m like a teenager. Having expected to get no more than a peck, getting a tint of tongue is like hitting third base when you’ve resigned yourself to above-the-waist action only.
But still. I mentioned I value my crown jewels.
So I murmur against her mouth. ‘This okay?’
She nods. ‘Mmm-hmm.’ Her voice is low. Husky.
Fuck yes.
Nora Wilder is granting me access to that sweet, sharp little mouth of hers.
The hand on her waist slides further, pulling her in flush to me as I fist the hair at the back of her neck more firmly and tug her head to one side, opening up her mouth with my tongue.
She puts up no resistance. On the contrary, one hand bears down on the back of my neck, tugging our faces closer together, and the other grips my bicep for dear life.
My tongue finds hers, and they tangle. Dance. Explore. She tastes like champagne and heaven, and when I rotate my head, switching up the angle and lightly catching her tongue between my teeth, a low moan from her reverberates through me.
This is great. This is really fucking great.
Like I said, faking this thing with Belle is no hardship at all.
I want to slide my hand down and cup her arse. Hard. I want to back her into the wall. Toy with the zip at the top of her dress.
Fuck. I want to take her home. Continue this in privacy away from the Charles Montagues and Jonathan Holmes of the world. But there’s no way in hell Nora’ll go for that, beyond using me for a lift back to hers, where she’ll shut the door firmly in my face.
So, in an epic and uncharacteristic act of self-preservation, I pull away.
I can’t deny I’m a little fucking smug. And when I look down at her, I’m even more smug.
And pretty turned on. Her chest is heaving and those big, beautiful eyes are glassy.
It looks like I wasn’t the only one who had fun faking it.
I keep my tone casual. ‘Was that all right?’
‘Yeah.’ She wipes her mouth. ‘It was fine.’
‘Fine.’
‘Yeah. Like, good. Fine. Whatever. I’m glad you didn’t kiss me the way you kissed me at uni; then we would have been in trouble.’
Gah! What the hell? I thought that kiss was pretty good. Far more family-friendly than my usual efforts, but there was, you know, heat. Chemistry. But now I’m desperate to remember what she clearly remembers.
She breaks my train of thought. ‘Did he see?’
‘Who?’
‘Jonathan. Did he see us kiss?’
‘Oh.’ Fuck’s sake. ‘I dunno.’ I look over her shoulder and he’s standing stock still. Staring at us. Triumph at getting one over on him trumps my chagrin at her fine comment. I can’t resist a small smirk. New girlfriend or no new girlfriend, he looks pissed. Off.
‘Oh, yeah. He saw.’
I glance back down at her and she flushes. Something flits across her face. She straightens up, shakes her hair back.
‘Good.’
Contrary to what I thought, it looks like I was the only one who got sucked into that kiss, then.