Chapter 2
Two
Allison
My heart thunders in my chest. Adam just broke up with me.
I try to process my feelings about that, but they’re a jumbled mess. I know I’m not upset about the breakup itself. It’s been coming for a long time. Adam and I aren’t compatible. He’s an uptight workaholic and on the rare occasions that we’re intimate, I’m bored as hell.
In fact, I felt more arousal from shaking this hot bartender’s hand than I ever did with Adam’s cock inside me. I can count the number of times we had sex in the six months we’ve been dating on one hand.
The number of orgasms? Zero.
And Adam would never have defended me from the creep at the bar the way Mitch just did. He’s probably never shoved a man in his life.
Good lord, that was hot as hell. With his take-charge attitude, I bet he’s amazing in bed.
But I can’t think of that right now. I’m in the middle of a crisis. My sister, Delia, little Miss Perfect, is having a Christmas wedding in two days. And not only was Adam supposed to be my plus-one, but my mother also now thinks we’re engaged.
What a fucking mess. How do I get myself into these situations?
I just couldn’t help myself. My mother is constantly ridiculing me for not being more like Delia. Why do you insist on teaching at a public school, Allison? You’re not a common pauper.
Never mind that I love to teach, and I’d rather support myself than rely on my rich father the way she and Delia do.
Even worse than the criticisms about my career are the things she says about my body. Goodness, Allison, you really must watch what you eat. Men don’t marry fatties, you know. Delia’s lost fifteen pounds for her wedding—and she was half your size to begin with. So, you really have no excuse…
Just once, I’d like to hold Mother down and force-feed her cake. Or even just a piece of bread. In her world, bread is the devil’s ambrosia.
I twirl a piece of hair around my forefinger and attempt to bat my eyelashes at Mitch. Flirting has never been my strong suit. “Any chance you’d be interested in being my fake fiancé for the rest of the week?”
He raises an eyebrow. “What would that entail?”
“Well, for starters, you’d have to be an orthopedic surgeon named Adam?” Pretty please, and thank you very much?
He frowns. “An orthopedic surgeon? That’s bones, right?”
I nod. “And muscles. But you don’t need to know much more than that. No one in my family’s circle will ask for details.” To them, even surgeons are beneath them. My family comes from old money. A few generations ago, my ancestor created one of the world’s largest soap companies.
Yup. Our claim to fame is bath soap. The cringey slogan, Keeping you clean is our guarantee, is well-known throughout the world. It’s the butt of many jokes and the inspiration for countless memes.
Mitch doesn’t look convinced. “You mentioned a plus one? What’s the occasion?”
I sigh. “A wedding on Christmas day. Formal attire, two hundred and fifty guests, etcetera. There’s also a rehearsal dinner that we’d have to attend.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Who has a wedding on Christmas day?”
“My narcissist sister,” I say with a shrug.
“But what about gifts from Santa on Christmas morning?”
I laugh without humor. “It’s adult only. Delia wrote a social media post explaining that she’s generously allowing parents to spend the holidays observing Santa Claus and Elf on the Shelf traditions with their children. She forgives them for prioritizing their families over her wedding.”
He whistles under his breath. “Wow.”
It suddenly occurs to me that he probably has plans with his family for Christmas and isn’t available for Delia’s wedding. “I suppose you have family obligations on Christmas yourself?”
He shakes his head. “My parents decided to take a cruise this year. They left right after Thanksgiving and won’t be back until after New Year’s. And I’m an only child.”
“So, you can do it?” I can’t hide the relief in my voice.
“I must admit that it won’t be very fun.
My family isn’t the, um, easiest to be around.
But I can pay you… just name your price.
” Despite preferring to pay my own way with my teaching salary, I do have a sizeable trust fund I can dip into.
And no price is too high for the favor I’m asking of him.
One corner of his lips twitch into a half smile. “I’ll do it for the perks alone.”
I fiddle with a straw wrapper nervously. “The perks?”
His face splits into a grin. A rather wicked grin. “The perks of being your fiancé. We’ll be sharing a hotel room, I presume?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice much squeakier than usual. “I suppose we should.”
“And a bed…?”
Is it getting warm in here? “A king-sized bed.”
He nods. “In order to be a convincing fake fiancé, we’ll need to get to know each other intimately.”
“Oh…” I say, loosening my scarf. It is definitely warm in here.
Mitch leans onto the bar so that we’re at eye level. “But first, we’ll need to make sure we’re compatible.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“A kiss.” Is his voice huskier than it was before? He looks over my head and waves at someone. “Jared! Can you cover the bar for a few minutes?”
Jared must nod in agreement, because the next thing I know, Mitch has hopped over the bar and is standing in front of me. “You and I need to step outside for a moment.”
“O-okay,” I say, reaching for my coat.
He pulls my coat away from me and drops it behind the bar. “You won’t need that.”
I won’t? But it’s December. There’s snow on the ground. “It’s freezing outside.”
“We’ll only be a few minutes… and if my kiss doesn’t warm you from your head to your toes, then we’re not compatible.” He leans down to whisper in my ear, and the heat of his breath sends a shiver down my spine. “And sweetheart, I’d bet my last dollar that we’re very compatible.”
He laces his fingers in mine and leads me to a door in the back of the restaurant. It says No Exit, but he pulls me through it to an empty alley.
He pushes me against the brick building and lowers his mouth to mine. And oh, my God, I have never been kissed like this.
He was right about the cold—I don’t feel it at all. His kiss is searing hot, heating me from the inside out. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him with reckless abandonment, using my tongue in a way that I never have before.
Normally, when I kiss a man, I’m self-conscious, lost in my own thoughts, wondering if I’m doing it right.
But there’s no thinking with Mitch. There’s just doing.
And judging by the feel of his hard cock grinding against me, I must be doing just fine.
He fumbles with the hem of my shirt with one hand, shoving a hand inside. I tremble as his fingers trail across my ribs as they move up… up… Oh, God.
He slides his hand into my bra, cupping a breast. I gasp, thrusting my chest outward to press into his palm. He kisses me even more deeply, more recklessly, moving his free hand down to grab my ass as he strokes my nipple with the other.
I feel his kiss everywhere. In the sensitive spot between my legs. Deep in my bones. Down to the depths of my very soul.
I’m powerless in his embrace. Despite the snow and the cold and the public setting, I’d let him fuck me right here, right now, without hesitation. I wouldn’t just let him… I’d beg him.
“Mitch…” I gasp. “Please…”
He pulls his mouth away from mine, trailing kisses down my jaw. “Please what?”
His soft Santa hat brushes my face, adding another layer of sensation to my already overwhelmed nervous system. When he cups both my breasts in his hands and tweaks my nipples, I whimper. “Santa…”
He chuckles, nibbling on my ear. “Are you naughty or nice?”
I moan. “I can be whatever you want.”
To my dismay, he removes his hands from beneath my shirt. I start to protest, but he cups my face in his palms and kisses me gently on the lips. Slowly, tenderly, but still just as hot.
When he pulls away, we’re both gasping. “I think we’re compatible,” he says with a chuckle. “Would you agree?”
He’s kissed me so thoroughly that my brain feels sluggish. Unable to form words, I simply nod like a bobblehead.
His face splits into a smile. “I’m going to enjoy being your fake fiancé.”