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Logan regretted getting a limo the moment Trinity Forrester spilled into the interior. If he’d driven his own car, he could have occupied himself with the steering wheel. The lack of a place to put his hands hadn’t been a factor on the way over. Now? There was entirely too much female skin right there within touching distance.

And God above, the will it took to stop himself from reaching out was monumental.

She smelled both divine and like the kind of sin that would put a man on his knees in a confessional before dawn. The paradox was driving him insane. And they hadn’t even pulled away from the curb yet.

A butterfly tattoo flashed at her wrist. It had been covered before, and he was not happy about how much he liked it. He watched as she arranged her long skirt to let her sexy shoes peek out. The heels, of course, resembled ice picks, and only tiny straps held them to her feet, making him wonder how they actually stayed on.

Even her toes were sexy.

“Rules,” he growled because he needed some. “Are—”

“Made to be broken?” she filled in sweetly.

The limo shuttled toward what promised to be a very long evening fraught with frustration and tension, most of it sexual, followed by a morning explaining to everyone he knew that he had not, in fact, lost his mind when he’d selected his companion for the evening.

“Rules are necessary so I—we—don’t forget what we’re doing here.” Though he suspected she wasn’t dealing with issues in that respect the same way he was. “Without rules, the world descends into chaos.”

“Maybe your world does. Mine just gets more interesting.”

“Case in point. The most important rule we need to establish is that behind closed doors, we’re not a couple. Only in public. And it’s not real.”

The cockeyed gaze she shot him was further enhanced by her swirly makeup. Less Cleopatra today and more Picasso. It was very distracting.

“I kind of thought all that was a given.”

“Well, that’s why it’s important to lay it out ahead of time. So there’s no confusion.” That way, there was no end-of-the-evening mix-up at the door where she invited him in for a drink, which was really code for sex, and he’d struggle to remember why he was supposed to say no.

Rules gave him that out.

And really, this is all fake was the only rule he needed. She apparently needed a few more, but he’d lost the battle over her outrageous dress and didn’t expect he’d win any others—not tonight, anyway. He’d be a hell of lot more specific the next time they appeared in public together.

Rule number two—dress like a woman dating a billionaire who owned a wholesome sports team.

In all actuality, he’d never imagined such a dress existed. Her whole back was bare, dipping low enough to give a guy a tempting glimpse of her rounded bottom. The front wasn’t much better, cinching in at the waist to reveal wide panels of her trim waist and abs, and rising over her breasts to cover her to her collarbone. Oddly, the lack of cleavage made his mouth water to unclasp the catch at the back of her neck and let the fabric spill to her hips to reveal the hard nipples tenting the fabric.

He could not get out of this vehicle fast enough.

The limo snaked toward the hotel where the charity ball was being held. When it was their turn to emerge, he got out first and held out a hand to her. He would not have been shocked if she’d refused, but this was it, their first appearance in public together since the kiss clip went viral, and they needed to make it work.

Her hand disappeared into his and he helped her from the limo, happy that she hadn’t chosen this moment for their first public fight. Photographers lined the ropes on both sides of the entrance. Instead of beelining for the door like he normally did whenever someone with a camera was around, he paused and slipped an arm around Trinity. His date, for better or worse.

He nearly groaned as his fingertips hit the silky expanse of skin at her hip bone. She might as well be wearing a swimsuit for all the coverage the dress provided. It would take no effort at all to slide his hand inside the fabric and keep going, because there was no way she was wearing underwear. He had the strongest urge to verify.

“Smile,” she hissed and snuggled into his embrace far too cozily.

Easy for her to say. She wasn’t fighting an erection.

So far, the enormous effort associated with this plan far outweighed the benefit.

A million flashes proved him wrong. More people clamored at the rope than Logan would have ever credited, and every one of them had a lens aimed in his direction. Other couples walked into the building with zero fanfare. Completely ignored.

“Told you this dress would be the ticket,” Trinity murmured out of the side of her mouth. “Trust me next time. Kiss me.”


Tags: Kat Cantrell Billionaire Romance