IGNACIO
* * *
I’m going to hell for this—or at least a thousand years in purgatory. She’s my employee. This is wrong on every level imaginable. But her lips are soft and warm. My own lips are locked shut, though, and I’m keeping things friendly by keeping it shut, talking to her against her mouth. This is just for show.
“Ith he still wooking?” I mumble into the very closed-mouth, very fake kiss. I’d make a terrible ventriloquist.
I shift my body an inch or two so she can get a good view behind me. She glances over, wide-eyed and blushing fiercely.
“Mmmhmm.”
“Err woo nokay? Em e mecken woo contonton?”
She giggles into my lips. “What?”
I open my lips, just enough to speak, but still brushing against hers—for authenticity purposes, of course.
“I said, are you okay? Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Her cheeks burn red, and her eyes flash bright. “Oh. No, not at all. I uh, appreciate the gesture.”
Reaching up with my free hand, I glide my palm under her jaw, the tips of my fingers dipping into her downy-soft hair.
“What’s he doing now?” I ask, secretly hoping he’s still watching us so we can keep up this ruse. How pathetic am I that a fake kiss is the only action I’ve gotten in over four years?
“He’s uh…” her eyes dart over my shoulder and back again. “Standing next to his car. Arguing, it looks like.”
“And is he still looking this way?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice a little shaky. “They both keep glancing over here.”
“It’s working, then.”
“What’s working?”
“Making him jealous. Making her jealous is just a bonus.”
“Is this how you take care of all your employees?”
“Only the ones wearing candy cane leggings.”
I hear the swish of footsteps dragging along the gravel of the parking lot. A cheating d-bag would be the type of guy to drag his feet when he walks.
The blonde he’s with calls to him, “Where are you going?”
“He’s coming over here. Why is he coming over here?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” I say. “Ready to put on a show?”
“A show? Aren’t we already putting on a show?”
“Just play along.” I crane her neck up, pressing her further against the car until her back arches and her hair spreads out on the window. I capture her lips, more convincing this time, angling my face so anyone within viewing distance would be extremely uncomfortable to see how my mouth moves over hers, how with every pass over her lips, I’m claiming her.
“Call out my name or something,” I say, trailing my lips down to her jaw. “Pretend you’re into it.”
“Oh, okay.” She watches the progression of my mouth.
“And close your eyes.”