“So you thought you’d tell her I have a fetish for being called Daddy?” he growls as I fight to hold in my giggle.
“No. I told herIhave a fetish about callingyouDaddy, duh. Anyway, I was just doing what a real girlfriend would do.”
“Sharing our sex life with strangers?”
“No,” I groan, huffing out a breath. “Showing her I’m not affected by her whole ‘mean girl’ act.”
“By telling her about our sex life?”
“Ourpretendsex life.” I pull back to look at his face. “Which is earth-shattering, by the way.”
The tiniest twitch of his lips draws my eye. “Of course it is.”
“Good.” I grin. “Glad we agree on something. You know, you’re going to have to get better at this whole pretend thing if you want people to believe we’re a real couple.” I wiggle my ass a little, encouraging his hands to slide lower so his fingertips are touching the fullest part of its curve.
“I don’t need to feel you up in public to look like a real couple,” Reed says, the heat from his body emanating into mine and drawing out a sense of calm from deep in my chest.
“Not all the time, but sometimes, you do.”
“Really?” Amusement laces his words, and his shoulders lose some of their tension beneath my arms.
“Really.” I reach one hand up and stroke the thick, silky hair at the base of his skull as we dance. “If you were my real boyfriend, I would expect you to be fighting a constant battle with yourself not to touch me all the time.”
“Is that so?” His deep voice rumbles against my neck where he leans close again, while he flexes his fingers against my ass.
The sensation makes my breath hitch in my throat for a split second, catching me off guard.
Weird.
“It is so.” I press my body into his, relishing in its solid warmth. “See, we should be close when we dance, like this. Close enough that people around us can feel the desire flowing from us in waves, taste the hunger in our breath as it mixes, and see the crackle in the air from the electricity our passion for one another creates.” My words tumble out as my excitement grows. “Basically, Reed, I would expect you to look at me as if you’re recalling the way I had just ridden your face before we left home… so hard that you’d had to breathe through your ears.”
He lets out a chuckle as I giggle and continue, lowering my voice and whispering in his ear so no one around us can hear.
“Thatwould look real. Because if you’re going to be my boyfriend in public—because it’s not just me playing a role here—then I expect you to give it your all. I don’t want people looking at you all stiff and moody with your giant arms and thinking I’m this mean girlfriend that never lets you choose the channel and flushes the toilet when you’re in the shower.”
His chuckle morphs into a laugh. A rich, free one.
It’s a beautiful sound.
His chest shakes against me as we hold on to each other and dance.
“I’m a really nice girlfriend. I mean, I think I am. It’s been a while since anyone can corroborate. But I’d like to think that’s how we would look together if this was real, you know?” I lift my head from where I’ve rested it against his shoulder and look into his eyes with a questioning gaze.
“I think I can manage that. I don’t want people to think I have a girlfriend who threatens to use her teeny tiny scissors on mylittlebranch.” His eyes are glittering and dark as he watches me, his lips curled into a breathtaking smile.
I drop my mouth open in protest. “I did not threaten. I merely explained their abilities. Although I’m not sure Bruce likes to share.”
“Neither do I,” he growls.
Something about his tone makes my stomach flutter.
“So who’s the prize bitch you were going to marry?” I ask, my hand still stroking the hair at the top of his neck. I’m doing it to look authentic and coupley. But it’s been there long enough to achieve that now, so I should move it.
I really should.
“I would never have married her.” He sighs, and his eyes shutter closed as I keep my fingers in his hair and trace my thumb around to his sideburns, stroking down the side of his face.
“I didn’t know you were engaged.”