Faking With The Enemy: An Enemies-To-Lovers RomCom: Milestone Mischief #2

by Piper James

  Felicia stared at me with her dark eyes for a moment, then said, “It sounds like you hated his actions. But did you really hate him? Like, as a person?”

  “Isn’t it the same thing?” I asked. “Don’t a man’s actions prove who he is as a person?”

  “People make mistakes,” she said, shrugging.

  “Yeah, just like I did tonight. Getting caught up in that kiss was a huge mistake.”

  17

  Nate

  I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. As soon as I got home, I stripped and climbed into a hot shower, trying my best to think about my schedule for tomorrow, which car repairs needed to be completed, and where I might eat lunch.

  But the thought of food led my brain to my mouth, which led me right back to how delicious Ivy tasted as I licked her skin. My cock pulsed, growing uncomfortably hard, and I curled my fingers around it to help ease the ache.

  Bracing my free hand against the shower wall for support, I stroked my erection as images of Ivy played on repeat in my head. I could still feel her hand gliding up my chest, the feel of her teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

  My hand moved faster as I remembered pushing her against that wall, devouring her mouth as her hips bucked against me. Her little moans rang in my ears, and my growl echoed off the shower walls as I came. Hard.

  I huffed out a few shallow breaths as every muscle in my body seemed to relax. I thought I’d feel better, but jerking off in the shower left me feeling a little bereft. That was not what my body craved. I needed Ivy, to feel her naked skin rubbing against mine as I slowly inched my way inside her.

  I turned off the water and grabbed the towel I’d hung over the door, concentrating on drying myself before I ended up uncomfortably hard again.

  I threw myself across the bed, naked, and tried to clear my mind so I could go to sleep. It was still early, but after everything that had happened, I was bone-tired. Despite my best efforts, thoughts of Ivy kept creeping back in, so I rolled over onto my back and threw an arm across my eyes.

  Why was I so affected by her? I couldn’t lie, she was a beautiful woman. She was smart and had a big heart. And she was really funny when she wasn’t actively spewing hate in my direction. That hatred had become a constant between us over the last few years, and I hadn’t really thought of her in a sexual way in a very long time.

  But this fake engagement had changed everything. Forcing ourselves to really talk to each other had opened my eyes, making me remember the early days. When I’d thought there might’ve been something between us.

  And it made me remember how badly I’d wanted to take her to my bed.

  I sat up, running a hand through my hair. My heart picked up speed as I wondered if sleeping with Ivy wasn’t such a bad idea. We obviously had chemistry. That had been proven tonight as we basically lost our minds in front of Charity Glasscott.

  The more I thought about it, the better the idea seemed. We needed to get it out of our systems. One night. That’s all it would take, if I could get Ivy to agree to it.

  I leapt to my feet and strode toward the closet. Pulling on a pair of loose jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, I felt better already. This was going to work. Ivy would agree, and we’d spend the whole night satisfying our needs together. The mystery would be gone, and we could ride out the rest of this fake engagement without all the tension.

  It was the perfect solution.

  I stood outside the door to The Bullpen, smoothing my shirt and running a hand through my still-damp hair. Luckily, I’d spotted Ivy’s car in the lot as I drove by, saving myself a wasted trip to her apartment. Jessa’s Jeep was also in the lot, which meant my brother’s girlfriend was either working the bar, or she and Ivy were having a girls’ night with their friends...or both.

  “Just go in there, ask to speak to her alone, then spit it all out. What’s the worst that could happen?” I mumbled before pulling the door open and striding inside.

  She could laugh in my face. Or worse, call off our “engagement” and never speak to me again. But the minute possibility that she’d say yes, that I could have her in my bed within the hour kept my feet moving forward.

  As soon as I stepped inside the bar, I spotted her. Ivy was sitting at a table near the bar with Jessa, Felicia, and Karly, her face turned upward as she laughed, exposing the smooth skin of her neck. I was suddenly convinced I was a vampire, because I wanted nothing more in that moment than to run my teeth over her throat, nipping and biting until she groaned with ecstasy.

  Clearing my throat, I moved my feet, anxious to get this conversation out of the way so Ivy and I could get to the good stuff.

  “Nate. What are you doing here?” Jessa asked as I approached, her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.

  “Hey, Jessa. Ladies.” I nodded at her friends before zeroing in on Ivy. “I came to offer my fiancée a ride home.”

  Felicia snorted, loudly, drawing my attention. My eyes darted between her and Karly. They were both shaking their heads like they didn’t believe my excuse for a minute. My eyes moved to Ivy, who sported flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

  “You told them?”

  She shrugged, and Jessa threw an arm across her shoulder, saying, “I told her it was okay. They’re my friends. We can trust them.”

  I knew she was right. Those three were thick as thieves, and they would never tell a soul that Ivy and I were a charade. A charade that I was determined to turn into a reality…at least for tonight.

  I looked back at the women and nodded. “I trust you.” Then I refocused on Ivy. “Are you ready to go? I need to talk to you about something important.”

  “Boo,” Karly yelled, tossing a knotted cherry stem at my face. “We’re having fun, asshole.”

  I dodged the missile and turned to Felicia, who seemed to be swaying a bit in her chair as a sad country song played softly from the jukebox. Neither of them were in any condition to drive.

  “Do you guys need a ride?” I asked, though the words felt like a machete to the gut.

  I wanted to be alone with Ivy, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, leave her friends here to make bad, drunken choices.

  “I got them covered,” Jessa piped up, lifting a glass of what looked like water in my direction.

  I nodded and turned my full attention back to Ivy. She’d been quiet since my arrival. Too quiet.

  “Will you come?” I asked, my overstimulated and undersexed body rejoicing when she nodded and said yes.

  Yes. You will come. More than once, if I have anything to say about it.

  I held out a hand and she took it, launching herself from her chair a little too enthusiastically, and her body slammed into mine. My free hand latched onto her hip to steady her as something that sounded like a groan vibrated in her chest.

  Blood rushed to my cock, making it stand to attention. Instead of leaping away, Ivy pressed herself closer and shimmied, a little. Then she purred out another groan, and I knew. She was turned on.

  Fuck.

  I grabbed the purse Jessa held out to me, nodded in response to her I will murder you if you hurt her glare, and led Ivy from the bar. We didn’t speak along the way, and I had to fight to keep my pace moderate as Ivy’s palm burned against mine.

  If anyone was watching, they’d see a couple holding hands as they left The Bullpen. But this wasn’t for the lookie-loos or the gossipmongers. This was for me and for Ivy.

  I held the door and Ivy climbed into the passenger seat of my Mustang, wondering for the first time why she was being so agreeable. Had that kiss at the shop affected her the way it had affected me? Did she want this as badly as I did?

  It had seemed like she did, and though I wanted it to be true when I planned this whole thing, I hadn’t truly let myself believe it. There had been this nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I‘d read the whole thing wrong, and that Ivy had only been playing a part. But now it seemed like maybe her reaction hadn’t been an act at all…just like I’d hoped.

 
“Thanks for the ride,” she said as I climbed in behind the wheel.

  Before I could respond, she giggled. I looked over at her with wide eyes. She was still sporting pink cheeks as she laughed at the sexual innuendo in her words—and I had no doubt that was what she was giggling about. Her eyes were slightly unfocused and her head wobbled before she laid it back against the headrest.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I started the engine.

  She was drunk.

  Which meant there’d be no conversation that led to us getting naked and easing the sexual tension between us. Because when I slept with Ivy Anderson, she sure as hell was going to consent to it with a clear mind. And she sure as hell was going to fucking remember it.

  During the drive to her apartment, Ivy rambled on about how much she loved girls’ night, how she cherished Jessa, Karly, and Felicia, and how much she adored light beer. I chuckled despite my disappointment, because damn, she was a cute as hell drunk.

  When she complained about the heat in the car, I turned off the vents, but that didn’t stop her from unzipping her jacket and peeling it off her shoulders. I forced myself to keep my eyes on the road after one peek revealed a skin-tight sweater with a low-plunging neckline.

  My dick twitched as I imagined running my tongue down that valley between her tits, and I turned up the radio to try to drown out my thoughts. Singing the lyrics in my head helped, but only a little.

  After a few beats of silence from Ivy, I could feel her eyes on my face. I wasn’t one hundred percent certain I could stop my eyes from dropping to her cleavage if I looked her way, so I kept my eyes on the road and asked, “What?”

  “Why do you have to be so fucking beautiful?” she asked, the words slow and slurred.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I said, just because I wanted to hear her say it again.

  “You heard me,” she groused. “It’s not fair that an asshole like you should be so beautiful.”

  I blew out a rough sigh. We were back to this. It occurred to me that in her inebriated state, I could easily get her to tell me why she hated me so much. The words would spill from her lips like a waterfall, but as much as I wanted to know, asking her now felt like a dick move. Like I’d be betraying her trust…what little trust she actually had in me.

  “I’m sorry you don’t think I’m ugly,” I said.

  I made the turn into the parking lot of her apartment complex and pulled into the first empty spot. I killed the engine and climbed from the car, jogging around to help Drunk Ivy out before she face-planted on the asphalt.

  She didn’t pull away when I looped one of her arms over my shoulders and stretched my own around her waist. She actually leaned into me, resting her cheek against my chest in a way that made thoughts of never letting go flash through my mind.

  Brushing the errant thoughts aside, I asked, “Do you have your keys?”

  “Mm hmm,” she mumbled, shoving her free hand into her bag and digging around for several seconds before yanking it free with a victorious shout.

  Taking the keys from her, I unlocked the door and led her inside. As soon as we passed the threshold, she came to life, pulling away from me. Before I could muster a protest, she’d slammed the door, turned the deadbolt, and leaned back against it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice cracking with nerves I hadn’t felt since I was fifteen.

  She pushed away from the door, stalking me as I backed away, further into her living room. The backs of my legs bumped into the couch, and before I could catch my balance, I fell back into it. Ivy kept coming, crawling onto my lap with her knees straddling my hips.

  I sucked in a breath to tell her she shouldn’t do this, but all that came out was a low groan when she rolled her hips and rubbed her pussy against my cock. Then her mouth was on me, sucking on the skin of my neck before her tongue trailed a path up to my mouth. It flicked against my lips once before she pulled back a few centimeters.

  “Yum,” she said, then sealed her mouth to mine.

  Her tongue dipped in to brush against mine, and my hands took on a life of their own, latching onto her hips and pushing down to increase the friction between us. She moaned and broke off our kiss, straightening her spine as she rode me while pushing her breasts toward my face like some fucking Thanksgiving feast.

  And damn, was I hungry.

  I knew I had to stop this. As much as I wanted her—more than any woman I could remember ever wanting—I couldn’t do it. Not like this.

  Not when she would most certainly regret it in the morning.

  My fingers dug into her hips, stopping the bucking movements while gently lifting her off of me. She growled—fucking growled—and gripped my shoulders before biting my earlobe and whispering in my ear.

  “Fuck me, Nate. I want to feel your magic dick inside me.”

  Holy shit. That was the first time she’d said the words “magic dick” without derision. She’d said it with real need as she pressed her tits into my chest, and I almost caved.

  Because I wanted what she wanted. I wanted to strip her clothes off and taste every inch of her skin. I wanted to fuck her with my mouth first, to make her come with my tongue deep inside her. Then I wanted to suck her nipples as she rode me, her hot, greedy pussy milking me as little moans vibrated from her.

  “Ivy. We can’t.”

  The words were like stabbing a knife into my own gut, but they had to be said.

  She went rigid, panting for a moment before rolling off me and tucking herself into the corner of the couch. Blue eyes filled with betrayal, she pointed toward the door.

  “Get out.”

  “Ivy, please. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Get out!” she screamed, her face flaming with anger.

  Or maybe it was shame.

  No. No fucking way was I leaving here, letting her think I stopped because I didn’t want this. Because I didn’t want her.

  “Ivy,” I said, my voice firm, “look at me.” I thought she was going to refuse, but her eyes darted to my face. I shook my head and pointed to my crotch. “Look what you do to me.”

  Her eyes dipped to the obvious hard-on straining against the denim of my jeans before raising back up to meet mine. Then she shrugged.

  “So? It means nothing if you find someone else to take care of it for you.”

  “Why would I do that?” I asked, tilting my head to study her.

  “Because you don’t want me,” she mumbled, so low I almost didn’t hear it. “You never did.”

  18

  Ivy

  I sat up with a groan, rubbing circles on my temples with my fingertips to ease the pain. How much did I drink last night? How did I get home?

  Fragments of memories flashed through my mind—drinking at the bar with the girls, talking and laughing, then…

  I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth against the pain as I searched my fuzzy memory for what came next.

  “Oh, shit,” I whispered, my eyes flying wide.

  Nate had shown up, offering me a ride home. I vaguely remembered being in his car, then in my living room, where I’d…

  “Oh, shit,” I repeated, and this time it was a groan of agony.

  I’d attacked him like a bitch in heat, straddling him and rubbing my body against his as I begged for his cock. And he’d refused.

  My head drooped forward, my eyes stinging with tears of shame and embarrassment. Why did I do that? Had a succubus demon jumped into my body? What other reason could there be?

  “Good morning.”

  Oh, no. He is not here. No. No. No.

  I forced my eyes up to the doorway of my bedroom, and there he was. With sleep-mussed hair and a scruffy-looking five o’clock shadow, he looked sexier than anyone had a right to. I was sure I looked like hell warmed over, and the contrast sparked a fuse of anger within me.

  “What are you doing here, Nate?”

  “I drove you home last night,” he said, tilting his head before leaning one shoulder against the doo
rjamb. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks,” I growled. “Now, leave.”

  “Oh, no,” he said, arching one dark brow at me. “I went looking for you last night because I wanted to talk to you about something, but I never got the chance.”

  “Does it have to do with our deal? Is everything okay with the Bel Air?”

  “Yes, and yes,” he said. “I’m making breakfast. Come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

  He disappeared from view before I had a chance to react. His audacity had no equal. He was in my house, cooking my food after, what? Spending the night on my couch? Uninvited?

  In fact, I vaguely remember telling him to get out after…

  I flipped the blankets to the side, and a small wave of relief washed through me to see I was still wearing last night’s clothes. At least I didn’t have to suffer the indignity of knowing Nate helped me out of them when I was too drunk to remember.

  The pain flared in my head again, and I groaned. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, my eyes landing on a tall glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. My gaze darted back to the empty doorway, the sounds of banging pans drifting in from the kitchen beyond.

  “That was considerate,” I mumbled, admitting it to myself as I popped the lid and shook two pills into my palm, tossing them into my mouth and swallowing them before chasing them down with half the glass of water.

  I shuffled to the door, closing and locking it before making my way into my bathroom. Throwing my long hair up into a messy bun, I hopped into the shower to wash away last night’s makeup and the booze seeping from my pores. Dressing quickly in a pair of loose sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, I brushed my teeth and rolled on some deodorant.

  That was all the effort Nate would get from me this morning. I didn’t invite him to stay, and as soon as he said what he wanted to say, I was kicking him out and going back to bed.

  He greeted me with a cup of steaming coffee and a smile as I made my way into the kitchen, and I grumpily thanked him. I sat down at the bar and he slid a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me.