Bedding the Fake Boyfriend: Bedding the Bachelors Book 10

by Virna DePaul

  Gio’s low voice sounded in her ear, jarring her from the mental self-flagellation that had been taking up the larger part of her morning.

  She’d woken up to cloudy skies and an impending sense of doom as she tried to recall what the actual fuck had made her think this was a good idea. And the nerves that had rendered her almost speechless since Gio and his driver had picked her up an hour before had now gone into overdrive.

  Not that she was afraid to fly. She’d done it twice and lived through it both times, but neither time had she been trapped with Gio. It made her think about their first time together. How they’d been sitting so close in the tight confines of his car. How she’d been aching for him, pleading for him to take her.

  And he had. Quite thoroughly.

  She shifted in the plush seat and crossed her legs as she reached for her seatbelt.

  “So this is how the other half does it, huh?” she asked with a strained laugh.

  Gio watched her with a bemused stare as she fumbled with the two ends of the restraining device like a monkey trying to master basket-weaving. After her third unsuccessful attempt, Gio leaned closer, took firm hold of the belt and clipped it in place with swift efficiency, his knuckles grazing the underside of her breast in the process.

  They both froze and, for a second, all she could hear was her own heartbeat…all she could feel was his suddenly harsh breath, warm on her neck.

  “It’s a little tricky,” he said stiffly, leaning back into his own seat and managing his buckle as well.

  The urge to ramble in order to break the tension was impossible to quell and words tumbled out in a rush as she tried to ignore the tingling in her breast.

  “Yeah, it’s not like a commercial flight where the lady does all the motions up there and stuff, and shows you how to do it, and points to the exits and all that, am I right? But just so you know, they always say to do your own safety stuff first before you help others because if you can’t save yourself, you’re no good to anyone else, you know what I mean?”

  He cocked his head and nodded slowly, but she could tell he wasn’t exactly picking up what she was putting down.

  “Well, that’s more for the oxygen masks during a potential air disaster than it is for helping a seatmate with their belt, but I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

  Kill me now.

  “Mr. Esposito, Ms. Whitman.” Their flight attendant stood in the aisle and smiled. “Did either of you want some champagne or wine for the flight?”

  “Yes, please!” she replied, too quickly. “I mean, I know it’s morning and I’m not, like, an alcoholic or anything, if you were wondering. I’m just feeling a little nervous and—”

  “We’ll take a split of Moet, Elizabeth. Thanks,” Gio cut in smoothly.

  As the statuesque blonde glided away, Rose turned to Gio and cleared her throat. No point in pretending any of this was normal. “I’m acting like a total freaking weirdo, right?”

  Gio’s lips twitched and broke into a smile that stood in stark contrast to how reserved he’d seemed since he’d picked her up earlier.

  “Not a total weirdo, no. But not like a regular person who has no issues with flying, either. You seem a little…on edge, is all.” He shrugged those wide shoulders and waved his hand as if it was no big deal, but all it did was make his biceps bulge in the best way, and she couldn’t tear her eyes off him.

  He had looked good in a suit—hell, who was she kidding? He looked amazing in a suit—but in his casual, white polo shirt that seemed to cling to every defined, thick muscle?

  She could barely look at him without her fingers itching to touch every hard inch of him. She clenched her hands together as a physical reminder not to do that even as the original thought triggered another, far more problematic one as she remembered all those other hard inches she’d had the pleasure of encountering and she let out an involuntary squeak.

  Gio’s brows caved together in a concerned frown. “Seriously, Rose. Do you have a phobia of flying? I should’ve asked. We could’ve driven or gotten you something for anx—”

  “Nope!” She cut him off with a self-deprecating chuckle, wishing the floor would open and swallow her whole. “I’ve flown before, it’s not that. I think I’m apprehensive about meeting your Nana and about pulling this whole thing off. I was trying to play it cool because you seem so calm, but I’m a mess, if I’m being totally honest. Maybe you could tell me a little more about the family so I feel better prepared?”

  The flight attendant delivered their champagne in crystal flutes just as the engine began to hum, and she took a grateful sip to soothe her dry throat.

  “All right, so let’s see. Michelle’s marrying a guy named Alec. He’s almost good enough for her, which is a relief. He’s a cabinetmaker and she’s an interior designer, so they’re like two bookends on that front.”

  As he went on in soothing tones about his family and she sipped her champagne, she began to relax a little, barely even noticing as they took flight.

  For the next hour, the chill that had seemed to form between them melted as he told her stories about his family. His mom and dad, who she’d met a couple of times and who still lived in L.A., and how happy they were that his sister was getting married. His cousin Toby, who would somehow find a way to steal the mic at every wedding and do his Neil Diamond impersonation. Nana Ginger and her sister, Aunt Alice, who apparently had moved in together when both of their husbands passed away more than a decade before and fought like two cats in a sack but were also inseparable and wouldn’t let anyone else say a bad word about the other on threat of death.

  There was no denying the love he felt for his family. His face practically lit up as he spoke, and, as she laughed along with his anecdotes, an ache began to spread in her chest.

  God, she missed that. Never mind one, but having a whole shit-ton of people who loved you? People who knew you so well they could finish your sentences. People who accepted you, warts and all, with open arms and a warm hug. People who loved you enough to call you on your bullshit when you needed to hear it.

  “Do you know how lucky you are?” she asked after he finished telling her about a time he and his sister had gotten caught sneaking out one night and had to spend a week volunteering at a local horse stable shoveling manure as a punishment.

  He grinned and nodded. “I do, actually. But as you’ll see when we get there, they can be kind of a lot.”

  She’d take it any day of the week. There was no question she’d been pretty lucky herself, having had all those years with her own family. The old saying that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all was absolutely true.

  But there was no filling the gaping hole in her chest that first her parents and then Michael had left. As petty and small as it was, sometimes, when she saw people who were fortunate enough to have that for a lifetime? It made it hurt just a little more.

  In Gio’s case, it made it hurt a billion times more. Not because it was him who was fortunate enough to have people in his life, but because she’d once hoped Gio would be the one person she could count on to always be there for her.

  “Thanks for keeping me pre-occupied until the nerves wore off. I think I’m going to try to get a little shut-eye before we get there. I didn’t sleep so well last night,” she said, managing a wan smile.

  “Good idea,” he said. “Get some rest, Rose.”

  She let her eyes drift closed and tried to relax, never in a million years thinking she’d be able to fall asleep with a wit-stealing sexy hunk of man sitting next to her. But soon enough, the long fitful night before, the purr of the plane’s engine, and the champagne began to work in tandem, and her subconscious mind began to drift, far back into the past, to a time when Gio was hers…

  Fifteen years ago…

  * * *

  “It’s cooling down. I’m going to run to my car and grab you a hoodie,” Gio said, his dark eyes shining down at her in the moonlight.

  There were kids
all around, circling the bonfire, some alone but most having paired off. Girls draped on the laps of their dates played tonsil-hockey. A few of the single guys had brought guitars along and were playing to a throng of fawning admirers. She was having a good time, but ever since she and Gio had gone for a walk on the beach a short while earlier, stopping every so often to kiss and sometimes even more than kiss, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the deep ache that had taken hold of her.

  It started low in her belly, and with every swipe of Gio’s tongue, every touch of his hand, it grew and pulsed until it felt like a living thing inside her that needed to get out.

  More.

  She needed more…

  “I’ll walk with you, if you want?”

  He nodded and took her hand, leading the way over the soft, cool sand toward the copse of trees that separated the makeshift dirt parking lot and the beach.

  With every step they took, the ache grew as she imagined all the things those hands could do to her. All the things she wanted them to do. By the time they got to his car, she was shaking like a leaf.

  “Jesus, you’re freezing, Rose. Why didn’t you say something?” Gio demanded as he practically shoved her into the car, climbed in himself and turned on the ignition. “Let’s put the heat on in here for a while until you’re warmed….”

  But as he met her gaze in the front seat of his car, the words died. Could he see it on her face? Her cheeks burned at the thought but she didn’t look away.

  “Ah, Rosie,” he muttered, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for, do you?”

  “You,” she whispered. “I’m asking for you. I’m asking you to stop me from aching. I ache so bad. I know you think we should wait until we graduate, but Gio… I can’t… I need you,” she whimpered. “Please.”

  He groaned, and slanted his lips over hers. Elation bubbled through her veins, making her blood sing as she gave as good as she got, tangling her tongue with his. His scent surrounded her, increasing the pressure between her legs as she squeezed them together and began to rock restlessly.

  Jesus, what was this feeling? She just wanted it to end…and go on and on and—

  “Ah!” she gasped as the straight edge of his teeth closed over her bottom lip and tugged. But there was no pain. It was more of an awakening. The new knowledge that, in her heightened state, she could’ve taken a bullet if Gio would keep kissing her like this.

  He slid across the bench seat, crowding her against the door until his muscular chest was flush against her breasts. Her nipples strained against the thin cotton of her shirt and suddenly, she was hot. So fucking hot…

  She pulled away from Gio with a groan and reached for the hem of her camisole top, yanking it over her head in one, swift move.

  For an endless moment, Gio just sat there, dark gaze raking over her body by the faint light of the moon.

  “You’re so fucking perfect.” His voice was husky and thick as he reached out a hand and cupped her breast. “Jesus, Rose, you’re fucking killing me right now.”

  If she could’ve replied, she’d have told him he was killing her just the same. Instead, she arched her back, pressing into his caress and whimpering when his thumb brushed over her aching nipple.

  “God, that feels…”

  There were no words to describe it. Electric? Magical? All too tame, and besides, the time for talk was over. The empty space between her thighs was throbbing now, and she knew in the deepest part of her feminine soul that there was only one way to make it stop.

  “Please, Gio…”

  His nostrils flared and he looked almost pained with need himself as he traced the very tips of his fingers along the underside of her bra before flicking the front closure open.

  Her breasts spilled out and modest though they were, he let out a low grunt of approval before dropping forward and closing his teeth over one, tight nipple.

  She let out a hiss, threading her fingers through his hair as waves of ecstasy coursed through her. And when he started to suck, her back bowed as she flexed her hips, so hot…so ready, she almost couldn’t bear it.

  As if he could read her mind, his hand closed over her bare thigh and began a slow, painstaking trip upward. Higher and higher, inch by excruciating inch until his knuckles brushed against her pussy.

  They groaned in stereo as sparks shot through her whole body and she shuddered.

  “So fucking soft,” he murmured against her nipple. “So fucking sweet.”

  His tentative touch became more sure as he began to rub, giving her the friction she so desperately needed, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit until she had to bite her lip to stop crying out.

  He released her nipple and reared back, making quick work of her zipper and yanking the shorts down her legs and tossing them to the side. She was desperate for contact, and he was more than happy to oblige, reaching between her legs again and yanking her underwear to the side.

  When his warm, strong hands touched her overheated, aching flesh, she let out a low sob and instantly began to rock into him. It was there…so close, just out of arm’s reach. She was almost delirious as she reached for his zipper and felt the thick ridge beneath it.

  “Fuck me, Gio. Please.”

  “I just need to make sure you’re ready, Rosie,” he ground out. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Their harsh breathing filled the air as he slid one finger and then two deep inside her, making light explode behind her eyelids.

  She closed her fingers over his iron-hard cock and began to work him up and down beneath his jeans, fluttering her hips against his hand. She wanted him inside her so badly, but she couldn’t seem to stop moving. It was like something had taken hold of her and—

  “Ah, fuck, Gio!” she cried out as shock waves rolled through her, stealing her breath and her sanity. She shuddered and arched against his fingers as she came, her tight channel spasming around his fingers.

  So good…so fucking good…

  “Rose?”

  She was still rocking when a familiar voice called her name, splashing over her like a bucket of icy water.

  “Rose? You were crying out.”

  Her eyes shot open and she found herself staring into Gio’s eyes. Not the high school boy, but the grown ass man. His nostrils were flaring, his pupils were dilated and there was no doubt in her mind that he knew exactly what kind of dream she’d been having.

  Chapter 6

  “Sorry to wake you,” Gio said. “I thought you were having a nightmare and then…”

  Rose nodded and pushed herself upright, crossing her arms over her chest to cover her still-hard nipples.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I was. You know one of those dreams where you’re running and someone is chasing you but you’re not actually moving? It was one of those. Terrifying,” she added inanely before quickly disengaging her seatbelt and leaping to her feet as his intense gaze drilled into her. “I’m going to go to the ladies’ room. Be back in a jiff.”

  Be back in a jiff? Yeah, because that sounded natural.

  There was no taking it—or anything else that had happened in the past five minutes—back so she just had to figure a way to press on.

  On wobbly legs, she made it to the bathroom and slumped over the sink with a groan. How could she have let that happen? Sure, she’d dreamt about the night she and Gio had sex a couple…thousand times before. But while he was sitting next to her??

  That was a new one.

  She turned on the water cold and splashed some into her face but when she looked in the mirror a few seconds later, nothing had changed. Her eyes were still glassy with need, her bottom lip was puffy, probably from biting it in her sleep, and she looked well and thoroughly fucked but still horny.

  Excellent.

  Not.

  They were stuck on a plane and there was nowhere to hide, though. So her options were to stay in here for the rest of the flight like a chicken shit and declare bowel distress upon landing, or to get back out ther
e and brazen it out.

  After a quick, internal battle, her pride won. She gave herself a short pep talk that mostly consisted of, “You got this girl,” and headed back to the main cabin with what she hoped was a breezy smile on her face.

  To Gio’s credit, he said nothing. Then again, he didn’t really have to. Just the arched brow he sent her way when she took her seat was enough to have her squirming and blabbering excuses again.

  “Sorry I scared you with the whole nightmare thingy. It must be nerves.”

  He nodded and looked away, but not before she saw a spark of something else in his face.

  Was that regret?

  Or pity…

  Jesus, anything but that.

  “I’m going to try to get some more rest,” she mumbled, taking her seat and squeezing her eyes closed again.

  For the rest of the trip, she pretended to fall back to sleep, but mostly, she was plotting her own self-preservation. That dream had turned out to be a real life nightmare. If her poker face was as good as it had been the previous thirty-two years of her life, then she was pretty sure Gio wasn’t buying her nightmare story.

  Not to mention, every minute she spent with him re-affirmed the fact that her attraction to him was still as strong as ever. Stronger, even. Which meant that she had to create a mental wedge to lodge between them so she wouldn’t do anything stupid in a moment of weakness.

  By the time they landed a few hours later, she had a pretty solid list of deterrents together:

  * * *

  #1. Get to a store and buy a bunch of granny-panties. Like, really big, awful ones…

  #2. Eat garlic whenever available (caveat: no gum chewing afterward)

  #3. Don’t shave legs

  #4. Don’t shave cooch

  #5. FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY. Mention mysterious and seemingly incurable rash

  * * *

  She just had to remember to write them down when she got a few minutes to herself.