Substitute Boyfriend

by Jade C. Jamison

  “Of course!”

  “Anything I’ve heard of?”

  “Oh, I doubt it. My biggest book to date is called The Deadliest Game, and it’s about—”

  “Hold on. Let me wrap my mind around all this. You’re a writer. And I’ve never known this. How long have you been publishing?”

  “Two years.”

  “No shit. What’s your pen name?”

  “Eliza Brennan.” I could see the incredulity in his eyes. “Just a sec.” I got to my feet so I could find where I’d tossed my purse. I wobbled to the living room where that oversized bag sat next to my shoes, fetching out my phone and walking back in the kitchen. I’d already punched in my passcode and had pulled up my Facebook page so I could show him my profile. Ah. 5,233 likes, two more since I’d last logged in. I handed him the phone and walked over to the cupboard. I needed some water. I wanted to be sober for the remainder of the conversation. I’d already let my biggest secret slip. Granted, I didn’t mind that I’d told Roman. I trusted him. I just wish I’d been in a clearer frame of mind when I’d let it out of my lips.

  “Wow.”

  “Hold on.” I sat next to him again and took the phone from him. I pulled up the browser and typed my pen name into Google so he could see what happened. I handed it over again and let him scroll and click with his finger.

  “Damn, Beth…or, should I say, Eliza. This is crazy.” He looked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about that.”

  I grinned. “I don’t tell you all my secrets.”

  “But—”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just—”

  “No, that’s not it. Everyone has secrets. That’s cool. I’m just shocked as hell that I hadn’t figured that one out.”

  I blinked. Well, I was glad he wasn’t offended that I hadn’t told him anything. I was more worried about hurting his feelings than anything else. That he wasn’t bothered by it made me more relaxed. “I’ve kept it secret from everyone, Roman. My parents don’t know; none of my friends—including you; no one at work…”

  “Not even your sister?” He knew my sister and I were close. She and I went out to lunch once a month, and he knew that much, but I’d never told him much more about my family.

  “Especially not my sister. She’d disown me.”

  “Are you so sure about that?”

  “Yeah, so much so that I won’t chance it.”

  “Hmm.” He polished off his beer and stood up so he could throw the bottle in the trash. He came back and sat down again, this time pouring himself a shot of the poison I’d been drinking into the glass I’d used for it. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” While he slammed his shot, I took my phone back and opened up the Kindle app.

  “You’re not going to hit me with all your dark and dirty secrets now, are you?”

  I started laughing. “I’m afraid I’ve already hit you with the biggest.” He chuckled. I’d typed my pen name in the search bar on my Kindle app, and it pulled up eleven books—all of the covers were hot to one degree or another. I preferred cover models with long hair and tattoos…half-naked men. There were three books that had couples on them, but the rest of them were men alone—hard-bodied, glistening, tattooed…just yummy. I handed the phone to him again and took a long swig of water. Why were my cheeks feeling so hot? Roman knew I wasn’t a sheltered, innocent, shy thing, so why would writing some sexy books be embarrassing?

  He smiled and handed my phone back to me again. “That’s crazy, Beth. Good crazy…but crazy.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, well, now you know all my secrets.” Wait, no. That wasn’t true…and he saw it all over my fucking face.

  Roman’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

  “Well…I don’t know that the last one counts.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s interrelated to writing…and it’s why I was so upset tonight.”

  “So spill the beans already.”

  I swallowed and shook my head. Yep, I was gonna tell him. “I also have a pretend boyfriend…and he cheated on me tonight.”

  Chapter Six

  I COULD TELL from the sparkle in Roman’s eyes that he wanted to laugh but he suspected it would be insensitive. So he furrowed his brow, just like a good friend would, and asked, “What the hell is a pretend boyfriend?”

  I wasn’t sure where to start…and I figured I should just tell him the whole story. So I did. I told him about how I’d picked Ridley up at a bar and the man had discovered my secret identity, then volunteered for the role, apparently not understanding how demanding I could be.

  Roman shook his head. Oh, he must have been disappointed in me. But I’d misunderstood. “You know what the problem is?” I gulped. I had several suspicions, but there was no way I was going to voice them. I’d done enough talking already. “He’s not like you at all. Sounds to me like you have nothing in common.”

  I snorted then, unable to help myself. “You got that right.”

  “So he was probably looking for a companion that better suited him for the evening.”

  Wow. Okay, so why the hell did that hurt so much? Roman could have just grabbed the chef’s knife out of its place in the knife holder on the counter and plunged it into my chest, and I guarantee it would have been less painful. “Some bimbo who wears too much makeup?”

  “If that’s what he’s into.” Roman leaned over the table. “Sorry, kid. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but be honest with yourself. Do you see this guy in your life ten years from now?”

  Honestly, no. I couldn’t see Ridley in my life at all, but I’d wanted to try. He was so fucking hot, and he could make my blood boil. So, no—realistically, I knew that Ridley didn’t fit anywhere in my life, but why couldn’t we give it a try? When I’d suggested a date to the guy—a real one—I’d set it up as though maybe I’d wanted to extend my fictional life out more, and Ridley had talked to me like I was a good little puppy. I was surprised he hadn’t patted me on the head.

  And then I’d dropped it. Why was that?

  I took a deep breath and shrugged. In the back of my mind, I knew Roman was right, but that didn’t mean I liked hearing it. “Ten years from now, if he looks then like he looks now…” Roman cocked his head. I could see the Really? expression in his eyes. “All right. Okay. So no. You’re right. We’re like night and day.”

  “The sex good?”

  My internal filter flew off. I’m not sure why. The alcohol maybe…or perhaps I was tired of keeping all those secrets from my friend. “It got better as we went, because I told him what to do, but…no. I’ve had lots better.”

  Roman nodded and grew strangely quiet. It was freaking me out. Finally, though, he said, “So what are you going to do—I mean writing wise—now that your pretend boyfriend is out of the picture?” I took a deep breath. Before I could answer, he added, “Or are you going to kiss and make up?”

  Part of me wanted to…really wanted to. For no good reason, I wanted to keep Ridley around. Maybe I was lonely and liked having a pretend boyfriend whom I could call whenever the mood struck. Honestly, he’d helped me work out a lot of sex scenes. The books I wrote now as opposed to two years ago were more realistic, and I wrote more sex now than I did back then. I knew that was fueled by my desire to have Ridley around. I needed an excuse to have him over, and needing to write a sex scene helped me fool myself into thinking it was just about the books.

  It was more than that, though, and I knew the psychologist in Roman saw right through me…so there was no need to put on an act. He would know I was full of shit, and there was no need to even try. I wasn’t in the mood to have him pick me apart, not while I was feeling so vulnerable, so I knew I should just be truthful. “I guess I’ll just do what I did before Ridley was in the picture—I’ll write strictly from my imagination.”

  Roman was containing another smile when he said, “So let me get this straight. You would set up a scenario and then act it o
ut, and whatever happened, you would just kind of transcribe?”

  “Well, no, it wasn’t exactly like that. I would plot out the whole book. It was just the sex scenes…that we would act out.” My cheeks flamed again. “Sometimes it’s hard to imagine exactly how something feels or works until you try it.”

  Oh, he was enjoying this way too much. “Can you give me an example?”

  I sneered. “Not without another drink.” I grabbed the bottle and snatched my shot glass back from him, pouring the amber liquid to the rim. I drank it down fast. That one made me shudder, because I’d been sobering up quite nicely. Then I looked him square in the eyes. I wanted him to wipe the amused look off his face, because it made it harder for me to talk about it. “Okay, so, for example, I had been picturing this scene in my head where the hero and heroine are in the front seat of a car and he’s going to…” I looked down at the table. I really couldn’t look him in the eyes to tell him this. “…go down on her, but they’re still in the front seat, right? So I needed to work out if they could actually do it. You know, if you slide the seat back all the way and then lean it back too and the woman leans against the dash.”

  “And?”

  I couldn’t help myself. I smiled. “It can be done.” Roman started chuckling. “But I wouldn’t have known it if I hadn’t tried it. And I’d often wondered if a guy could fuck me while holding me—without a wall to support me. You know, stuff like that.” Damn, that alcohol wasn’t working. I poured another shot.

  But Roman touched my hand before I could drink more of the liquor. That forced me to look at him. “So your pretend boyfriend is gone.” He cleared his throat. “What if you had a substitute? You know, like a stand in?”

  I blinked several times. Okay, maybe I had had enough liquor, more than enough, in fact, because I was being pretty thick. “You mean a substitute Ridley?”

  “Yeah…a substitute boyfriend.”

  “I guess that could work…but I don’t know if I’d be able to find another guy willing to do it.”

  He laughed then, long and hard. “I could find plenty of guys willing to help you out.”

  “Really? Name one.”

  He moved his hand so that he could take mine in his. I swallowed as the implications washed over me, but he didn’t say anything until my eyes locked with his. “Me.”

  The room was silent then as my eyes continued to search his. He was dead serious. And that left me with no words to say. I stood, my hand falling away from his loose grip, and walked around the table. He joined me.

  Wow. I felt pretty awkward. Roman had always been firmly in my friend zone. I had never, not once, thought about him in a sexual way. I found that odd, too, because he was a good-looking guy and he was in fantastic shape. The fact that I’d never considered him made me wonder if it had been one of his psychology mind tricks.

  I would have laughed if he hadn’t been looking at me like that. Sweet holy Jesus. His eyes were dark, his pupils swollen with desire, a look I had never expected to see from my friend—ever—and directed at me, no less. It was kind of freaking me out and made me want to have another drink.

  But I couldn’t, because his hands cupped my cheeks and he leaned over to touch his lips to mine. My heart began to flutter. It had already made up its mind to jump in and go full throttle. The only thing holding me back was my brain. It was telling me that Roman was just my friend and it was a line we shouldn’t cross, and—

  Until his tongue entered my mouth. Fuck whatever my brain had to say. Holy fuck. I hadn’t imagined it. This guy—my best friend, for God’s sake—was a hell of a kisser. Why had I not ever thought about it before? By that point, my entire body was engaged. Fingers locked in his hair? Check. Nipples alert and at the ready? Uh…definitely check. Pussy getting a little damp? Hell, yeah. All systems go.

  I didn’t think he was moving fast, but his hands were in my hair, his lips touching my neck as I let out a sigh. Okay, so these were the kinds of nuances I hadn’t been able to teach Ridley. Somehow, Roman already knew what I needed and how to deliver. Maybe it was because we had been friends for so long, but it was probably because he was the kind of guy who analyzed people. He likely knew what I wanted before I did.

  The rational part of my brain knew that wasn’t true, though. Roman had always read me like a book, and so why would this moment be any different?

  He stopped kissing me and looked me in the eyes. “So…for the purpose of empirical research, I have to ask this question.” I gulped, still not trusting myself, and simply nodded my head. “Have you ever done it on a table?”

  Chapter Seven

  OH, MY FUCKING God. We were doing it. We were going to do it, rather, and on his kitchen table. Holy shit. I should have pretended to be more worldly than I really was, because why would I want my first time with my so-called substitute boyfriend to be in a brightly lit kitchen in the dead of night?

  A better question: why not?

  When I’d shaken my head no, that I’d never done it on a table, Roman had taken the few items off it, moving them to the counter, including the bottles of alcohol…all except for the coconut rum. That he placed on a chair, and I wasn’t going to ask why. Then he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up onto the table, so I sat, my legs dangling like a child’s. He lifted my face up to his with a gentle finger under my chin and he kissed me again. It was slow, sweet…and hot. I was trying to imagine how we were going to do it exactly, especially since my dress was still on, but I couldn’t concern myself with that. No, my job right now was to record the events in my mind so I could type them out later. I didn’t know if this would work as a scene for my present book, but that was okay. I could type it up in its own document and plan to use it in the next book…if it fit the characters.

  The problem was I tried and couldn’t imagine those characters in my head right now. Sometimes thinking about the love or lust my characters were feeling could get me hot and bothered, but they were nowhere to be found right now. I was actually turned on by Roman. That alone freaked me out a little bit. And it wasn’t Roman as one of my male leads, either. It was Roman playing himself that had me wet and wound up.

  While his lips assaulted mine, I felt his hands on my legs, right next to my knees. I ran my fingers back into his hair while his hands slid up my thighs, and I felt my muscles tighten in response. Wow. Oh, my God. I’d had no idea my friend had such moves. His kisses were killing me, but his hands were even deadlier.

  They reached my panties, and he hooked his fingers in them, pulling them down. It was then that I realized just how wet I was. They were tiny little things and they were soaked. I slid one of my hands down the side of his face and down his torso, because if he was taking my panties off, his shirt was coming off next. When he got them to my knees, he took his lips off mine and watched as he let them slip down my legs until they rested on my feet, dangling. I looked up at him and saw the twinkle in his eyes. I bent my feet, pointing the toes downward, and off fell the white panties to the floor, and then my bottom half—aside from the skirt half of my dress—was completely naked.

  I took that opportunity to grab the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up. When he grabbed it to take it the rest of the way over his head, I met his chest with my lips. He had a little hair smattered over the skin, but it was toned and beautiful, just as I’d imagined. Only there was more.

  He was covered in tattoos. Just his chest and stomach area. The tats ended where any shirt sleeves would begin. I understood why—as a college instructor wanting to move up the ranks, I knew exactly why his tattoos were hidden…but I couldn’t resist saying something. “Ah. I see you have your own secrets as well.”

  He grinned and brought his hand to the back of my neck where his fingers threaded into the locks, and he tilted my head so he could consume my mouth in another one of his fiery kisses. That one left me breathless, and as he moved his lips back to my neck, I felt his hand move to the back of my dress. He found the zipper and pulled it down while my hands
explored his chest.

  He got the zipper down to my ass and then he pulled at the sides, revealing my barely there strapless bra. I felt hot again but also a little self-conscious. Was he thinking the same thoughts about me, wondering why we’d had so many secrets between ourselves? Or was he finding the mystery to be a bit of a turn on, just as I was viewing his own little secret?

  “Lie back,” he said, and it wasn’t a request. Ordinarily, I would have taken that kind of bossiness to be a challenge. It would have angered me and made me closed off, but for some reason, coming out of his mouth and at that moment got me all the more excited. I’m sure my eyes grew wide, but I did as he commanded. He grabbed the dress on the sides and started to shimmy it down my hips. The only reason he was even able to was because he’d taken the zipper all the way down to where my ass hit the table. Once he had it past my hips, though, it was a cinch. It slid right off.

  So I lay there in nothing but a lacy white strapless bra, one that matched the white panties on his kitchen floor. He leaned over me then and I suppose I should have found the unforgiving surface of the table uncomfortable but I didn’t. His gaze was more unnerving, and I couldn’t tell you why. All I could figure was it was because we’d been friends, and this was all new…and weird territory. I don’t know how our relationship might have progressed had I not told him my secret, had I not been drinking that night, but here we were, getting ready to fuck, and there was no turning back now.

  He moved to the side of the table and picked up the bottle of coconut rum he’d left on the chair. He opened the lid and took a swig into his mouth straight from the bottle. Then he laced his hand into my hair behind my neck, urging me to sit up some. He kissed me again, letting some of the rum spill into my mouth, while one of his hands reached behind my back and started messing around with the bra. My hands were back in his hair, holding on tight, because I was starting to feel desperate. His other hand joined the one already working the back of the bra, and then he managed to get the two sides apart.