Emotion welled up in her throat, blocking off any chance she had at forming coherent words. She opened her mouth and tried to push something out, but nothing came. Her lips parted and they felt so dry that she swept her tongue over them, hoping it would help. She tasted mint lip balm and remembered she’d applied it earlier. Sam’s gaze fell to her lips and his eyes darkened. Something wicked and raw leapt inside of her. A heady heaviness spooled at the juncture of her thighs and her blood surged.
He doesn’t feel anything. I’m just imagining it because I want him to.
“I- I don’t know. I- I…” she stammered, not coming up with anything. She wanted to rip open the car door, slam herself inside and drive off.
Sam edged up closer and she stepped back. The look on his face made that pulsing ache even worse. He looked… rough. Hard. There was something in the dark depths of his eyes that was primitive and raw, the look a hunter gets when he’s finally trapped his prey.
She went wild inside. She couldn’t control her body’s reaction. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into her, to press herself up against him, to grind away the ache that permeated every fiber of her being.
“I’ll tell you what, Amy. I’ll give you a trade. My own offer. I’ll keep on with this insane plan of yours for a few more weeks. I’ll suck it up and get over what happened last night.”
“And- and what’s on trade?” Amy gasped. She waited for the blow to fall. She knew Sam wouldn’t want it for nothing. The way he was looking at her, the blazing intensity in his eyes, it scared her. He’d never looked at her like that before.
He doesn’t want me. He might want to get back at me, but he doesn’t want me.
“You,” Sam ground out. He stepped back and that mask came back over his face as quickly as it had fled. She literally watched him shut her out.
“Me?” She hated the way the word was a high pitched rasp, like she’d swallowed barbed wire and her throat was all cut up.
“Yes. You. I want to spend a night with you. A few hours. With the real Amy. The Amy I remember. The Amy who wasn’t afraid to get dirty, who laughed all the time, who was real. The Amy who was fearless and didn’t care about what anyone thought of her. I want that Amy back. I want to know if she still exists.”
She breathed out a sigh that wasn’t exactly relief. What did I expect? That he’d ask me to fuck him in exchange for a few more weeks of pretending to be my fiancé? She wanted to laugh at herself. I really am pathetic.
“A few hours? At… at where? My studio?”
“Sure. Wherever you want. I just want to know if there is anything left of the girl I knew. The girl who used to pretty much be my best friend. The girl that- that my brother loved. Did you lose her, Amy?”
“I’ve changed,” she forced out irritably. Her voice was biting and harsh as she made an attempt to defend herself. “We’ve all changed. If I hadn’t grown up, that would be pathetic. Who wants to be the eighteen year old version of themselves for the rest of their life?”
“I would prefer it over this version.”
“That’s your problem then. I don’t know why you want to spend any time with me if you apparently can’t stand me.”
“Because I want to know,” Sam said, voice thick, “if there’s anything still left. Anything at all.”
“Of me? That person you used to know is long gone. You said yourself that you don’t want to know who I am now. Apparently I’m not worth getting to know and I’m not likable.”
Sam shrugged maddeningly. “It’s your choice. A few hours tomorrow night or no deal. You can just explain why your fiancé suddenly up and vanished after one night.”
“I’ll do it,” Amy finally sighed, knowing she had no choice but to give in. She couldn’t imagine it just being her and Sam in her place. She had no right to imagine it, though she’d often laid awake at night doing just that over the years. A darkened room… nothing between them, skin on skin. Her body burned and she had to tear her eyes from his, afraid that he’d see everything she held hidden there. “If you tell me what happened last night.”
“I’ll tell you.” Sam agreed far too easily. “When I’m ready.”
So that was the caveat. He was going to tell her on his terms. He was going to carry out the plan on his terms. She was no longer in control and he wanted her to know it.
“What’s it going to be, Amy? Seven tomorrow night and I continue your charade or nothing at all? You came here. I assume it was really to beg me to continue on.”
“I came to apologize,” she protested.
“You came to make demands. Those are my demands. Take it or leave it.”
They waited. Sam crossed his arms and leaned in, as intimidating as he possibly could be, waiting for her answer. She felt trapped, trapped by her own realistic need for her plan to succeed and by the fact that deep down, she had picked him when she could have asked someone else. She’d picked him because the deep seated desire for him never truly had gone away. She’d ran for years, but she was tired of it.
“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll take it. Tomorrow night at seven. Seven until ten. Not longer.”
He shrugged again, like he was brushing off her feeble attempt at setting the parameters, of trying to take back the upper hand.
“Good.” The triumph in Sam’s tight smile was unmistakable. “How about that oil change?”
Chapter 10
The Charade
Sam
A few hours alone with Amy. He didn’t know what possessed him to make it a stipulation of continuing on with the so far unsuccessful charade. Probably the regret he felt after walking out on her the night of that house party. He’d been ashamed and embarrassed, but after he’d left Amy standing there and gone home, he couldn’t stop thinking that it was the last time he was going to see her. It should have been good riddance, but of course, it wasn’t. Like the rest of his damn life, he’d been unable to shake her.
When she showed up at his work the next day, it felt like he’d been given a second chance. She might not exactly deserve it, the whole plan might be ridiculous, the premise completely nonsensical and all around fucked up, but the fact remained that he’d realized something in those long, lonely night hours in between that party and when she showed up at his work.
He realized that if he was going to spend the rest of his life regretting her, there might as well be something to regret. At the moment, it was a whole lot of nothing and that was even worse than having had done something stupid when they were younger. Or at present. She showed up and he couldn’t help himself. The hard truth was, he wanted her. In any capacity. He was willing to take a chance on just a few hours together.
This is insane. Sam climbed out of the shower and wrapped a black towel around his hips. He let the water sluice off his hair and run down his shoulders and chest. A few hours with Amy was about to happen. He’d been plagued by thoughts of her all day. Not only that, the guys at work had been ribbing him constantly about Amy, so he hadn’t even been able to get her off his mind since he’d talked to her the day before.
He knew he couldn’t go over to Amy’s house looking like a scrub so after work he’d jumped right in the shower. He didn’t look at himself in the mirror as he combed his hair. He thought about shaving, but decided against it. He didn’t want to look like he was trying to impress anyone. He applied deodorant, but didn’t bother with cologne. Again, the whole impressing Amy wasn’t supposed to be on the agenda.
As he tugged on a faded blue t-shirt and pulled out a fresh pair of jeans, Sam thought about his stipulation. A few hours together so he could see the real Amy. Just them. Alone.
Of course he hadn’t stated anything sexual, but that didn’t mean he didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean he’d been dense enough to read the flare up in her eyes. His body responded painfully. God, she was going to be so close… closer than she’d ever been. She was single this time and even though he should keep her at arm’s length, he found that nearly impossible to i
magine doing. These few hours have been ten years in the making. He couldn’t not ask her for them, even if it was wrong.
It’s not like I’m going to force her to do anything with me. He would never, ever hurt Amy. But if she was willing… that was a whole different ball game. All bets were off then
Sam managed to talk himself down and talk his body into not being a damn tyrant. He managed to warn himself against taking things too far and too fast and doing them both irrevocable harm. Right up until the moment he rang Amy’s doorbell.
When she appeared, dressed in a tight red dress that was somehow casual and not casual at all, he just about lost it. Red. Lord, could a color look any better on her? Her blonde hair was loose and combed out and tumbled down around her shoulders like a silky field of rippling wheat blowing in the wind. She’d done her makeup minimally again, as though she too was trying to make a point of not impressing him. That dress though… it was tight up top, lifted up her glorious round breasts, nipped in at her tiny waist and flared out at her shapely hips. It was the kind of dress that made a beautiful woman that much more feminine and alluring. It fell to the knees and revealed the full length of creamy, silky, smooth legs. She had red pumps on that matched, but they weren’t as high as what she normally wore.
“I thought- uh- I thought I asked for the old Amy back,” Sam stammered. He ran a hand through his hair and realized too late that he’d probably messed it all up since he’d actually bothered to comb it back. “The old Amy wore jeans and t-shirts and flat canvas sneakers.”
“Yeah, well, times change. Fashion changes. You can have the old Amy for a few hours, but I didn’t think I needed to go out and buy clothes and dress like a teenage tom boy again to still be me.”
“I don’t want that you. The you that wants to impress high society or act like a wealthy little brat. I don’t want the you that needs to mug for the attention of people rich enough to afford art that others couldn’t buy if they saved up for a lifetime. I don’t want the you that cares about what people thinks or if her ex creeps her social media.”
Amy’s blue eyes lit up and blazed as she stepped back. He shut the front door, aware that he was stepping all over her toes and walking across every single boundary within the first minute of walking through the door. She swallowed hard and raised her head. Those shoulders went back and he liked that the fury burning in those sea blue depths really was very much like the old Amy he knew. She had been a spitfire back in the day, always willing to stand up to anyone. She didn’t take bullshit and she didn’t let anyone push her around. She didn’t let others define her and she certainly didn’t let circumstance and society tell her who or what she could be.
He closed his eyes for a moment and had a vision of her slapping him for being rude. Which would of course only serve to fire them both up. He’d take her across his knee, lift up that pretty red skirt of hers and smack her right back, right on her curvy, gorgeous bare ass. His vision fast tracked big time, to that skirt being pushed up around her waist as she rode his face…
Fuck me. That is not helping anything here. He ground his teeth together to keep from actually letting out a horrible, pain filled moan. He wouldn’t betray what she was doing to him. He’d managed to keep himself under control until she came after him again. She’d come to his workplace and he’d laid down the law. She’d agreed. There wasn’t any stipulation it had to be that way, but he knew. He knew how the night was going to end up.
Because they both needed it. He knew he did and if she didn’t know, she would, soon enough.
“You have to compromise,” she said, though her voice wasn’t as strong as he hoped it would be. It wasn’t like the old, bossy, Amy he’d been so enamored with at all. This Amy was delicate and unsure, or she was trying to fight the same thing he was.
Yeah right. That’s wishful thinking, at best.
“Compromise on what?”
“I’m not the same Amy I was in high school. No one is the same and if they are, that’s truly pathetic. People get older. They grow up. So tonight, you don’t get that Amy. You get the Amy I am now, when I’m truly alone, in here. When it’s just me and my paintings.”
“But it’s not. Because I’m here.”
“Yes, because you pretty much forced it on me.”
He grinned. “Maybe there’s hope after all. That’s the girl I knew. You were never afraid to put me in my place.”
“No matter what you think of me, I’m still not. I’m not scared to tell you when you’re being an ass.”
“No? And now? You don’t really want me here, but I made you agree to it.”
“I didn’t see the harm in catching up with an old friend. I thought maybe we could have a few drinks and talk and that would be that and then you’d have to help me again, because you promised.”
“Help you win the hearts of people who don’t have any?”
Amy frowned. “That’s mean. And untrue. Some people can act a little callous, but can’t everyone?”
“It wasn’t callousness I was talking about. I’m talking about the blatant disregard for what I would say would be a sacred bond.”
“Like?”
“Marriage. Relationships in general. The people in that room cared a hell of a lot more what other people thought about them, how much their dress cost, how big of a rock they could get, what their tits to waist ratio was and about fucking someone inappropriate than they did about any kind of human connection.”
He waited for Amy to disagree, but she didn’t. She just pursed her lips and turned. “I’m not going to show you the gallery. My art is my own and that wasn’t part of the bargain. If you come upstairs though, I’ll pour us a drink and we can stop talking about those people and start talking about us. I want to relive the past.”
“I thought you said that wasn’t possible.”
“I’ve changed my mind. For the next few hours, you’re going to get the old Amy back by talking about her.”
Sam hesitated. Her eyes shot sparks and her lips pursed into a triumphant smile, like she knew she was able to beat him at his own game. Somewhere between his walking in the front door, he felt like she’d realized that she had the upper hand just by existing. It was the new set of her shoulders, the confidant smirk, the way she slowly turned, like she knew he’d follow her, just because she had something he wanted.
He shrugged, just to throw her off her game, but eventually nodded. They were silent as she led the way through the darkened gallery, up a winding spiral metal staircase, to the second story. She pushed open a heavy wood door and he stepped through, into her inner sanctum.
He just about lost his shit when he realized the entire room was open. It was like a huge hotel room, the kind of suite that has the bed on one end, the cabinets in a line in the middle and a sort of living area right down from that. Which meant right from the get go he had a hell of a view of her made up bed. Which of course stirred up every single emotion he’d tried so hard to banish from his Amy Anders sex clogged brain since the time he was sixteen years old.
Not tonight. I’m done fighting it. She agreed to this. Upper hand or not, he would soon make sure that Amy realized what she should have known all along. He’d make sure of it and have her beg for more.
Chapter 11
Wanting
Amy
For the first time in her life, Amy was certain that Sam wanted something from her. She’d never been sure. Paralyzed by uncertainty, she’d always been too afraid to tell him how she really felt. She didn’t want to risk it all and look like a fool. Instead of staying and ruining everything, she’d left. She’d spent so many years asking herself what her life could have been like if she’d just found the courage to let Sam know what was in her heart.
At least, she thought it was in her heart. Maybe not. Maybe it was just lust. She wasn’t even sure that she entirely liked Sam at the moment and she knew she certainly couldn’t love a stranger, since that’s virtually what he was. He wasn’t the childhood Sam any more th
an she was the childhood Amy that he wanted to have back. She sure as hell felt something, but no, she couldn’t call it love.
“Do you want a drink?
She didn’t know whether she hoped Sam would take her up on it or not. It might relax them both, but it might just make things worse. The way he was looking at her, it was like he wanted to knock her over and devour her. She should have sent him packing and called the whole stupid idea off. She signed up for a fake fiancé not a night of real pleasure. Or did I?
“Yes,” Sam said smoothly.
He pulled a leather upholstered chair away from the round espresso stained table and sat down heavily. He looked almost menacing hunched over, his body far too big for the chair. He rested his hands on the table top. Battle scarred mechanics hands that she wished were on her body.
“Yes?” she whispered breathlessly.
“Yes, I’d like a drink.” He looked at her, amusement flashing in his velvet soft eyes.
Oh. Right. She realized that she was staring at him like a moron at the same time she realized that she’d asked him if he wanted a drink. She barely even remembered making the offer. She felt like she was functioning entirely on autopilot.
“What are you drinking?” She leaned heavily against the counter, so that it dug into her back. It hurt, the sharp edges, but she craved the pain. She found that it grounded her, brought her back to reality. Her head felt like it was filled like fog. Her body, on the other hand, was more alive and aware than it had been in her entire life.
“Guess it depends on what you have.” Sam leaned forward and slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He never tore his eyes from her, as though it was really her he was tasting, not any kind of alcohol.
“I… I have- uh- gin.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Water then?”
“Yes, I have water.”
“Of course you do. You’re standing in front of the kitchen sink.”
She blushed. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”
Fake It: A Sizzling Hot Pretend Romance Page 6
