Practice Makes Perfect: A Fake Fiancée Romance

by Morgan Rae

  “It’s not much, I’m afraid,” he apologizes.

  “How many women have been in this bed?” I ask before I realize how terrible the question sounds.

  “None,” he answers without missing a beat. “You’re the first I’ve ever taken home.”

  My heart beats faster at the revelation. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but Damien Blaze is pulling out all the stops for me.

  “The more I get to know you, the harder I fall for you,” I murmur as I pull him into another lasting kiss.

  I’m still slung in his low embrace and we kiss for a long moment, savoring each other. Damien pushes his pants off his hips and drops them to the floor. His erection pops out from his briefs, his passion swollen and all mine. My mouth goes dry just at the sight of him and my thighs clench in anticipation.

  Damien stands at the edge of the bed, takes a hold of my hips, and yanks me towards him. He drapes my legs over his shoulders and plunges inside of me. His eyes stay on mine, but I feel my eyelids flutter as I moan. He’s so deep inside of me at this angle, and he feels so good, that I might cum right then and there.

  “You haven’t been with anyone since our time on the island,” Damien says suddenly. “Have you?”

  I blink as I try to get my bearings. “How do you know?”

  “You’re tight.”

  I swallow hard. “I’m not used to your size anymore.”

  “You will be.”

  Damien says it so casually, he doesn’t know how to be anything but possessive. There’s a fire burning behind those sharply blue eyes and it makes me tremble with lust.

  He’s shaping me like pliable clay until I become the woman he knows me to be. There’s no pressure from him, just support, love. And I feel it every time he fills me with his manhood and his thumbs rub small circles into my ankles. My feet are propped by his head and, as he pushes deep inside of me, his hands slip up to cup my feet. Eyes locked on mine, he presses a small kiss to my big toe.

  How can he be both filthy erotic and worship me at the same time? He presses his thumbs into the arch of my heel and a hot bolt of pleasure rushes up my legs and hits me straight between my thighs.

  I gasp sharply and twist the sheets underneath my fingers. Did I just orgasm again? The pleasure is so overwhelming and my body clings to him in tiny pulses. It’s as though he’s made my entire body an erogenous zone and my legs begin to quiver from the intensity of it all.

  Damien lowers my legs from his shoulders and lets them fall to either side of the bed. He removes his manhood, eliciting a low groan from me.

  “I don’t know how much more I can take,” I breathe.

  “You can take a little more,” he informs me. He knows my body better than I do. He knows exactly how to touch me, kiss me, and fuck me to melt me into a mewling puddle of lust.

  “On your hands and knees,” Damien instructs. I do as I’m told, crawling into the middle of his bed. I feel the mattress bend under his weight as he moves behind me. When he sheaths himself inside of me again, it feels like he belongs there. I whimper and push my hips back, taking as much of him as I can.

  The warmth of his chest on my back is soothing, comforting. He presses small, adoring kisses across my back, from one shoulder to the other. He reaches underneath me and cups his hand between my legs, his fingers toying with my sex until he finds that sensitive bundle. His dexterous fingers play me skillfully as he pounds into me hard.

  I shove my face into the pillow so my screams don’t carry through the neighborhood. The pillowcase smells like him, tea leaves and sandalwood. This intimacy is more than skin deep. I’ve let him in my body and he’s let me into his heart.

  He moans lowly in my ear as his cock throbs inside of me. He’s close. I reach back and press my hand against his chest and dig my nails in there. “Wait…wait,” I whisper. “Turn me around. I want to look into your eyes.”

  Damien spins me around so I’m flat on my back. I look up into him as he plunges his iron hard manhood back inside of me.

  I become lost in his deep, soulful, loving eyes.

  “I love you,” he says.

  “I love you, too,” I tell him. The sincerity of my statement makes my voice crack, so I repeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  I cling to him, but my gaze never leaves his, not once, not even as we crest together. I cry out and he gasps, as he spills into me and I give him my final, most powerful orgasm.

  He’s panting beside me as I start to sniffle.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I chuckle and wipe my eyes. “I’ve got to stop crying every time we have sex.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you.” Damien pushes himself up and cups my face, brushing a tear under his thumb. “I find you incredibly beautiful when you cry.”

  “You do?”

  He nods. “You’re not hiding from me. Not anymore.”

  “And I never will,” I whisper. “I promise.”

  Damien kisses me and warms my lips against his. His kiss is so soft, so tender, and I wrap my arms around him and drink in his love.

  “I love you,” Damien says, “Every bit of you. Even the bits you don’t like.”

  I squint. “All of it?”

  He nods. “Here.” He presses a kiss under my ear. “And here.” He presses a kiss to my throat. Damien covers me in small, adoring kisses and for the first time in my life, I feel safe. I feel happy in my own skin. I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be, wrapped up in Damien’s arms.

  I don’t remember falling asleep like this, but I do. Even babies don’t sleep this well, not the way Damien cradles me in his strong arms.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: DAMIEN

  Nancy looks like an angel in my arms.

  There’s some special quality about her when she’s sleeping. For once she’s comfortable, free from all the anxiety and complexities that tangle around her mind during the day.

  I can’t wake her, not when she looks so peaceful like this. Her body heat feels so warm, especially where her heart presses against mine, and I linger in the feeling for as long as I can. Eventually, the call of nature urges me out of bed and I unwind from her. On my way to the bathroom, I notice my body feels sore. I used muscles last night I haven’t used in months. It’s a delicious, spent soreness and I revel in it.

  I relieve myself, brush my teeth, and wash my mouth in the sink. When I look in the mirror I finally see me again.

  There is a life in my face I haven’t seen in quite some time. I’ve been nothing but paranoid and frayed these past few months. Now? I feel full, complete. The part of me that was missing has come back.

  She’s still sleeping when I return to the bedroom. I pull a pair of sweatpants over my hips and make my way downstairs.

  Breakfast in bed, that’s romantic, isn’t it? My idea of romance is what I’ve garnered from old movies, but it’s been a while since I’ve experienced anything like that first hand. I open up my fridge and begin to rifle through it.

  I decide on omelets and stir them up. As the eggs are cooking in the pan, I get a pot of coffee going. It’s incredibly domestic and, truth be told, I love it. I’m tired of waking up to an empty bed. I’ll make her breakfast in bed every morning if it keeps Nancy beside me.

  As I’m plating the omelets, a flash of light blinks through the room. I swivel around until I see the source of the light.

  Outside, in a Mercedes-Benz, sits a familiar face.

  My jaw clenches.

  Breakfast in bed will have to wait. Ignoring the fact that I’m still shirtless and barefoot, I exit my house and walk through the short lawn to get to the car.

  Jack Raleigh’s eyes go wide when he sees me approaching his car. He drops his camera into his lap and starts to roll up his window.

  I put my hand on the window, forcing him to halt. I will break this car if I have to, but I’m hoping it doesn’t get to that point.

  “Jack,” I bare my teeth in a sm
ile. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I know she’s in there,” Jack barks like an overly caffeinated terrier. It probably has something to do with the multitude of empty Starbucks cups in his cup holders “I have pictures of it. Nancy. Everything. You should learn to close your blinds.”

  “I see. May I see that?”

  Without waiting for Jack to respond, I reach in and grab his camera. He tries to take it back, but I’ve already pulled it out of his reach. I rear back and toss it. He lets out a pained yelp as the camera flies out into the LA skyline and over the cliff.

  “I can sue you for that!” he snaps.

  “Please do,” I tell him. “Just leave Nancy out of this.”

  He’s nearly foaming at the bit as he fumbles to put his car into gear. I lean in the window.

  “Jack?”

  “What?”

  “If you so much as mention Nancy’s name in the tabloids, I will end you. Personally. I’m sure Nancy knows plenty of secrets about you that you wouldn’t want seeing the light of day.” Jack stills and I know I have him. “Are we clear, Jack?”

  “Crystal,” Jack says. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a light tremor in his voice.

  I pat the side of his car heavily and he winces. “Cheers,” I tell him.

  Jack grumbles a string of swears as his car roars and peels out down the street. I step away to let him leave and turn back to my house.

  Nancy is standing in my open doorway. She’s wearing one of my band shirts and it swallows her. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail yet she looks like a dream.

  I wince when I see her. I was hoping she would have missed my little confrontation with her former boss.

  “That was Jack, wasn’t it?” Nancy asks when I approach her.

  I nod. “He’s looking for gossip. Nothing more. I told him to sod off.”

  Nancy rewards me with a smile. “I’m sure he took that well.”

  “Incredibly, actually.”

  “You know they’re not all going to be that easy to scare away.”

  “I know. If anyone understands the tenacity of the paparazzi, it’s me.” I wrap my arms around her and Nancy falls back, leaning against my chest. I press a kiss to her ear. “We’ll go public later. I only want twenty-four hours more of this. No cameras. Just us.”

  A smile curls the corner of her mouth. “Mm. What could we possibly do for twenty-four hours?” she asks suggestively.

  “I thought you could tell me about you.” Nancy unravels herself from me and turns to face me. Her eyebrow lifts quizzically, so I elaborate, “Everything. Your star sign. Your deepest fear. The name of the street you grew up on. I want to know it all.”

  Her soft brown eyes stare up at me, lost in thought. It’s as though she’s flipping through all the pages of her story in her head, looking for the right chapter to start on. Finally, she opens her mouth and takes in a little breath.

  That, I think to myself. That’s it.

  That sound, the small intake of breath, that private, intimate gasp that anyone else might miss is mine, that noise she makes before she spills her life’s story is mine. That’s one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.

  It’s the sound I will forever associate with Nancy Harper. I lost it once before, but never again.

  Nancy is mine, and I am hers. Heart, body, and soul.

  Forever.

  EPILOGUE

  Clink clink clink… The sound of metal striking gently against lead crystal makes everyone seated around the long banquet tables turn, even me. I smile when I see that Damien has gone up front and holds a wine goblet in his hand, a sheepish smile on his face. It’s so unlike the cocky attention-seeker most of the world knows him to be. This is the expression of a man who’s gotten so much more than he ever thought he could have, and yet somehow, is still getting more.

  He doesn’t know the half of it, I think to myself with a smile.

  “Uh… welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending this evening, and thank you for the lovely dinner. It was the icing on the cake to an already unexpected honor,” he begins, his eyes scanning the fifty or so guests seated at the tables around the room.

  “Don’t be shy, you totally deserved it,” Randall calls out from his seat nearby. Damien grins, and cocks his head in the direction of the six Grammys in front of his plate.

  “Well, I can’t agree with you there. I worked hard for them, but there was a lot of talent in the nominees this year and I’m truly humbled to have been chosen. I’m also truly humbled when I think of all the people who had my back all this time.”

  He stops and looks around the room, listing various supporting friends and professionals by name. He stops when he looks at Randall and his growing family—two daughters now, and yet another one on the way—but when his eyes meet mine, there isn’t a sound in the room. Well, there might have been, but I never heard it. It wasn’t until his overjoyed smile begins to blur that I realize I’m crying.

  “But more than any possible honor or trophy or gold record—”

  “Make that platinum, buddy!” Damien’s manager calls out to the crowd’s delight.

  “—sorry, I didn’t realize the latest numbers were in, Martin. Sorry, platinum records… those things are just that. Things. I would give them all up in a heartbeat because they pale in comparison to the greatest gift I’ve ever received. My wife, ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Blaze.”

  A round of applause breaks out around the room and I can feel a slight blush creep up to warm my cheeks. I can’t help it, I break out in a 100-watt smile at the sight of Damien’s adoring gaze.

  “So anyway, thank you all for supporting me, believing in me, and at least in Nancy’s case, making me a better man. Thank you.” He nods curtly and steps down, then hurries back to his empty seat beside me.

  “That was very eloquent,” I say as I move closer and kiss him on the lips. He returns my kiss but a loud cough of annoyance on my other side breaks us apart.

  “Just once it’d be nice to hear ‘thanks for building that practice space in the garage, Dad,’ or something to that effect,” my father-in-law says, his British accent barely out of place in this room of rock industry people. “Or perhaps something along the lines of, ‘And the Grammy goes to Lawrence Surrey,’ rather than this Blaze fellow you’ve created.”

  I wince at Damien before turning around and giving Lawrence Sr. my best smile. “Can I get you another glass of champagne, Dad?”

  “No, no, dear. My son can do that when he’s not busy. But I guess with all the attention I’d die of parch first.” He sniffs and looks away, but not before I can see the small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He’s deathly proud of his son and we all know it, but complaining is his hobby.

  “Besides dear, you don’t need to be wobbling on those high heels… not in your condition,” my mother-in-law adds, trying to whisper the last part but failing miserably. My eyes go wide with fear when I hear Damien choke on a sip of his drink behind me.

  “In your what?” he hisses, his eyes darting around to see who else heard.

  I turn back to face him and try to gauge just how upset he is. It’s pretty bad from the looks of it, but I can see that most of his upset is from trying to process what he accidentally heard.

  “Yeah, didn’t you get the email?” Randall says from his seat on Damien’s other side, laughing at getting one over on his old band mate. “Or was it a tweet? I can’t remember. Tell me, Lacy, what ‘news outlet’ broke the story? It wasn’t that old rag Nan used to write for, was it?”

  “Nancy?” Damien whispers, shutting out the rest of the room. “Tabloid fodder is one thing, but my mum isn’t given to gossip rags. What is she talking about?”

  “Um… here’s the thing,” I begin, but I don’t have to say anything else.

  “And it’s a girl!” Lacy practically shouts. It’s obvious she has no idea that Damien is only hearing of this now. “Randa
ll won’t be the only rocker dad trying to figure out the ins and outs of hair bows and pony playdates!”

  Damien is flustered, and his anxiety at the whole evening is about to crash land on him. I take both of his hands and look him in the face.

  “Damien, I was going to tell you… but there was just never a good time.”

  “Never a good time to tell me that I’m going to be a father? And you’ve been keeping it from me long enough to already find out the gender? Nan, I thought we had a rule about secrets…you swore to me.” The hurt in his voice digs all the way through my heart and directly into my spine.

  “It wasn’t a secret, I promise! It was more like I wanted to wait for the right moment, a special moment, but with the new album and the publicity tours and then your Grammy nomination and all that chaos… there was never any time to ourselves for me to tell you the right way. Are you mad?”

  “What? No! Of course I’m not mad!” he half-shouts before lowering his voice and looking over my shoulder to catch his mother’s disapproving look. “I just… I wish I’d known. And that my mum didn’t know the good news before I did. Really I just wish you hadn’t believed that some album or interview circuit could ever be more important than what’s happening to you. What’s happening to us.”

  He stopped, speechless while the room around us continued their buzz and conversations, unaware of the weight of the moment. He looked down at my stomach with an expression of pained awe before looking back at my hopeful face.

  “Is it really true? I’m going to be a dad?” he whispers.

  “It’s true,” I reply, nodding and fighting back the tears that sting at my eyes. “We’re going to be a family.”

  “No! Stop right there!” Damien insists, catching my cheeks in both of his hands and leaning close. Somewhere in the background I hear the ominous tell-tale click of a camera shutter stealing this moment, probably for publication somewhere, but I don’t care.