The Setup (Faking It Book 2)

by Lila Kane

“And stop fucking apologizing,” he snapped.

  My mouth opened again, but he gently put his hand over it. “Not yet.”

  A shiver raced through me at the feel of it, but I kept my mouth shut and nodded.

  “I didn’t text you because, like I said, I was in a meeting. And then I figured it would be better to talk about this in person so things aren’t misconstrued—”

  “It’s not—I mean, it was my fault. And I understand if you’re angry—”

  “Did I say I was angry?” He wrapped his fingers around my upper arms softly, making chills race through me again. “I said I wanted to talk in person. I’m not angry and I don’t regret what happened last night. I came home early because I wanted to be there, and I thought the evening went okay. No—” He cut me off before I could say anything again—“better than okay.”

  “It was,” I whispered. “I’m glad you were there.”

  “And the rest…” His eyes dropped just briefly. “What happened at the end… I hope you’re not serious about that never happening again. Fuck, I wanted you—that—all of it so bad.”

  My breath hitched as fire danced in his gaze. “But—”

  “Nope, not done talking. I didn’t reciprocate because it felt like I’d be taking advantage of you. You were drinking and vulnerable and it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t want you to regret anything, and I get that I might have shut things down, but I thought I was doing the right thing. If—no, when this happens between us—we’re going to be on the same page. We’re going to do it at the right time, when you want me as badly as I want you.”

  My legs nearly gave out beneath me. I already did want him that badly. But then I realized he said when. Like he was expecting it, knew it was going to happen, but he was going to wait until it was right. Until it meant something more.

  “That make sense?” he asked.

  I swallowed and nodded, squeezing my thighs together because there was definite throbbing between my legs but I refused to act on it like I had last night. I wanted this to be right, too.

  “Say it,” Ben commanded.

  “Yes. I understand.” Then, after a pause, I asked, “Are you finished?”

  He smirked. “Yes.”

  “Then I should go and let you get back to—”

  My breath caught when he spun me around, making my shoulder blades hit the door. I opened my mouth in surprise and then his lips were covering them.

  “I don’t need to get back to work,” he murmured against my mouth.

  “I don’t want to bother you.”

  He ran his lips along my jaw. “Does it look like you’re bothering me?”

  With his hips pressed to mine and his cock nudging my hip, it certainly felt like it.

  “A little,” I said with laughter in my voice.

  “That’s right. And you know the only reason I’m not taking you right here, right now, is because I want you in this all the way. I want you asking for it, telling me what you want and how you want it. I want you to be the one who initiates it. Not when you’re sad or drunk, but when you can barely even stand because you want me so badly.”

  My legs were barely holding me up as it was. Ben was keeping me steady against the door, blocking me in with his body. But I knew exactly what he meant.

  His lips brushed mine again, more gently this time.

  “I appreciate you bringing me lunch,” he whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  His hands slid down my arms and then to my wrists. He squeezed gently. “Will you stay and eat with me?”

  With a breathless nod, I said, “Sure.”

  “Good.” He retreated, putting a healthy distance between us. “I like having you here.”

  I gave him a smile. I agreed. It was nice to be here for someone, to have something to look forward to.

  And the whole dynamic had shifted between us. I’d never planned on doing anything more than fulfill an obligation—an agreement—but things had changed. I just had to make sure my heart was on the same page as my brain.

  And once I did, Ben was mine.

  17

  The world kept trying to keep us apart. Between work and extra meetings, and Libby’s commitments, we could barely find an evening or afternoon to spend together.

  We’d see each other as one was going or the other one was coming home, but it wasn’t enough.

  I ached for her. The entire week, I kept picturing her on my lap again, her mouth a breath from mine and her breasts pressed against my chest.

  On Saturday, I had a meeting with a client that turned into a late lunch, but I raced home afterward, hoping to spend a few hours with her before she went to the theater for the night.

  Unfortunately, when the elevator doors opened, she was already heading in that direction, her purse slung over her shoulder.

  She smiled at me, a smile so wide and sincere, I froze for a moment, swept away by tenderness for her, followed swiftly by longing.

  “Hey,” she said, voice soft. “I wasn’t sure I was going to see you before I left.”

  “I tried to hurry. You’re going already?”

  I took a step closer and loved it when her gaze dropped, sweeping my lips before it came back up to my eyes. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one left affected by our encounter in my office earlier in the week.

  “Mr. Griffin said he wanted to talk and asked if I’d come in early. I thought I’d grab something for him for dinner and head that way.”

  “Oh.” I tried to shove aside the disappointment that threatened to consume me. “Of course.”

  I couldn’t be upset. It was a commitment—and I was the one who’d been gone most of the day.

  “So…” Libby smiled again and then shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d want to come?”

  “To the theater tonight?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yes. I mean—” She laughed and shook her head. “You’re probably tired. It’s not a big deal.”

  It was a big deal. She wanted me to come somewhere important. To see the rest of her life that I hadn’t seen yet. And she wanted to spend time with me.

  “Yes,” I said instantly. “Of course I want to go. Do I have time to shower? I’ll be quick.”

  She glanced at her phone. “Sure. I’ll text Mr. Griffin and tell him we’re leaving soon.”

  Half of me just wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless, just because I wanted her to know how much this meant to me. It meant she was starting to trust me again.

  But there would be time for that.

  I hurried in the shower and dressed in something casual like Libby had. Dark jeans and a cashmere sweater.

  And when I returned to the living room, I almost released a breath of relief. Like I’d thought maybe she left without me or changed her mind.

  But she stood there, in front of the windows, waiting for me. I took a moment to watch her, to feel the slight squeeze in my heart that nearly staggered me.

  Libby was here. With me.

  And I had another chance.

  I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. She pulled in a surprised breath and turned in my arms.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Her hands moved up to my shoulders. “It’s fine.”

  “Thanks for inviting me to come tonight.”

  Her smile seemed lit from within. “Of course. I want you there.”

  I lowered my head to kiss her softly on the lips, keeping it sweet even though I wanted that heat. My body was on high alert around her all the time now, waiting for that cue, that moment when she was ready to take it to the next level.

  She breathed out and then bowed her forehead against my chest, as though she was torn as much as I was.

  “All right,” she whispered, and it sounded like there was a smile in her voice. “Ready to go?”

  It took a Herculean effort to step away from her, but I did. I took her hand, kissed her knuckles and nodded. “Yes.”


  We rode down the elevator hand in hand and then took a car to theater, keeping it all low-key, which I think Libby appreciated. When we pulled up along the side of the road, I looked out at the historic building, taking in everything Libby seemed to appreciate about it.

  The structure was made of solid brick and a small balcony stretched across the second level. The marquee was lit up but lightbulbs were out and you could hardly make out what was being displayed.

  It had a good look and feel, a certain charm, but it was clear that the place had seen better days. However, I could see what Libby saw in it, and it had a certain gothic 1920s feel that would go over well with people if it was fixed up.

  “It’s amazing,” I told Libby as we stepped out of the car.

  I held out my hand for her and she smiled up at me as she stepped to my side.

  “It is, isn’t it? Mr. Griffin has owned it almost his whole life and it’s been in the family for nearly as long. They used to only have live shows.” She looked up at the marquee and the lights reflected in her eyes. “They showed all sorts of off-Broadway musicals.”

  I turned back to her and met her eyes. “And you want to buy it,” I said as the idea hit me. Of course. I should have seen it sooner.

  “What?” She blinked. “How did you know?”

  “How could I not? It’s a passion. And you mentioned Mr. Griffin needing to sell but trying to hang onto it.”

  I didn’t tell her the rest, that I knew the building was almost in foreclosure. I’d checked on it last week and noticed that his bank was one we did business with.

  If I had to guess, I’d say Griffin was just hanging onto it because he knew how badly Libby wanted it.

  “You should see pictures of what it used to look like. If I could make it anything like it was, restore it, we could have real shows here. The kids from the community center would love that. They’d have a real-life stage to perform on. And they—”

  She broke off and dropped her chin, shaking her head.

  “What?” I asked, stepping closer.

  “It’s just…” She gave a wistful smile. “Dreams.”

  I lifted her chin with my finger. “Your dreams. I want to hear about them. All of them.” And fuck, why couldn’t she see that? Her cares, hopes, and dreams were mine now.

  And that was how I wanted it.

  She stepped back and gestured to the door. “We should probably give Mr. Griffin his food before it gets cold.”

  I resisted the urge to sigh. We were so close to another one of those moments, the ones that showed again that she was learning to trust me. Learning that I wanted more than just a one-night stand.

  But I kept my mouth shut and took her hand again to guide her inside. The lobby of the theater held as much charm as the outside. Mr. Griffin greeted us near the concession stand, which smelled like popcorn and looked like an old soda fountain.

  Libby gave him a hug and handed over the bag. “We brought dinner,” she said with a smile, then glanced at me. “This is my friend Ben. Ben, Mr. Griffin. Ben is a recent classic movie enthusiast.”

  I shook Mr. Griffin’s hand with a grin. I wasn’t going to correct Libby, though I technically hadn’t watched more than thirty minutes of the movie. But, like I said before, Libby’s passions were now mine.

  Mr. Griffin’s eyes twinkled. “Thank you for dinner. And I’m glad you came with a friend.”

  “Sorry we’re late,” she said as he walked further into the building.

  “It’s not a problem at all. I’m just glad you’re here.”

  “Was there something you needed help with?” I asked, looking around. He’d asked Libby here for a reason, and I didn’t mind helping if there was something he needed done.

  Mr. Griffin smiled at me and then winked at Libby. “I think you found yourself a keeper.”

  I saw her flush and didn’t miss the small grin she gave before Mr. Griffin continued.

  “It’s nothing special,” he said. “I just wanted to talk with an old friend. Before I forget…” He reached into his back pocket to pull out an envelope. He passed it over to Libby and put his hand over hers. “This is for you. For later.”

  Libby turned the envelope over in her hands before putting it in her purse. “Is everything okay?”

  Mr. Griffin winked again. “Never been better. You read that later. But now, your customers await.”

  Libby laughed and waved at Mr. Griffin when he walked off to finish his nightly duties. I followed her down a hallway and upstairs, where the original balconies had been converted to projector booths.

  Libby checked her phone. “They’ll all be here in about thirty minutes. Just enough time to get the film ready.”

  “You don’t mind if I watch, do you?”

  She pulled film from a metal canister. “Sure. It’s almost like art, you know. Doing it the old-fashioned way. Back then, they had to thread the projector before every show and once they started showing trailers, they had to splice together each section and then watch the movies before they released them to make sure everything was smooth.”

  I watched her hands as they moved deftly over the film, winding it into the projector like she did this in her sleep.

  She glanced over with a smile. “Would you like to try?”

  “Me?” I gave a short laugh and moved closer, but only because I wanted to be closer to her. “Not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Come on, it’s fun.”

  I grinned. “I believe you.”

  But I’d rather watch her, maybe torture myself by standing close enough to her to touch her but forcing myself to keep my hands to myself because I knew she had work to do.

  “Ben,” she whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “I can feel your breath on my neck,” she said. “It’s…kind of distracting me.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  She turned quickly and shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I want a distraction—this distraction. You told me that I had to be the one to initiate it.” She ventured a smile that was endearing and sexy at the same time. “That you wanted me to be the one to say something when I realized how much I wanted you.”

  My heart rate kicked up a few notches and my gaze dropped her lips, surprised that here of all places, she realized how much she wanted me.

  Surprised it had happened so soon.

  She reached out to touch my cheek, to brush her thumb on my jaw. “I want you.”

  My cock went rock hard, sending desire pulsing through my entire body. The need was instant and complete, and perfectly bad timing.

  “Libby,” I warned, my voice low and strained.

  Her gaze flickered with amusement. “I’m not drunk, as you well know.”

  I gave a short laugh. “I know. That’s not the problem.”

  Her lips moved in a pout. “There’s a problem?”

  Fuck. No. And yes. “Everyone is going to be here soon and you say this to me now?”

  I couldn’t stop the images of her pressed against the wall of the booth while I slid my hands under her shirt and pinned her body with mine. As I ran my fingers down her stomach and dipped into her pants to feel her heat.

  “We still have a few minutes,” she murmured.

  My control broke, and I grabbed her waist, swiveling her so her back was against the wall I’d just imagined her shoved against. My mouth was on hers in an instant, my fingers diving into her hair.

  She gave a low moan that only fueled my hunger for her.

  “God, Ben,” she said, voice breathless when my lips moved away from hers to kiss her cheek. “I want you so badly right now.”

  She might as well have told me this was the last time I was going to be able to touch her because there was nothing in this moment that would make me take my hands from her body. I captured her wrists in the grip of one hand and pinned them to the wall over her head.

  Her breath caught and her eyes went blurry. She made a noise of disapproval. “I want to touch you,” she gasped.r />
  “And if you do, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

  Her eyes locked on mine in surprise. It was the truth. We didn’t have much time, and if her hands moved anywhere on my body, I didn’t think I could hold back.

  “Ben—”

  “Not yet,” I said, tracing my free hand over her cheekbone and brushing her lip with my thumb. “Just give me this…”

  Her lips moved to press a kiss to the pad of my thumb while I held her captive. Then I let my hand slid lower, over her collarbone, over her racing heart, and to her breast. The nipple was hard beneath her shirt, turning me on even further.

  She exhaled when I brushed my thumb there as well, and her lips parted. “Ben…”

  I gave a little when she leaned in, clearly wanting her mouth on mine. I released her wrists and her arms immediately came around my neck as she fused herself against my body. I was hard as a rock, my cock digging into her hip, aching for a release I knew I wasn’t going to get right now.

  But I couldn’t seem to stop.

  I gripped her ass and held her closer, making her moan. She moved against my hips, the friction another jolt of pure pleasure.

  “I want you in me,” she gasped, running one hand up my chest. And then I want my mouth on you—”

  “Libby,” I growled with warning again.

  She didn’t say more, just slid her tongue along the seam of my lips as her hand moved lower to lift the hem of my shirt.

  My belly quivered when she touched just above the button to my pants. Her hands were like silk, and I imagined them wrapping around my cock, running up and down the shaft.

  I followed her motions, moving my hand between us and slipping it into her jeans. Her skin was just as smooth as I moved down further, cupping her heat.

  “Ben,” she said, heart hammering against her chest. Shaking us both. “Please.”

  “You want this here?” I asked, making sure. “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  Which is what I’d asked for, what I’d wanted. For her to be out of her mind with need for me. For her to tell me that she wanted me so I’d know we were on the same page.

  I dipped one finger inside of her and felt her shudder. Her hands clenched on my sweater as her breath came out in sharp pants.