“Not helping, Ash.”
“Sorry, I suck at this.”
“You’re not great.”
“I’m sorry.” He really looked it, too.
“No, I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I should be cooler. I’m pretty nerdy. I’m a librarian and a piano teacher. I knit.”
“Knitting is cool!” he protested.
“No, knitting is not cool. And I’m sure you expected…I mean, you’re a rock star and I came up to your hotel room, so—”
“No, it’s not like that.”
I looked up at him, arching an eyebrow. He broke into a smile. “OK, so it’s almost always like that. But that’s why I like you! You’re different! You’re real. You’re not like the kind of girls I usually spend time with.”
Why did it feel like he was trying hard to convince me to stay? This whole night was surreal. I figured the second I hesitated, he’d have me out the door so fast my head would spin.
“Give me another chance?” He smiled down at me, all charm.
“I’m not trying to tease you,” I clarified, just to make sure he knew I wasn’t playing games. I really wasn’t.
“No, I get it.” He put his hands up in mock police arrest. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman. I just want to get to know you better.”
He went over to the couch again, sitting down and patting the cushion next to him. “We’ll talk. I promise this time I won’t start threatening to tie you up and spank you.”
Blushing, I had to laugh a little. What he didn’t know was how much that had turned me on. The heat still coiled within me, remembering his touch, wanting more of it.
“Come and talk to me. Tell me, what matters to you?”
I shrugged. “My family.”
“Tell me about them,” he asked. That had to be a safe topic.
“My parents.” I sat next to him, my legs crossed, our bodies not touching. “They had me when they were older. My mother was 40, my father 45. They’d thought that they couldn’t get pregnant. Mom calls me the miracle baby.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling self-conscious. This had to sound really boring to him. “Are you sure you want to hear about my parents?”
“Yes, absolutely.” He fixed all his attention on me, rapt.
“OK,” I agreed. “Well, my father’s an engineer. They moved here about 30 years ago from Russia, hoping for a better life. He was able to find work at a company upstate and they’ve lived in the same small town ever since.”
“Do you see them often?”
“I try to make it up every weekend. My mother’s a great cook and we have dinner together.”
“Do you like spending time with them?”
“Yes.” I answered, honestly. “I mean, they can drive me a little crazy with all their worrying. They’d be much happier if I were already married and pregnant. Or if I’d become a concert pianist. Or both. But, yeah, I like seeing them. I love them.”
“So…” he paused, seeming to find my statement hard to comprehend. “You don’t just love them. You like them, too?”
“Yes,” I laughed, a bit confused at the trouble he was having understanding this. “They’re good people. They’re hard-working and they care about me. Why, don’t you like your parents?”
“My father passed away this summer.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” How painful that must be for him! I knew it was an inevitable event, the natural cycle of life and death, but I hated to think about it.
“We weren’t close. But it’s strange with him gone.” He drew tight and tense for a moment. “But I’d rather hear more about you.” He drew his arm along the back of the couch again. “You’re amazing.” His attention back on me, he looked down as if marveling over a strange, mythical creature.
“The way you’re looking at me.” I shook my head, flushed under his admiration. “I should be looking at you that way. You’re the rock star. I’m just average.”
“I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
I laughed. “You’ve got this all wrong. I’m supposed to be saying that to you.” He brought his hand back to my hair, starting to caress it again as if he couldn’t stop himself. I didn’t want him to. He made me feel so cherished, the way he stroked me and played with the strands of my hair. The quiet jazz, the soft lighting, the musky, masculine scent of him, drawing me near. I think I was the one to kiss him first, leaning in and finding his lips with my own.
With strong, sure arms he eased me onto his lap, holding me there as we kissed. And kissed. No more bondage talk, no more pinching my nipples, just his warm, full lips on my own, drinking me in as if he loved my taste.
“Anika,” he breathed, as if he were enchanted by everything about me. “You’re so gorgeous.”
This time it was me kissing along his jaw, down at his throat. So masculine, so powerful, his shoulders so broad and I could feel his thickly roped muscles in his arms though he still held me loosely, gently.
“Ana,” he groaned deep in his throat as I kissed him, licking the hollow of his neck. He started moving his hands, and I realized how much he’d been holding back, forcing himself to stay still while I kissed. Now his hands encircled my waist, up my back, down at my legs, caressing my bare thighs. Breathing harder, I kissed his mouth again as he worked his way along my inner thigh, stroking, massaging, intimate.
I knew a short while ago I’d told him no, but now all I wanted was him to make his way up, reach my sex, touch me there where I was throbbing and starting to get wet for him. My skirt had already bunched up high. I parted my thighs in invitation.
Slowly, gently, he worked his wicked, magical fingers up the soft skin of my inner thighs. With a soft brush, he grazed me with his knuckle, a light touch to my lacy panties.
I moaned in response, my hands twining into his silky black hair, my lips along his neck. I needed this. I know I’d had my doubts, and I still wasn’t going as far as he’d suggested earlier. But this, I wanted. I wanted him to touch me, stroke me, show me how good he could make me feel.
A finger up now, he drew it along my panties. He hissed appreciatively. “Wet for me, Ana.” He pressed his thick finger into me, running it along my seam. “So wet.” I whimpered it felt so good, and I started to pant as he drew my panties to the side and touched me directly on my wet, throbbing sex.
“So pretty.” He started stroking my pussy, finding my clit and circling it, brushing against it, then bringing his finger up inside my wet heat. “You feel so good.”
“Oh!” I tilted my head back, unable to keep focused enough to continue kissing him, wanting nothing more than this building heat. The way he touched me, coaxing, stroking me so masterfully, up at my clit. Unable to stop myself, I started pressing against him, pushing into his hand, needing more.
“Does that feel good, Ana?” His voice, like dark silk, flowed over my body. His fingers, up inside me, plunged in, fucking me in a steady rhythm. His thumb stroked my clit, strumming me, circling.
“Ash!” I cried out, my hand to his broad shoulder, clutching him, fisting his shirt. I pushed my mound onto his hand, legs spread, lost in sensation. Waves of pleasure rose within me, building up, growing stronger with each stroke.
“Ana,” he murmured, two fingers deep inside me now, sliding in and out as he thrust in a faster rhythm. “Do you like how I fuck you with my fingers?”
“Yes!” I’d never had anyone talk dirty like that to me before, never admitted I liked anything like that.
“Tell me, Anika. Tell me you like my fingers fucking you.”
“Oh!” His words brought me so close. I panted and cried out and dug my nails into his shoulder and hard-muscled chest.
“Say it,” he commanded.
“I love it!” I cried out, bucking into him, his thumb pressing into my aching clit.
“What do you love?” he demanded.
“I love your fingers fucking me, Ash.”
“Yes, that�
��s it.” He coaxed me, praised me, plunging his fingers in deep. “Now, Anika, come for me.”
Pleasure burst from deep within me at his command, welling up and overflowing into every inch of my body.
“Ah! Ash!” I called out, quivering and quaking at his touch, his fingers drawing every last ounce of pleasure from me. Warm, languid, I drifted back, slowly regaining consciousness of sitting there on a couch with Ash Black, his fingers now back at my knee, his mouth at my ear.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, just when I was about to start getting self-conscious. “You’re so sexy, so responsive.” He nuzzled into my hair, breathing me in. “I can’t wait to spend the month with you.”
“Mmm,” I purred in his arms, so warm, so adored. Wait, what had he just said? “Spend the month?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Yes.” He stroked my hair, looking at me hungrily. “We’re going to have a whole month together. Lots of time to do that to you again and again.” He looked into my eyes and I saw so much heat in them, so much passion I nearly got swept away with it all again. Nearly.
“What’s this about a month?” I asked.
“Right, we need to talk about the terms.”
“The terms?” I adjusted myself, settling down again at his side instead of his lap.
“I’ve got an NDA you’ll have to sign. My lawyer Nelson can talk to you about all the details. Or he can talk to your family’s attorney if you have one.”
Lawyers? NDA? What was going on here? “I don’t understand.”
“OK, big picture, I’d like you to pretend to be my girlfriend for the month.”
“Pretend to be your girlfriend for the month?” Was he joking with me? I looked around. Was someone filming us, like on a reality show?
“Yes, one month. We’ll fake having a whirlwind romance. Ice skating at Rockefeller Center, candlelight dinners, you name it. It’ll all be fake, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still have some fun on the side.” He smiled at me. I didn’t smile back.
He continued. “Anyway, I’ll propose to you on New Year’s Eve at my big show in Vegas. And then one month from now, around the middle of January, you’ll break up with me. The average girl, breaking my heart in front of a bunch of cameras. It’ll be huge.”
I stood up. Had he just told me he was going to propose to me on New Year’s Eve? As in ask me to marry him? And then I’d break up with him? Maybe he was insane, completely unhinged. Maybe I’d missed all the signs, too awestruck by his good looks and star status.
“I probably should have had you sign the NDA first. I can tell you’re surprised.” He exhaled, his hand up to his brow once again.
“I don’t even know what an NDA is.”
“A non-disclosure agreement, standard stuff. You agree you won’t discuss this with anyone, no tell-all interviews, books, etc.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Ash?”
“Listen, I probably should have brought this up earlier. But you know this thing with Mandy Monroe?” I nodded, listening with one foot proverbially out the door. “It’s made me look real bad and I need to clean up my image. Make people think I’m not an asshole.”
“So, you want to date me?”
“Just pretend to date you,” he clarified. “You’re perfect. I can’t even believe I ran into you. You’re so sweet and average, a piano-teacher and a librarian.”
Oh. My. God. I was such an idiot. Here, I’d actually thought Ash Black liked me. That he’d met me and somehow been swept away by little old average me. But he only wanted me to play pretend with him, to clean up his image.
“I’ve got to go.” Powered by humiliation, I pushed past him and looked for my coat. Where had he put it when we came in? I’d been too amazed by the view, too blinded by everything around me to see what was actually happening.
“No, don’t go, please.” He got in front of me, both hands up at my shoulders. “You don’t like this idea?”
“No! It’s insane.”
“Where do you want to go, Ana? Cabo? Bali? I’ll take you. You want to go sky diving? We’ll do it. I’ll make it fun for you, I promise. Give you gifts, jewelry, whatever you want.”
“Ash.” I shook my head. This was all ridiculous. I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought he’d liked me. And I’d just let him finger-fuck me on his couch.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, bewildered. He really had no idea why I’d have any reservations. He’d been so sure of himself.
“I thought you liked me.” My voice came out like a whisper and I hated the way it sounded, all young and vulnerable and pathetic. But it was true. It was how I felt.
“I do! I like you, I do.” His empty words rolled down and away like marbles. Like hell, he did.
“Because I’m so wonderfully average.” I would have liked to have sounded light and amused, as if this were a hilarious story I couldn’t wait to tell my roommates. But this one I might not relish sharing, the day I’d met a rock star and been stupid enough to think he actually liked me. Then he’d fingered me until I came and told me I was so average I was perfect to hire as his fake girlfriend to improve his image. Awesome.
“Ana, you’re perfect.”
I looked at him, now knowing my skepticism, my doubts, my ‘this can’t be happening’ feelings should have been what I’d trusted.
“I’m sorry this all came out wrong.” He fumbled for words. “I’d honestly love to hang out with you for the month. And I really need you. I’m desperate.”
I’d desperately needed him, about five minutes ago on the couch when I’d practically humped his hand. How many times would I make a fool out of myself if I allowed myself to spend anymore time with him?
“No sex,” he offered, seeming to read my mind. “We’ll put it in a clause. No sex, no touching even if you don’t want to.”
“I can’t, Ash. I’m sorry.” Why was I apologizing to him? He’d wanted to use me to improve his image, stage something fake to make him look like less of an asshole. What an asshole.
There was my coat, draped over a chair by the door. I bee-lined to it and put it on.
“Wait,” he called after me as I reached for the doorknob. “I have an idea.”
I turned toward him, giving him a moment. I shouldn’t have. I should have kept on walking, but I was too damn polite.
“Didn’t you say something about the library you work in shutting down? How you’re out of money?”
I nodded. “We’ll find out in January. They don’t have enough money to keep all the branches open.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“What?”
“I’ll pay to keep it open. Set up a fund to cover all operating expenses for the next ten years.”
Really? He’d keep the library open? “It’s a lot of money. I don’t even know how much, but it’s a lot.”
He looked at me and I realized he could do it. It wouldn’t even put a dent in his wealth, would it? Holy shit. “Really?”
“Really.” He stood before me, looking dead earnest. “I’ll put it in writing, get everything put in place.”
I thought about it. One month of pretending for years of that library branch staying open. How many years had he promised? “How about twenty?”
“What’s that?”
“You said ten years of operating expenses. I’ll do it for twenty.”
“Done.” He struck out his hand for a shake. I should have asked for thirty.
“And no sex?”
“No sex.” He put his hands up, signaling no contest. Those hands that did such wickedly good work. Could I really be considering this?
“I promise, I’ll make sure you have a good time,” he pleaded with me. “You’ll be backstage at all my shows. We’ll put you up in the best hotels. Who do you want to meet? Anyone famous? I can introduce you.”
You, I thought but didn’t say. He’d been my celebrity crush for who knew how long.
“Please, Ana.” He looked deep into my eyes, his voic
e husky as he added, “I need you.”
Inwardly, I melted. I didn’t stand a chance against this guy. Outwardly, I thought I maintained my composure. All business. “All right.” I stuck out my hand for a deal-sealing shake.
“All right?” His face lit up with delight and even the brief touch of his hand to mine sent a single down my spine.
“OK then.” I quickly took my hand away.
“I’ll have my lawyer send you all the paperwork tonight. You’ll need to sign it ASAP.”
“All right.”
“And tomorrow my family has a huge holiday party. You’ll have to come.”
“OK.” I felt numb, wrapped in cotton. This wasn’t actually happening. I wasn’t actually agreeing to be the pretend girlfriend to rock legend Ash Black, starting tomorrow? Cabo, Bali, jewels, what had he promised me again?
“Thank you. You’ve made me very happy. I’m a lucky man.” He kissed my hand, giving me that panty-melting intense look again as he drew up to his full height and bid me goodnight.
I looked up at him, his dark inviting eyes, his mouth-watering lips. Even though I knew it was all fake, he only liked me because I was so boring and average I’d somehow sell him back to the public’s good graces, I still felt a pull. And I’d just agreed to put myself in close quarters with him for the next month. We’d have to go places together, flirt, hold hands, maybe even kiss for the cameras. A whole month of being so close to those fingers I now knew for certain could bring me nearly mind-shattering bliss.
Uh oh.
“I’m going to enjoy this month very much, Anika.”
“OK then.” I opened the door and walked out into the hallway.
“Good night,” he called after me. I gave him a feeble wave and walked toward the elevator, but it wasn’t until I stepped inside and headed down that I started to breathe again. You couldn’t hold your breath forever.
How was I going to make it through an entire month? What trouble had I gotten myself into now? I had to focus, remember why I was doing it. Even if all I could think about there in the elevator was how I’d felt with his fingers stroking me, coaxing me, making me forget everything but him.
7
Undone: A Fake Fiancé Rockstar Romance Page 8
