Faking It For Mr. Right

by Penny Wylder

  He tilts closer to me once more. “What do you say?” His voice comes out a whisper. A breath.

  My eyes flash back up to his, challenging. “I might need a little more persuasion…” I whisper, barely able to voice the words. But as I say them, it makes me bolder. I reach up to twine my arms around his neck and bury my hands in his smooth, soft hair.

  His grin turns sharp, and without another word, he closes the gap between us entirely. His lips collide with mine, sinking into them, and I tilt my head with a sigh, letting him take control, falling into him. His lips work against mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth to claim it. I let my head fall back and my tongue wrestles with his as our lips work together, my heart racing so hard it feels like it could beat straight out of my chest.

  I want him.

  And right now, with his hands sliding down my body, over my curves, to settle on my hips and grip hard, yanking me closer to him, my chest pressed flat against his muscular one… Right now, I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t give in to this sensation.

  Like he said, we’d be having fun together. Enjoying ourselves. Traveling and living in New York City and having wild, incredible sex on top of that. Everything I could ever ask for. And at the end of it all, he gives me enough money to pay myself out of debt.

  It’s a dream come true.

  No, more than that. It’s not even a dream I’d ever dared to dream, because it seemed too huge and impossible to ask for. It would solve all my problems in one fell swoop. All I have to do is pretend to be about to marry the hottest man I’ve ever met. The first man in years—or maybe ever—to ignite me with a single glance.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  We break apart, and I tilt my head forward, my forehead resting against his so I can gaze into his eyes. “Okay,” I breathe. And it feels like both the best and most terrifying decision I’ve ever made in my life.

  5

  Melanie

  I sink a little lower in the airport lounge chair, my phone open to Devan’s latest text.

  Be careful. Seriously, Mel. Remember how hurt you were when he left last time? And you’d only known him for a single night back then. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.

  You and me both, I think with a sigh. Part of me wonders if I did the right thing, telling Devan what I told her about Xander. I didn’t explain everything—I didn’t mention the whole fake fiancée bargain. It still seems too good to be true, and the part of me that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop doesn’t want Devan to know how much I’m bargaining on this. Going out of town for this long almost certainly means I’m going to get fired from Bob’s. Not to mention I’m leaving the only home I’ve ever known. Giving up familiarity and my safety net, all for the promises of a guy I barely know.

  What could possibly go wrong? I ask myself for the hundredth time, and now I think I finally know the answer: Everything.

  So I told Devan that Xander wanted to try dating, and that he’d invited me for a trip down to New York City with him. I told her I’d be back by the end of the week. Then I called Bob and pretended to be sick. Devan’s covering the few of my shifts I was scheduled for. If I need more time off at the end of all this, then… well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  Maybe this big gamble will pay off, and I can finally tell Bob where I’d like him to shove it.

  Or maybe by the end of the week I’ll be slinking back home with no more money than I started with, heartbroken and betrayed all at once. Who knows?

  I shake my head and focus on the airport window again.

  “You all right?” Xander takes the seat beside me and hands over the coffee he went to grab for both of us. It startles me out of my reverie, and I accept it with a weak smile.

  “Fine,” I say, which only makes him arch an eyebrow, clearly doubting it. The fact that he’s able to read me so easily at least makes me smile, just a little. I bow my head, relenting. “Devan is mother hen-ing. She’s worried about me running away to New York with a guy I barely know. Especially a guy who she thought I was doing a No Strings Attached thing with, who suddenly wants to get serious.”

  His eyes flash. “I see.” He reaches over to twine a hand through mine. The gesture feels so natural. So normal.

  It makes me disentangle my hand, suddenly uncomfortable at the thoughts racing through my mind. The last thing I can afford to do is think about this like a real relationship. I need to remember that it’s business; nothing more. Xander made that perfectly clear when he “proposed.”

  I reach for my coffee as an excuse and wrap both hands around the hot cup.

  Xander looks at my hands, but if he wants to protest, he bites his tongue on it. “It’s probably a good thing she’s worried,” he says, which makes my eyebrows shoot skyward.

  “What?”

  “It means she really cares about you. She’s a good friend. Any friend would be worried on behalf of a friend doing something impulsive like this.” His smile widens. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. Just means that you’ve got someone in your corner.”

  I can’t help it. I smile back at him. “I didn’t think of it like that…” I say slowly. My gaze drifts away. “But you’re right. Devan’s always had my back. Especially lately.”

  He doesn’t ask, but I can feel the curiosity practically radiating off of him. When I steal another glance over, I find him watching me quietly, waiting for me to offer more. Not wanting to push me to reveal more than I’m ready to, I guess.

  But to my surprise, I realize that I want to talk about this. I want to get deeper with Xander. Even if this is just a business relationship, it’s still a relationship of sorts. And we should both know one another. What we’re getting into. If nothing else, it will help convince his father that our faux engagement is a real one. “My mother passed away two years ago,” I murmur. “She fought for a long time—cancer. But in the end, it was too much.”

  I don’t mention how deep in debt I am from all of her medical bills. It doesn’t feel right to complain about that. After all, I loved my mother. I would have done anything in the world to help her fight. I still would, if I could. So I was happy to pay all of that money, to sign her up for all the experimental trials. To do everything we could, test every trick in the book to fight her illness.

  But now… Now, she’s gone, and I’m left to pick up the pieces. To pay off amounts I could never manage to repay, without Xander’s offer.

  I swallow hard around a lump in my throat. Yet again.

  “I’m so sorry, Melanie.” Xander’s palm comes to rest over mine again, and this time, I don’t shy away from his touch.

  A buzzer sounds, followed by a garbled announcement. The plane is boarding. I stand, Xander following. “It’s in the past,” I say. “I still miss her. I always will. But without her… Devan’s the only real family I have left.”

  Xander’s hand squeezes mine with understanding as he leads our way toward the front of the line. Even though there are a ton of other passengers lined up already, Xander heads for the front counter, and after one look at our tickets, the attendant waves us to the front. “Right this way for first class,” she replies with a broad smile.

  I don’t realize what that means until we enter the plane. When we get there, my jaw drops. The seats are huge. Bigger than the whole front half of my car. And it looks like they recline all the way back and turn into beds.

  I’m still gaping at the seats when another flight attendant appears with a tray of sparkling wine flutes. “Champagne?” she asks.

  I blink a few times as Xander takes one and hands the other to me. Then he bursts out laughing, probably at the stunned expression on my face. “Haven’t you ever flown first class before?” he asks.

  “I’ve never flown before period,” I respond.

  Now it’s his turn to look stunned, his eyebrows flying up. “Really? Never?”

  I shrug and look away, feeling my cheeks heat up. “My family worked hard, but we nev
er exactly had a lot of spare cash lying around. Not enough to go on a trip long enough or far enough away to justify flying, anyway. When we managed to go on vacation, it was driving up to the nearest lake and chilling on the beach for a few days or visiting my grandmother. That kind of thing.”

  When I glance back over, Xander’s watching me, thoughtful.

  It makes my blush even worse. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” I mumble. “I know it’s weird. We just didn’t have any money for luxurious stuff, you know?”

  “It’s not weird,” he replies right away. “I just never considered before what that would be like.” His expression turns inward, and he grimaces a little. “My family never exactly tended to branch out, socially. It’s making me realize how many interesting people I’m missing out on because I never hung out outside of our, ah…”

  “Social class?” I respond with a wryly arched eyebrow.

  He chuckles softly. But he nods, too. “Of course, that’s changed since I’ve started traveling more for the company, visiting a lot of the farms we sponsor. But talking to you makes me think about that even more.”

  “Don’t feel guilty,” I blurt. “I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault you were born with more wealth than most people, I’m not trying to say that.”

  “I know.” His smile widens. “I don’t feel guilty, Melanie.”

  “Then why are you looking at me like that?” I reply pointedly, crossing my arms.

  He chuckles softly and reaches out his glass of champagne. After a second’s hesitation, I lift mine too, and he taps his glass against mine with a faint, high-pitched ringing sound. “Because,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. He leans in closer, so his breath tickles my neck when he continues speaking, low enough that the flight attendant nearby still serving the other passengers won’t hear us. “It makes me want to spoil you rotten, my dear.”

  My cheeks flush all over again, for a completely different reason this time. His hot breath on my skin reminds me of the night we spent together under the stars, out in the open. It makes my breath hitch in my chest. And when the plane starts up, rumbling beneath our feet, it makes me wonder exactly how deep in over my head I’m about to be.

  After all, the moment this plane leaves the ground, we won’t be in my familiar world anymore. We’ll be in Xander’s. And I have a feeling that he means what he says about spoiling me. The adventure is only just getting started.

  6

  Melanie

  Takeoff isn’t as bad as I expect it to be. I white-knuckle the seat, sure. But I also have Xander right next to me, his steadying hand on my forearm, his voice low and steady in my ear, whispering that this will be all right, that he’s flown hundreds upon hundreds of times.

  “Does it always feel this bumpy?” I ask as the plane shudders higher and higher in the sky.

  “At first,” he says. “But it will level off once we reach altitude.” And it does, eventually evening itself out in midair. When that happens, the seatbelt signs ding off, and I relax for the first time since the roar of us speeding down the runway at speeds I’d never personally experienced in my life began.

  Without the plane making my heart race, there’s only Xander left to do the trick. He catches my eye and grins, leaning over me with exaggerated slowness, his hand sliding along my waist. It makes my breath hitch in my throat… until he grasps the clasp of my seatbelt and unhooks it.

  “You can take that off now,” he whispers with a wink, and I laugh, breathily.

  Then, feeling bold, after surviving my first trip up into the air, I lean in and close the distance between us to steal a kiss. It’s soft, quick, chaste. Just a peck on the cheek really. But it makes him smile even wider.

  “You know we don’t have to start pretending yet,” he points out. “If you don’t want to.”

  “I want to,” I reply, my boldness surprising even me. But I keep my eyes locked on his. “I mean… it will make it more convincing when we meet your family and your father, right? If we… have chemistry.”

  He chuckles softly. “You’re so committed to the role. Are you sure you aren’t an actress?”

  I smirk. “Not an acting gene in my body,” I respond. “Which is probably why, yes, I think practice will be a good idea.”

  He tilts his head to one side, studying me. “And is practice the only reason you’d like us to start pretending our engagement is real now?”

  My cheeks, which had only just calmed down after my last blush, heat up once more. “You did say we could have all the fun we wanted while we were doing this,” I point out.

  “I see.” He arches an eyebrow. “And what fun are you interested in having, exactly?” He’s just teasing me now. I can see it in his eyes, in his bemused expression. He wants me to be the one to make the first move. He wants me to ask for this.

  I reach up to twirl a free strand of hair around my index finger. Two can play at this game. “Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the same kind of fun we had at a certain overlook point, back in a little town you may remember visiting once. Unless, of course, you’re opposed to mixing business and pleasure.”

  “Not at all.” His eyes could start a small forest fire at the moment, they burn so hot. I know, because they’re trained on me at the moment, and I can feel the air in the cabin around us heating up from the intensity. “I simply want to be clear: the ball is entirely in your court, Melanie. Whatever makes you the most comfortable.” His smile turns wicked. “Although, you seemed plenty comfortable with letting yourself go in public before, so perhaps that’s a silly question.”

  “An empty grass hillside is hardly public,” I protest.

  “Want to try a real challenge then?” he responds in an instant, and his gaze drifts away from me, around the rest of the first class cabin we’re seated in. His eyes fix eventually on the bathroom at the far end of the cabin, and all at once, I realize what he means. He glances back at me, still grinning. “If you’ve never flown before, then I assume you’ve never had an opportunity to join a certain mile-high club before, either.”

  My belly tightens. My thighs clench tight at the thought. “I can’t. I mean, we can’t,” I amend.

  He sits back in his seat. “We could,” he responds. “But not if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s not a matter of want,” I whisper now, afraid someone might overhear us. What do they do if you get caught debating public sex on a plane? Strap you down into your seat forcibly? It’s not like they can eject you. I wonder if you’d get in trouble on the far end. Can they ban people from flying certain airlines? “We can’t just hook up here in the middle of the sky,” I hiss. “People will hear us.”

  “So?” His eyebrows arch.

  I stifle a laugh. “So, we’d get in trouble.”

  “Do you live your entire life by the rules, Melanie?”

  “Obviously not.” I gesture around us wildly. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? A guy I only met for one night, a week ago, halfway to the city I’ve always wanted to visit, because of a wild business idea.”

  “Well then. What’s one more wild idea to add to the list?” He leans in closer again, and I catch the scent of his cologne, mingled with something hotter, smokier. His scent. The same one that I remember so sharply from the hillside where we had sex the first time. His eyes are filled with lust, fixed on me, white-hot.

  I tilt toward him almost without even realizing it, my body moving of its own volition. “How would we even do it?” I whisper, all too aware that within the span of minutes I’ve gone from being completely opposed to this idea to sounding like I’m genuinely considering it.

  Not that I am.

  I mean, mostly. I’d just like to know how he’d hypothetically get away with this, if we were to try it.

  He grins, all wicked seduction, like he knows all too well that he’ll win this battle by the end. “Well,” he says, drawing out the word. Making me feel every second of the weighty pauses. “First, you would go and slip into that bathroom up
there,” he whispers. “Lock the door and wait a few minutes. Then I would walk up and knock softly, and you’d unlock it and let me in to… join you.” As he says that last word, his fingertip trails down the length of my arm, all the way from my shoulder to my wrist.

  Where he touches, goosebumps rise along my skin to follow. I swallow hard, my throat suddenly tight for some reason. “I see,” I respond, parroting his favorite phrase. “And once you did that, what would happen.”

  “Well.” His gaze shifts over my body. “First, we’d have to deal with that skirt of yours. But that’s easily done. Hike it up and reveal…” He tilts his head to one side. “What are you wearing underneath it today, my little good girl turned dirty?”

  My cheeks flush, and I pray nobody in the seats around us can hear. But his voice is soft, steady. And besides, most people have headphones in, lost in the movies playing on their screens. Still, I lower my voice to match his. “Panties,” I whisper back. “A thong, actually.”

  His grin widens. “Good. But you know what would be better? If you slipped those off while you were waiting for me in the bathroom.” He bends closer to me, his lips barely inches from my own, as his eyes pin me in place. He reaches up, achingly slow, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You might even get yourself ready for me first, too. Touch yourself, slowly… think about where you want me to touch you. About where you want my hands.”

  I shiver. Already I can feel my lust pulsing through my body, pooling between my thighs. “And when you do join me inside?”

  “Simple, my dirty girl.” He bends to kiss the edge of my jawline softly, right where my neck meets the edge of my cheek. His teeth nip at my skin, just hard enough to make me gasp softly and arch my back a little. “I’m going to fuck you.”

  I shiver at the simple, dirty words. Hearing them in his deep baritone voice just makes me want him all the more.