Faking It with the Billionaire Next Door: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy

by Jolie Day

  It was all significant in some odd way.

  I was entranced.

  She’d awakened the man I’d buried inside.

  10

  ROSE

  Oh, goodness. Later that evening, I lay in bed, considering the events of the day.

  I’d seen a different side of Miles tonight.

  A 180-degree different side. What?

  He’d been caring, and funny, and actually able to hold an adult conversation with me. I didn’t even realize he had a softer side to him. Who knew? It felt as if a whole new man had knocked on my door. Granted, he was still asking me to act as his fiancée—an idea I still had not warmed up to. To give in to such a persistent and conceited man would kill me. Not to mention my own emotions. What if I caught feelings? Or, worse, fell for him? No way. I wouldn’t. The thought alone was utterly ridiculous.

  But I certainly did like the man I saw today. Even if I considered his idea—which I did not—I could never allow myself to like him romantically.

  There was no world in which I could see Miles actually being in a serious relationship. He was only focused on getting his inheritance.

  I should steer clear of this entire situation.

  But holy cannoli—one million dollars!

  The offer was too good. And the thing was, I could really use that money. The deal included free accommodations, right here where I’d been living. And Daisy liked him, too! I could hardly believe it. That cute little traitor.

  Mentally scrolling through pros and cons, I suddenly considered the fact I’d be living with Miles—mentally and physically seeing him every day. How awkward was that going to get? How would I handle the need that sometimes (almost every time) arose within me when I saw him?

  Something was wrong with my body.

  It acted all weird around him. Especially today.

  I tried to remind myself that he was trying to help me. Rosey, he’s only offering you a place to live. Nothing more, nothing less. Only a friendly gesture. There was no sexual tension.

  This evening, he’d proven that he could act civilized. The issue was, could I?

  He’d come over here and tried to comfort me—successfully.

  Little did he know, he’d actually gotten me quite riled up—sexually.

  I hadn’t been able to stop staring at the man all evening, even before “the hug.” (Please don’t even ask about “the hug”). Apparently, sex was a great way to get your mind off things, and I believed that now more than ever. As Miles sat on my couch, he’d distracted me to the point I hadn’t been sure how to speak. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed, but the way he’d spoken to me so sweetly had somehow changed everything. Suddenly, I was noticing the softness of his lips, the penetrating way his bright eyes pierced into mine. Even the stubble on his jaw looked delectable. Okay, that always looked delectable.

  His shirt had been slightly opened at the top, revealing his breathtakingly strong chest, as well as a part of his barbed wire and rose tattoo, along with a little patch of hair that I’d never noticed before. For some reason, I really liked that smattering of hair. I’d imagined sitting on his lap and stroking my fingers through it and down his chest. His arms had also been a major distraction. Thank God he didn’t realize that rolling up his sleeves like that was sexy as fuck. What was I, twelve? Admiring a guy’s arms? Yes. His forearms were veined and strong, and the way his large, manly fingers moved had me in a trance.

  The fact I was still naked beneath my robe was even more of a turn on. I felt as if my body was free and ready for the taking, had that robe just been ripped off. Luckily, he had no idea or suspicion that I’d been naked underneath the whole time.

  Shit.

  This sexual tension thing might be more of an issue than I’d expected.

  Then there was “the hug” at the door.

  Oh, my God.

  I’d been unsure about it at first, because I did want to keep him at a distance. We still had our unfavorable history as well as the reminder that Miles was, after all, a man with a cock who would undoubtedly say or do stuff I disliked. But, when he pulled me close, I felt comforted, not used. His body was warm against mine, and the way he’d wrapped his strong arms around me, how he pressed me closer to his muscular body, and the strong jawbones against my cheek—well, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been hugged by a man like that. I felt safe. Protected. Secure from danger. It was the most beautiful feeling in the world. His cologne had me drooling and wondering what he’d taste like.

  Then, something else happened.

  As we stood hugging, I’d allowed myself a moment of weakness.

  Imagining a different world, I saw myself pull my head from his chest and stare up at his full lips. I wanted to run my fingers along the stubble of his jawline, while pressing my mouth to his—softly at first, but then teasing his lips open with the softness of my tongue. I saw us, entangled and hungry for each other. He would have taken my mouth by storm. I’d imagined how easily he could have slipped my thin robe from my shoulders and sucked my earlobe and kissed my neck, all the way down my body.

  Sigh. Before “imaginary us” could go any farther, Miles had pulled away and said goodnight.

  Just like that.

  I’d stood with my back against the door, reeling from the thoughts running through my head. To be honest, I’d relived the moment twenty-one times.

  Including now.

  For the first time, I began to run a dangerous thought through my mind. I wondered if it really would become an issue if I went through with the deal. I actually considered it.

  You know what, I have nothing to worry about, I decided in a spur-of-the-moment spontaneity. It was fine to say yes. Sure, the goal was to be happy—I shouldn’t be willing to risk my goal and miss the mark. But, I convinced myself that tonight was an exception, a point of weakness. I was a hundred percent sure of it. Even if I moved into his apartment, my finding him so sexy wouldn’t be an issue, because I was certain that tomorrow morning, he’d say some stupid shit. He’d be his old self again: the arrogant jerk, not the attractive sincere man I’d seen today.

  He was no risk at all.

  Rolling over in bed, I buried my face into my pillow.

  “Urgh!” I moaned loudly into the fabric, frustrated with the predicament I found myself in.

  In the end, I decided to sleep on it. Everything would be clearer in the morning. Something Juliette had said popped into my mind—that if I got him out of my system by sleeping with him, I wouldn’t be so affected… Hmm. Perhaps I could give it a try.

  I reached for my dildo and set the vibration on low with slow intervals.

  Rustling under the covers, I spread my legs, and just laid the vibrating toy over my panties to start off slowly.

  Then my mind took over.

  Miles walks into my room wearing nothing but his blue jeans and his tattoos. Sexy. I sit up in bed, and he comes to stand by my side. I turn to him and rise to my knees. He looks down at my body, biting his lower lip as he slowly opens my robe and lets it slide down over my shoulders. His eyes stop on my naked breasts and linger, appreciating the view. He forces his gaze lower, to my panties.

  Tonight, I’m wearing yellow bikini-type underwear.

  He doesn’t say a word and runs his finger along the waistband, across my lower abdomen, and around my hip, causing gooseflesh to travel across my exposed skin.

  His large hand slides over my ass cheek before grabbing a handful and squeezing. The action brings me forward, and I slam, breast-first, into his rigid body, gasping.

  “Come here, Rose,” he whisper-growls.

  His face is blurry, and all I can sense is his hands on me, grabbing my boobs (reminding me of the moment in the elevator, and I want to giggle), then his mouth as he drops his head and begins kissing my neck, my chest, and then flicks his tongue hard against my nipple (that’s when all thoughts of wanting to giggle cease).

  “Hmmm, your skin tastes so sweet,” he rumbles.

  I moan, pla
cing my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

  He stands up straight again, and I run my fingers down his chest and abdomen, feeling the soft, sexy smattering of hair I admired earlier (so much sexier than I imagined) and the ripples of his six-pack. I sit back on my haunches as he stands before me, his bulging package now right in front of my face. Even though he’s still in his jeans, I admire the naughty view for a second too long, anticipating the surprise, and wanting to reach out before he tips me backward.

  He removes the socks from my usually cold feet, and crawls over me.

  OMG.

  It’s so hot how he moves and how his muscles flex above me.

  His manly chest and biceps tattoo—in my imagination, I’m able to understand its meaning: The rose represents love won or lost, and the barbed wire represents the strength of overcoming a bad experience in life. Barbed wire is dangerous: it can break you, even cause death, and it’s a constant reminder that you’re strong enough to overcome any obstacles in your life.

  His eyes scan my body once more and he trails beautiful, hungry kisses up my stomach and along my breasts. His mouth ravenously takes mine, and he kisses me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine as our lips slide over each other’s. I’m mesmerized by his full and soft lips that taste better than honey.

  He slowly lowers himself, and I enjoy the weight of him on my body. Suddenly, I can feel that hard bulge, which is now more of a cucumber, pressing against me. So hot. He nudges my legs open with his knees, pushing his hard length against my center.

  I placed the vibrating toy under my panties.

  “Fuck yeah, Baby,” he groans.

  My mind reels, driving me crazy. I’ve always imagined being called “Baby” would send me over the edge, because it’s such an intimate choice of a pet name—especially from somebody who isn’t my boyfriend. The teasing becomes too much, and I find I’m unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down over his ass, leaving him in only his boxers, and writhing against him.

  “You in a hurry, Baby?” he teases me, because he does tease me in my dreams, as well.

  He sits back and pulls his boxer briefs down over his giant cock—I mean, allegedly giant. I still have no real proof.

  But I will soon!

  Now, in fact.

  Finally.

  Something in my stomach twitches from the excitement of what I’m about to see. I try to get a look at it, but—much to my dismay—it’s out of my view, and Miles is ripping my panties down my legs.

  Just as I’m about to protest and shout, “Wait! Wait! I want to see your cock!!!” he pushes me back and pulls my panties all the way off with my legs in the air. My movements urge him, and his fingers slide between my folds. I don’t protest at all when he tests the waters, rubbing his fingers in slow circles over my clit.

  I gasped at the sensation (in real life, not just in my dream).

  “Damn, Baby, you’re so wet,” he growls in his deep, better-than-life husky voice. “Come for me.”

  I cry out, pulse after pulse shooting through me, and the blur of his face seems to smile.

  Actually, smile a lot.

  As I lay panting in my bed, I realized that was it.

  I’d come already. A little too early, not sure why, but okay.

  Perfect. Done.

  He’s out of my system now.

  See, I climaxed because of him.

  And that was all I needed to be able to move in with him.

  The indistinct images and muffled sounds of my imagination started to fade, and I groaned in frustration.

  I didn’t feel that satisfied.

  Damn.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  It seemed I might not get him out of my system so easily. I knew what he looked like, but in bed, I was unsure of his natural actions and reactions. Among other things.

  And I will never know, I told myself as I turned to my side and set the dildo on the nightstand, wondering what Miles’ dick really did look like.

  Never? a loud voice asked inside my head.

  Ever, another loud voice said inside my head. More high-pitched.

  I ignored the conversation going on in my mind as I rolled over and forced my eyes closed. I dozed off with the fuzzy mental image of the two of us entangled, my legs around his waist as our bodies moved in a blurry unison.

  Purr. Purr. Purr.

  The following morning, I woke up with an early but sweet surprise. Daisy was sitting on my chest, tapping my cheek so I’d wake up, and looking at me with her cute blue eyes.

  “God, Daisy, sweetie.” I looked over at my phone, “It’s 5 a.m.!”

  Groaning, I sat up, reached for my robe to pull it on, and took her into my arms.

  “Meow.”

  “Let’s get you fed, my cutie pie.”

  “Meow.”

  Slowly, I walked into the kitchen, realizing I possibly had a hangover. From just one glass? I loved red wine, but apparently, it was harsher on my body than white was. However, I was pretty sure an emotional hangover was a thing. Miles’ glass was still full, he’d hardly drank from it, if at all.

  I tripped over the corner of the kitchen rug. “Dammit!”

  My head pounded, and my eyes felt swollen. I groaned as I put Daisy onto the counter and filled her green food bowl. As I stood and waited for the coffee maker to kindly grace me with my cup of ambition, I considered what had happened last night.

  I knew all the facts, and after a night of deep sleep, I still felt that moving in with Miles and taking his deal was my best option. It wasn’t as if I had many other choices. Except for moving in with Juliette, that was. Or into a motel, at least temporarily. Or getting my own place and furniture. And forgetting that he offered me a measly million bucks.

  What’s the worst thing that can happen?

  There was no way I’d actually end up having feelings for him or even consider him as an option. Ever.

  A man like Miles is trouble. Always will be.

  I sighed, dismissing the last attempt of the loud voice in resignation as Daisy rushed across the counter to her bowl, digging in, then to me, thanking me for her breakfast with a soft purr and a body rub against my arm. My heart. She was my life.

  After watching her clean up the rest of her food, I grabbed her and cuddled her to my chest and headed out my front door.

  Time to tell him my decision.

  11

  MILES

  I awoke to the sound of a knock on my door. Shit. Who the fuck would be waking me up so early? Rolling out of bed, I searched for my sweatpants because I usually slept in the nude. I couldn’t find them. Fuck it. I headed to the front door, dick hanging, looking around for any piece of clothing while wiping my sleepy eyes and running my hands through my bedhead. Damn. I couldn’t find anything.

  I’m gonna fuck you up, whoever you are, I thought.

  You had to get up, anyway, dick-bag, the asshole on my shoulder yelled.

  I’d never been the aggressive type, unless pushed. Or unless I got to bed late. Which I didn’t. Typically, I got up at 5 a.m. Morning person. Loved it. Sleeping in late bored the shit out of me. I knew I didn’t look like it—pipe down. So yeah, by the time I reached the door, the colossal volcano had basically dried up to black dust and a few warm-ish stones.

  Opening the door, I hid my naked body behind the panel.

  Rose. With her cat in her arms.

  My first thought: Is something wrong with the cat?

  I gave Miss Muffin Patch an unsure look, but she slowly licked Rose’s hand, making the pair look all cozy and cute together. The cat was fine. Good.

  My second thought: Did she wake me so early to fuck with me?

  We had agreed on a truce, no?

  I gave Rose an unsure expression, but she just stood there, eyeing me.

  “Well, good morning, sunshine,” I said with the most charming “I was already awake” smile that I could rouse. Worked pretty well. Told you, morning person, even though I’d barely gotten to thirty-four percent a
wake status.

  Rose blushed and shook her head. Even through my morning haze, I was constantly tempted to tease her. But, I had to admit this felt less like teasing, and more like I felt genuinely happy to see her so early. Really? Is that even possible for me? Huh.

  “Hey, Miles,” she said, her voice hopeful, her hand stroking the muffin patch on the cat’s head. She glanced away from me, anywhere but directly at me. She was also still waking up it seemed, looking twitchy and disheveled. Her hair was wild and slightly knotted. Maybe she’d had a restless night as well.

  “What’s up?” Wondering what was going on, I noticed she was standing barefoot and in her white morning robe. I liked the robe. The material was thin, and it wasn’t hard to see that her nipples stood at attention. Status-jump to sixty-two percent awake.

  “Want to come in?” I offered, knowing I was butt-ass naked—but quickly turning to try to find something I could actually put on. Even a fucking apron would do. But she quickly shook her head in the negative.

  Did she suspect I was naked and refuse because of that? Note to self: Don’t make a habit of opening the door naked.

  Or you could just ask her, the dude on my shoulder offered.

  “Did you know I was naked and refuse because of that?” I regretted the question as soon as it was out of my mouth. Dude. Wake the fuck up. You’re creeping her out again.

  “You’re naked?” Her eyes fluttered. “Butt-naked?”

  I looked down at myself to make sure. “Yeah. I didn’t know you’d be knocking. But no problem, I’ll grab something real—”

  “No, not necessary.”

  Oh? I grinned, arching a brow.

  “I mean… no, I’m not coming in.” She waved her hand in dismissal.