There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t ask Audrey to pretend to be
my fiancée. For a start:
1. She’s my best friend’s sexy little sister.
2. She’ll have to travel around the world with me.
3. The paparazzi will eat her alive.
4. So will I.
But I also have a million followers on social media who think we’re
already engaged, and there are millions of dollars at stake.
So what have I got to lose?
heavily as I freed my toes from the death trap heels. “Men have it so easy. You
don’t have to put up with this kind of torture. No hair, no make-up to do.”
shrugged. “What can I say? I roll out of bed looking like this.”
went dry as I pictured him rolling out of bed. In my imagination, he was
wearing a lot less than he was now.
By the time
we reached the door to my room, I realized I was running out of time to
proposition him. I dropped my shoes to rummage through my purse for the key
card. Didn’t I just have it, to show the
guard at the elevator bank? Yeesh.
patiently beside me. He even bent down to pick up my shoes for me. The movement
of his head near my waist made me pause. Gah.
Trying to ignore the tingling feeling in my stomach, I kept searching. Blindly
I felt a few things, but funnily enough I couldn’t find my card—or my courage.
Oh wait, there it was. It was in the side
pocket, along with a ton of sexual tension.
my throat and tried to sound casual. “Uh, do you want to come in? We could
catch up… or something?”
in his voice made me look up from the depths of my bag. His eyes were like
obsidian in the light lining the never-ending corridor. When he stepped closer,
my back went up against my door.
asked,” I murmured.
He ran his
thumb over my jaw, and I reflexively tilted my head up to him. He said my name
again, his voice even rougher and deeper than before. My bare toes curled
against the carpet.
buried in my bag, my hand closed around my key. I was running out of time.
Without really thinking about it, I popped up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss
to the beard-roughened space between the corner of his mouth and his jaw.
moved even closer, because as I went back down on my heels, I found myself flat
against the door and his body pressed against mine. It was hot and hard and… oh!
this like Beetlejuice? If he said my
name three times in a row, would I come?
I looked up
to see him lick his lips. He didn’t need his body to pin me to the door—his
gaze did the job well enough.
your damn key,” he growled.