Fake It: A Fake Fiancée Romance Page 8

We close the distance and I hold out my hand. “Good afternoon. I’m Cameron Styles.”

  He smiles and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles. I’m Jake. I’ll be delivering you to Mr. Smithfield’s estate this morning.”

  “Lead the way,” I tell him, motioning with my arm for him to walk ahead of us.

  I reach out and take Sam’s hand in mine as we follow him out the doors and into the parking lot. He opens the back door of a blacked-out SUV and takes our bags as we climb inside.

  After our bags are loaded into the back, he climbs behind the wheel and pulls out into traffic.

  “How was your flight?”

  “It wasn’t too bad—quick and no turbulence,” I reply.

  He offers up a smile I can see in the mirror. “Mr. Smithfield has the guest house all prepared for you. Is there anywhere you’d like to stop along the way? Something to eat or drink? Everything is on Mr. Smithfield, of course.”

  I raise my hand to wave off the idea, but Sam speaks up. “Could we stop by Starbucks?”

  I turn and look at her with a smile.

  She shrugs. “It’s getting close to lunch and I need a pick-me-up. That flight sucked the life out of me.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Jake drives a short distance, then pulls into a Starbucks drive-through. She orders a white chocolate mocha, then we’re back on our way. We make our way around the city and into the suburbs where there is a big gated community. He drives further until he slows down and pulls up to a cast-iron fence securing a big brick wall. He taps his key card and the gates open. When the massive five-story house comes into view, Sam takes a loud breath of amazement. It is an impressive home, but I’m not fazed. Sure, my house isn’t this big, but I’ve seen bigger and better. The house I grew up in was this size, so this is nothing for me.

  Instead of stopping at the main house, he drives deeper into the property. The grass looks lush and green, and the landscaping is perfectly planned. Through the trees, bushes, and flowers, I can see a swimming pool and a tennis court. Finally, he comes to a stop directly in front of the guest house. It’s a small two-story brick house with apple-red farmhouse shutters and flowers planted along the front.

  “This is so cute,” Sam says, stepping out of the car.

  “It’s very nice,” I reply, again not fazed. I would’ve much rather stayed at a five-star hotel where there’s room service and private massages. I’m not exactly keen on hospitality or staying in someone else’s home. I prefer my space and privacy.

  The driver grabs our bags and shows us into the house. He places our bags on the floor, then turns to address us.

  “Mr. Smithfield would like to give you the day to settle in. He has invited you to the main house tonight at seven for dinner. The kitchen and liquor cabinet are fully stocked, and he’d like for you two to make yourselves at home. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call the main house. The number is by the phone.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him as I follow him to the door. I close it behind him and turn to find Sam walking slowly around the house.

  “This is amazing.”

  I snort. “What’s so special about it? My place is better than this.” I walk into the living room and sit down, cringing as I realize how pompous and arrogant my words must sound. I don’t know why I care so much about impressing Sam and trying to prove myself to her.

  “Yeah, but your place is a mansion. This is just a regular house, but it’s so nice.” She spins around to face me. “I call master bedroom!” she shouts, running up the stairs. I can hear her feet pounding down the hallway above me.

  I laugh and stand, following after her. When I get upstairs, I find her standing in the doorway to a bedroom.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask, coming up behind her.

  “There’s only one bedroom,” she replies quietly.

  I frown. “That can’t be,” I mumble, walking down the hall and opening doors. I find a bathroom, an office with a fully-stocked library, and a room that’s been converted into a large walk-in closet with built-in dressers and a vanity.

  I walk back into the bedroom, shaking my head. “I can’t believe this. This could be a three-bedroom house, but they turned the other bedrooms into useless rooms.” A part of me feels like this is a trap—like Mr. Smithfield wanted to make damn sure we shared a bed. Anger burns in my chest at the deceit of it all, even though I know I’m being ridiculous.

  “What are we going to do?” Sam asks, flopping down on the bed. “I guess I could sleep on the couch.”

  I shake my head and sit down beside her. “You can’t sleep on that thing for a week. You won’t be able to walk. I’ll sleep on the couch,” I volunteer.

  She waves her hand through the air. “No, this is silly. I mean, we’re both adults here. We can sleep in the same bed. It’s not like either of us has cooties or something.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, a little fearful.

  She nods. “It’ll be fine. It’s only for a few days.”

  “I know you’re mean when you wake up, but how are you with sleeping? Are you going to beat the shit out of me?” I ask around a grin.

  She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Guess we’ll find out.” She flashes me a smile.

  I laugh and shake my head. “I guess we will.” I stand to gain some distance. I have a feeling that’s something I won’t get much of while we’re here. “I’ll go down and get our bags. We don’t want our things to wrinkle.”

  I run downstairs and grab our bags, bringing them back up so we can begin putting our things away. I hang up my suits in the small bedroom closet, but Sam takes hers to the big walk-in closet. Once everything is put away, we meet in the living room.

  “Now what? We still have several hours until dinner,” she says, flopping down on the couch.

  “Well, he did mention a fully-stocked liquor cabinet.”

  Her head slowly turns in my direction as a smile forms.

  We both stand and start searching downstairs for said cabinet.

  “Found it!” Sam yells from the kitchen.

  I push my way through the door and find her bringing out bottles.

  “What’ll it be?” She looks at me. “Scotch man, right?”

  I offer a half smile and nod my head as I grab two glasses and sit at the table.

  She takes down the bottle of Scotch and sits across from me. “Oh, I have an idea. Let’s play a drinking game.”

  I begin pouring a little in both glasses. “What kind of drinking game?”

  “We’ll take turns asking personal questions. If you don’t want to answer a question, you drink.”

  I shrug. “All right. I’ll answer all of them so I don’t get drunk. We have to make a good impression tonight, Sam,” I laugh.

  “No way! You have to play right. We won’t get drunk, don’t worry. Here, I’ll go first.” She presses her lips together and looks at the ceiling. “Who was the first girl you had sex with? And how was it?”

  I snicker just thinking about it. “Her name was Missy Goldstein, and she was my high school girlfriend. We lost our virginities together on prom night. And then the next day, she broke up with me and told everyone I had a small penis and that I sucked in bed.”

  Her mouth drops open before she bursts into laughter. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry for laughing, but why? Why would she do that?”

  I shrug. “She was a popular girl, but she didn’t have any money. And back then, everyone was doing it. She hadn’t ever done it, but everyone thought she had. I think she wanted to make herself feel more important.”

  “That’s a horrible story. How could you even smile at that?”

  “After she told everyone I had a small dick, I told everyone she was overused—that sex with her was like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. Not my finest hour by any stretch, but I blame it on idiotic adolescence.”

  She gasps, but it turns into a laugh. “And what did everyone think of that?”

  I shrug and pick up
my drink.

  “Oh, come on,” she begs.

  I swallow down the Scotch in my mouth and place it back on the table. “Tell me about your first time.”

  She runs her delicate fingers along the rim of her glass. “It was with a boy named Jonathan. We had been dating for the summer, but we both knew that he had to leave. He wouldn’t be going back to our school because his mother had gotten a better job in Florida. She was a single parent, so income was tight for them. She couldn’t turn it down. So on his last night in Chicago, he walked over to my place and picked me up. We walked around the city, talking and laughing, just enjoying our last night alone together. We got dinner from a food truck. We had hot dogs and ice cream. At the end of the night, he gave me a goodbye kiss. But I’d had such a good time with him that I didn’t want to let him go without…you know. I just felt so close to him. My mom was working the late shift that night, so I brought him upstairs to my room.”

  I grin thinking about a teenage Sam—so full of passion, fire, and determination. “And?”

  She shrugs. “I mean, at the time I thought it was magical. I thought he’d love me and maybe even want to carry on a long-distance relationship until we were both eighteen and could be together. But in all honesty, it was horrible. He didn’t know how to put on the condom. And because it was also his first time, had no idea what foreplay was. It hurt and it was uncomfortable. And I had daydreamed this whole big speech at the end of it where he professed his love and asked for something long-distance. What really happened was the minute he finished, he left me hanging. He got up, put on his clothes, and gave me a quick kiss goodbye. Haven’t talked to him since.”

  I laugh. “Ouch.”

  She nods and takes a drink anyway. “Yep. Tell me about the last girl you were with.”

  I roll my eyes. “Nothing special there. I met her at a club, took her to the restroom, and bent her over. After it all, I paid her bar tab and left.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Seriously? You were a pig.”

  “Were?” I ask, wondering when she suddenly decided I was no longer a pig. I haven’t exactly changed my morals since then and turned into Prince Charming.

  She picks up her glass and finishes it off, refusing to elaborate.

  “How long has it been since you were in a serious, committed relationship?” she asks, and I can see the corners of her mouth lift slightly, but she holds off the smile.

  I take a deep breath and think back. “Never, I guess.”

  “Never?” she nearly yells.

  I laugh and nod my head. “There have been lots of women.” My eyes grow in size just thinking about them all. “A lot of women, but I wouldn’t say I was in a relationship with any of them. I think the closest I ever came was back in college. There was this one girl. Her name was Stacy, and we kept things casual in our shared department. She slept with whomever she wanted, and vice versa. But I did take her out to dinner on occasion, and we went to a few parties together.”

  “What happened?”

  I let my head fall as I shake it back and forth, now focusing on my drink. “She got mad when she walked into my room to find me with another girl.”

  “I thought it was casual?”

  “Me too, but I guess she’d been playing along hoping I’d fall in love and change my mind.”

  “That poor girl.” She picks up her glass and takes a swig. “Have you ever run into her since?”

  “Nope, but I have checked up on her, as stalkerish as that sounds. She graduated, and got hired on at a law firm. Now, she’s married and has three kids. Dodged that bullet,” I joke.

  She rolls her eyes. “One day, Mr. Styles,” she says, moving to sit on the edge of the table directly in front of me, “someone will worm their way into that stone-cold heart of yours.” She offers up a flirty smile and stands, walking out of the kitchen and leaving me alone.

  I can’t help but watch her go, completely fascinated and amazed—wondering if she’s the woman she’s warning me about.

  Chapter Eleven

  Smantha

  I feel like I’ve left him hanging, and a part of me likes it. I like knowing that I’m getting to him, teasing him, and maybe even opening his eyes a bit about what an actual grown-up relationship is like. It’s not just about sex. It’s about friendship, trust, and communication. All of which we’re building.

  I feel like I need to give him a moment alone, so I slip into the bathroom and start to fill the tub before I begin getting ready for our big dinner date with his client. I guess my efforts on my appearance this morning were wasted since we didn’t even meet the client yet.

  Tonight, I want to look the part, but now I think that faking this relationship won’t be as hard as I’d been envisioning. I do feel closer to him than I did yesterday, and I can’t ignore this feeling in my stomach that begs to me lean in and kiss him—to caress his cheek, or jump on his lap and ride him until my entire body is spent.

  As much as I’d like that, it also scares me. I know that it wouldn’t mean anything to him yet. I’d just be another one of those girls who didn’t make the cut. And I’d hate to be another Stacy—to feel like I’m winning him over only to have my heart broken.

  A deep sigh leaves my lips as I let the warm water envelop me. I lean my head back and close my eyes as I sink a little lower into the bubbles. All I see is him. My stomach tightens as I imagine him stalking up to me, face full of determination. In my daydream, I’m frozen, unable to move as he reaches out for me and pulls me to his chest. He whispers something, but I can’t make out what it is over my pounding heart. And then, his lips land strongly on mine. With a hand cradling each side of my face, he leans me back, deepening the kiss. My shaking hands wrap around his neck, pulling myself closer. I can practically taste the flavors of Scotch and mint on his tongue. The smell of his rich cologne washes over me so strongly, it’s like he’s actually standing right next to me.

  “Samantha!” he yells, pulling me from my daydream.

  I sit up quickly, causing water and bubbles to splash out of the tub as I look up at him with panic written across my face. “What is it?”

  He grins. “Man, you were really out there. What were you thinking about?” He slides his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.

  “Nothing,” I say, afraid to admit it. “Why are you in the bathroom?” I gasp as I quickly move to cover my very naked body.

  “Dinner is in one hour and I need a shower too. If you wouldn’t mind speeding it up?”

  I nod, breathless. “Okay, I’ll be out in a sec.”

  He stands back and lifts his chin, silently challenging me to do so while he watches.

  I roll my eyes, knowing he’s only joking, but also wanting to tease him even more. I lean forward and pull the drain stopper, then stand—naked and soaking wet as bubbles run down my body. His eyes double in size as I step out of the tub and wrap the towel around myself. I don’t say anything as I step past him, but I make damn sure to keep eye contact. His jaw is flexed and every muscle is hard like he’s forcibly holding himself back. At the last second, I see him shake his head as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

  I snicker as I walk down the hallway to the big walk-in closet to dress for the evening.

  After blow-drying my hair, I style it in loose curls that hang down my back. I apply some makeup, giving my eyes a light smoky look, and top it off with a deep red lipstick. I walk up to the hanging bag and unzip it to reveal a sexy-yet-tasteful black dress. I pull it up my legs and look myself over in the mirror. I can’t reach the zipper in the back, but I slide my feet into a pair of black heels as I look myself over. The dress is flat black and ends just above my knee. It’s form-fitting, but still holds a lot of class. It’s not a dress I’d wear to a club, but perhaps a fancy dinner, if I had ever attended one before.

  Cameron knocks on the door and I turn my head to greet him with a smile. “Care to zip me up?”

  He removes his hands from his pockets and closes the distance betwe
en us like a big cat stalking its prey. Slowly, and with his eyes meeting mine in the mirror, he pulls up the zipper, letting the tip of his finger drag softly up my back. The soft touch sends shivers up my spine.

  “Thank you,” I whisper out of breathlessness as I turn to face him.

  Our faces are so close, his hot breath blows across my lips. “You’re welcome,” he whispers back as he slowly moves in for a kiss.

  I lean in just as slowly, lost in this trance. His dark eyes are on mine as we’re pulled together by some unseen force. His hand rises slowly, landing on my cheek just as the space between our lips disappears. His mouth presses to mine, and we both let out a relieved breath. His tongue demands entrance, and I can’t deny him. As my lips part for him, his tongue snakes its way inside. My hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as I deepen the kiss, completely unaware that I even needed this so much. My knee bends as I pull it up to rest on his hip, and his left hand drops down to my ass, pulling me closer. A deep growl escapes his chest as he picks me up against him and moves us across the room. He sets me down gently on a small dresser in the room, and his hands are free to travel around my body, only making me need him more.

  This kiss is different. It’s not like the first one we experienced—there’s no “testing the waters” or putting on a show for someone. This is borne out of pure lust and desire.

  His touch is firm but soft at the same time, and his kiss is hard and passionate. This feels better than I’d imagined. He’s a man of many talents, this being the top: seduction. I’ve forgotten all about dinner. I’m not thinking about my hair and lipstick that are probably all kinds of fucked up now. All I can think about are his hands on my body and his lips on mine. His tongue dances against mine, caressing and darting in and out of my mouth as his lips cover my own. The kiss grows deeper with each thrust of his tongue.

  I break the kiss to gasp for air and a soft moan escapes my swollen lips. That sound only seems to fuel him. His mouth moves back to mine, but this time, the kiss is much more forceful. His hands move up my thighs, and under my dress, to brush against my aching clit. When his thumb applies pressure to my sensitive nub, a spark shoots through me and I jerk.