Page 25 of Take Me (Cherry Blossom Lake #5)

And then I forget what this looks like to anyone else.

We’re not two best friends faking their lust for each other, or even two cross-dressing clowns at the edge of a bar.

We’re just Mason and Erika, two people who know how to touch one another.

I know without thinking how to tip her head back to deepen the kiss.

How to glide my hand down to the small of her back just to feel her shiver.

Her arms wrap around me as my tongue grazes hers, and she makes a soft sound in the back of her throat.

She’s tender and sweet, fiery and filthy, everything I need in this moment.

She’s grinding against me like we’ve fucked forty-six thousand times, and the only thing keeping us from doing it now is a cheap satin skirt and my brother’s underpants.

A series of catcalls rings in the back of my brain. Somebody shouts, “Get a room!” and I break the kiss just to say that’s a really great plan.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Her gray eyes look dazed, and her lips are the shade of crushed cherries. “Okay.”

Catching her hand, I tug her through the crowd toward the door. There’s no way out without seeing my brothers, and both guys look up as we pass by their table.

“We’re going to go have sex now.” As soon as I say it, I urgently hope it’s the truth.

Jake scowls and sets down his beer. “You’re not supposed to announce it, dumbass.”

Kaleb just shrugs. “Worked for me.”

“See?” I was here the night he kissed Brooke by that booth over there. “Tell all your friends that Big One’s is the key to getting laid.”

“Wait.” Jake’s surly scowl deepens. “We’ve gotta tell you something.”

“We know.” It’s Erika’s turn to drag me toward the exit. “Our exes are swapping gravy, and it’s great.”

“Good for them,” I agree. “Erika and I are moving in together.”

Her hand jerks in mine, but it’s the only outward sign that I’ve just taken things a little too far. “Yep,” she shouts, waving to my brothers and the rest of the crowd. “Much easier that way to have all this sex.”

“Tons of it,” I agree. “Good night, everyone!”

We’re practically running by the time we reach the edge of the parking lot. Her truck is parked next to mine, and she lets go of my hand to fish out her keys.

“Wait.” I put a hand on her driver’s side door. “I’m afraid if we go in separate vehicles, we’ll chicken out and not really do this.”

“Oh, we’re doing this.” Her palm hits my chest so hard I stagger back. “Um, maybe lose the boobs first.”

“Right.”

“And the wig.”

“On it.” I rip off the hairpiece and stuff it in my truck toolbox.

“Is this nuts?” She holds up a hand before I can answer. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not nuts.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just… practical.” It’s the first thing that pops into my head “We need to do this to make things convincing. To make our fake-dating plan official.”

“That makes sense.”

It makes no sense at all, but far be it for me to admit that. Desperate to touch her again, I pull her into my arms for another quick kiss. It’s supposed to be quick.

Instead, I wind up pressing her back against the side of her truck, sweeping my tongue into her hot little mouth.

Her nails rake my back through the satin pink shirt, clawing me tighter against her.

Threading my hands through her hair, I make myself stop and take a step back. “Maybe ditch the hairpiece.”

She nods once and rips off the beard. “I’ll meet you at your place in five.”

“I’m so fucking glad I live close to work.”

I run to my driver’s side door, yanking it open and shoving my key in the ignition as Erika peels out of the parking lot.

I completely miss a stop sign while wriggling off the pink satin jacket, and I’m definitely doing forty in a twenty-five zone.

Guess this is one of those times to be grateful Erika’s got that souped-up engine.

Mine’s not too shabby, so we screech to a stop in front of my house in four minutes and thirty-two seconds.

Throwing open the door, I hit the ground running and head up my walkway with Erika right on my heels. “You stripped while driving?” she shouts from behind me.

“Yep.” I notice that she did the same. Lucky for her, she just wore her costume over her leggings and tank top. She’s ditched Kenny’s jacket and pants, but she’s still wearing the button-down shirt.

“Your neighbors are watching you sprint up your walkway wearing a bustier and your brother’s boxers.”

I wave to Mrs. Olafson as she drags a wheeled trash can to the end of her driveway. “Garbage night, huh?” I call to my neighbor. To Erika, I offer a shrug. “I couldn’t get the damn thing unhooked without taking both hands off the wheel.”

“Betrayed by women’s fashion,” she muses. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

“I’m just glad you got rid of the chest hair.” We’re at the front door now, and I’m so fucking glad I don’t lock it.

“Hurry up, Mason.” Because a two-second pause to twist the knob is too damn long to wait before touching each other again.

We tumble through the door in a tangle of hands and arms and legs. I’m backing her toward the bedroom when Scrumpy starts barking.

“Sorry, buddy.” I manage to tear my mouth off Erika’s long enough to stoop down and pet my dog. “I know we’re both dressed kinda weird.”

“Don’t worry,” Erika assures him. “We won’t be wearing these clothes much longer.”

For some reason that seems to appease him. He trots to his bed and curls up to gnaw on the tiny black tire Erika bought him as a chew toy.

“Does he need a walk?” She kicks off her shoes and starts to unbutton her shirt.

“He’s had three today.” I need to touch her again. Need to take off my clothes and her clothes and lay her back on my bed?—

“Wait.” I squint at the V of her cleavage where her skin looks chafed and red. “Are you still sore from those sticker things?”

“That’s from the chest hair, dummy.” She unbuttons her shirt. “Gotta stop putting things on my boobs.”

“Except my hands, right?” I help with the buttons, eager to have her topless again. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“The only pain I’m feeling is an intense, urgent, desperate, dire need to feel you fucking me as soon as humanly possible.”

“Right.” Holy shit. Her words leave me dazed, and so do her hands on the waist of my boxers. I’m almost too dizzy to stop her, but I need to get out of this bustier. “Could you please unhook this stupid top?”

Laughing, she glides her hands up my back. Her fingers make quick work of the hooks as her eyes lift to mine. “This is just revenge sex, right?”

“Revenge?”

“Not the right word.” She’s kissing my chest now, her voice coming out a blurred echo. “It’s about sticking it to our exes. Or showing the whole fucking town we’re not objects of pity.”

“Yeah.” I’m not sure that’s right, but I’m sure I can’t think with her tongue flicking over my nipple. “Sounds good to me.”

“What would you call that?”

“Beats me.” I want her too badly to hassle with labels. “Maybe it’s more about getting what we deserve.”

As the sequined bustier drops to my feet, I push Erika’s shirt off her shoulders. It falls to the ground as she strips off her tank top, leaving her wearing just a bra and her leggings. Dragging her hands down my chest, she gives a low growl of hunger. “I deserve this .”

Jesus, she’s hot. Her black satin bra isn’t lacy or padded, but it’s so much sexier than anything I’ve seen on the mannequins at Mischievous Mermaid. As I trace my hands down her sides, she shudders.

“I meant that we’re putting all this work into convincing people we’re dating.” I run my hands back up her body, reveling in all this soft heat. “We might as well reap the benefits, right?”

“Totally.”

At least we’re on the same page. Her eyes lift to mine, and she nibbles the edge of her lip. “Okay, you know how we went to the clinic together last week?”

It’s the sort of shorthand I’m unbearably grateful to read. “I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Me, neither.”

I want to be sure we’re on the same page. We got tested together as buddies who wanted to be sure we hadn’t picked up any STIs from our previous partners.

But never in a million years did I think things would turn out this way. Is Erika suggesting?—

“I have a birth control implant,” she tells me. “And I’m okay going bare if you are.”

Holy fucking shitballs. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m good with that.”

I need to stop while there’s still blood in my brain. Before we go any further, there’s just one more question we need to cover.

“We won’t let this fuck up our friendship, right?”

“Right.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” Her pebble-gray eyes lock with mine, and she smiles. “I promise we won’t let this fuck up our friendship.”

“Pinky swear?” I hold up my hand, and she laughs.

“Pinky swear.” She touches her finger to mine.

Relief courses through me, swirling in a sea of so much desire I can’t breathe. “You know where my bed is.”

Laughing, she pivots and runs for my room. “Last one there is a rotten egg.”

I watch her legs move, watch her silky blond hair swirling over her shoulders. My throat swells up tight, and I’m glued to the floor by the weight of this moment. This delicate point of no return.

Drawing a breath, I go after her, praying like hell we can both keep our word.