Page 39 of That Fake Feeling

Shemust be able to feel me rising higher against her.Noamount of willpower or thinking of my grandma in her curlers can make it stop.Thearmpits of the dress shirtIdon’t own are instantly clammy.

There’sno escaping the facts, no way to ignore what these sensations mean.

IwantRose.

Fuck.

Thisis awful.Ican’t want her.

Idon’t want to want her.

It’snot convenient, or in any way a good idea.

There’sno place in this plan for me wanting her or,Godforbid, liking her.

Notto mentionI’mher employer and what’s going on in my pants is definitely grounds for a workplace complaint.

Butright now,Iwant her more thanI’dwant lime and salt with a tequila shot.

Itake a breath, and wait for her to toss me a look of contempt over her shoulder or at the very least pull away.

But, fuck me, she reaches around and taps me on the ass. “We’lltalk about it, sugar plums.”

Anddamn her if she doesn’t press herself back against me.

Mydick strains at the zipper like its survival depends on escaping the fire in there.

“Soundslike there might be some tension over that,”Sherrisays, making more notes.

Oh, there’s definitely tension somewhere,Sherri.

Rosealmost imperceptibly wiggles her butt.Holyfucking hell,LittleMissPrissyPantsis secretly grinding on me in front of a room full of strangers.

Andit’s possibly the biggest turn-onI’veever known.

Itake a giant breath, and try to quiet the roar inside my head from my dick growling to be unleashed.

Themakeup person will have to re-powder my brow any second.

Thephotographer gets what he wants—a smile that saysIcan’t get enough of her.Andit could not be more real.

Myheart thumps againstRose’sback while my dick stands firm and proud and cries out for me to push myself harder against her.

“That’sit,” the photographer declares. “That’sthe money shot.Holdthat.Yourexpressions are both perfect.Nowwe can really see how much you enjoy each other.”

Thisis fucking torture.

Everycell in my body wants to clear the room, hitch up this dress, and bendRoseover the sofa.Andfrom the way she’s behaving, it’s exactly what she wants too.

Oh.Actually.Unlessshe doesn’t.

Mypounding heart plummets to my throbbing groin with the realization that she’s not doing this because she’s as desperate for me asIam for her.She’sdoing it to punish me.Thisis her revenge, isn’t it?Toget back at me for trying to screw this up.

“Wewere going to do a casual shoot in the backyard next,” says the photographer. “Butwe have to be at the governor’s daughter’s twenty-first birthday party on time or we’ll miss the arrivals.”

NeitherRosenorImove a muscle as he clicks the lens cover back onto his camera and circles his finger to indicate to the crew they need to get a move on.

“Okay, everyone.”Heraises his voice. “We’llhave to cut straight toConnorandRose’sbedroom shoot.”