sounds of catcalls and cameras clicking penetrates the fog of lust that’s overtaken my brain, and I force myself to back off. To take our kiss from boiling hot and turn down the flames to something closer to a simmer. Then I end the kiss altogether, staring down at her dazed expression that I’m sure matches my own.
I search for words, any words, but my brain is blank. Everything about her is unexpected, from the Shirley Temples that first night to her agreement to go along with this scheme to the way she kisses me when we’re not supposed to be anything to each other but a stepping stone.
The car pulling up saves me from having to say anything, and I release her as the driver comes around and opens our door.
I think …
I think this is either the best idea I’ve ever had. Or the worst.
Chapter Eight
Alexis
In a daze, I climb into the car, maddeningly aware of the dampness between my thighs. Especially since if Colt’s coming home with me, it’ll be a while before I can take care of the need he created with that kiss.
And what’s he doing kissing me like that anyway? Yeah, we’re supposed to be a couple and he said something about giving a show for the cameras, but I didn’t think he wanted to make soft porn in public.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I force my hands to stay in my lap, curling them into fists so I don’t raise them to cover my face. Because as much as I might want to blame him, I’m equally responsible, yanking him closer and grinding on the steel beam he’s smuggling in his pants.
My forced vow of celibacy is getting to me for sure. At first the break from parties and men and everything that goes with them was welcome. Some peace after the long nights and endless drama, just sitting in my apartment all by myself for days, only updates from my agent and occasional calls from my parents to break up the endless Netflix binge.
But now? With Colt kissing me like that and not meaning anything by it? Only doing it for the cameras?
Damn.
When he climbs into the car with me, he takes advantage of the driver’s brief absence to adjust himself. He tries to be discreet, but it’s hard when you’re hiding that in your skinny jeans.
Hard. Ha.
Biting my lip to keep my hysterical laughter on the inside, I turn and face the window. Is it hot in here? Because I’m burning the fuck up.
My mind strays down a dangerous path. One where we finish what we started on that sidewalk when we get to my place.
But that way surely lies madness.
Though how that differs from where I’m currently sitting, I can’t quite figure out right now.
But Colt was clear when he suggested this idea that it was all on paper, even if he agreed to an engagement and an eventual wedding after my agent deciphered our scheme. And I’m not going to let being horny ruin everything.
Not when giving in to the desire to throw caution to the wind and live the high life with my best friends has already destroyed everything we built. All that’s left is to pick up the biggest pieces and try to fit them back together into some semblance of the dream I’ve been pursuing since my dad first put a guitar in my hands.
This is why I have an assortment of battery operated boyfriends to see me through.
The ride to my place passes in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I halfway expect Colt to get out, walk me to my door, and kiss me goodnight—because you never know when the paps are hiding in the bushes—before getting back into the car and going home. Wherever that is. I should probably figure that out, since he’s my almost-fiance after all.
But when we park and the driver comes around to open Colt’s door, he gracefully slides out of the car, palming a folded bill into the driver’s hand as he thanks him. If he’s tipping the driver, then that means he’s not planning on using him to get home …
I can’t voice my confusion out here on the sidewalk, so I bite my tongue, trying to find the right balance of relaxing into his hand on my back and not seeming too eager. But also not seeming too stiff, because if we’re together, that might set off red flags, and neither of us can afford that.