Fake (West Hollywood #1) -Kylie Scott Page 0,28

uterus is not up for public debate.”

“Agreed.”

“She’s a force of nature,” I said. “I notice your dad just kind of shuts up and lets her lead.”

“She’s definitely the one in charge there,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “When we were growing up, she was always involved in everything. Which was both good and bad. My friends all loved her, the way she took an interest in everything, but having to live with her getting all up in your business all the time was a lot.”

“Do you think maybe that’s part of why you’re so quiet? So reluctant to share your thoughts? Because she wasn’t great at giving you space?”

“Are you suggesting I have mommy issues?”

“One way or the other, everyone probably has mommy issues.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He sighed. “I have no idea.”

“Though having the general public sticking their nose into your life all the time would also do it.”

Only silence came from the other side of the bed.

The house was so still late at night. No city noises, muffled conversation, or the occasional slamming of doors, like at my old apartment. God only knew the thread count of the sheets I was lying on. I barely recognized my life these days.

“The real question here is, how good is the soundproofing in this room?” I asked.

He turned his head on the pillow in my direction.

I pulled the blankets up to under my chin. Despite wearing one of his big tees and my underpants, this whole situation felt revealing in a weird way. Me being in his bed. Him lying next to me. Us being together in an intimate setting. So of course I got nervous and couldn’t shut up. “I mean, do your parents expect us to be having sexual relations? Is that the next obvious step in our intricate portrayal of a crazy-in-love couple? Should I shout out ‘yes daddy yes’ or attempt some loud, vaguely orgasmic-sounding screeches or something?”

“No,” was all he said.

“Okay. Just checking.”

He reached out and clicked off the bedside lamp. The room went dark. And he was quiet for approximately half a minute. “These screeches . . . were you thinking pterodactyl?”

“Are you asking if I make dinosaur sounds when I have sex? Because that’s just plain rude. Seriously.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

I giggled in a somewhat maniacal fashion. “It would certainly make for strained conversation over the breakfast table tomorrow. God knows what your parents would think.”

He laughed quietly. It was a beautiful sound, all low and rough and thrilling.

“You can laugh,” I said. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

“It’s April.”

“Eh. Whatever.”

“You did great tonight, Norah,” he said.

“Why, thank you.”

It was alarming the way my insides went all warm and fuzzy at his words. Maybe I should see a doctor. Or a therapist. The thing is, I’d finally met a man who not only liked me, but he supported me and said he was proud of me. He actually listened when I got verbal diarrhea. Too bad we were fake.

“Night, Patrick. Sweet dreams.”

Nobody would define me as being big on cuddling. As much I enjoyed kissing, hugging, and sexing, when it came time to sleep, I liked my space. Which was why it was a surprise to wake up with Patrick all over me. The man had not stuck to his side of the bed. Not even a little. One of his legs was thrown over mine, his arm lay curled around my middle, and his face was shoved into the back of my head. I knew this due to the soft in-and-out of his breath against my hair. And he was heavy. I wouldn’t be going anywhere without waking him up.

I had no idea the man even liked me this much. And he really did if the erect penis prodding my butt cheek was any indication. Just joking. Morning wood isn’t always caused by things sexual in nature. I looked it up once. But still, knowing it was there had me overheating in an instant. My nipples hardened and my sex ached. Every inch of me was suddenly wide the fuck awake.

Of course, he could have just stumbled across me in his sleep. This was the most likely explanation. There he’d been, dreaming of winning an Oscar or whatever, when he’d encountered another body in his bed. All perfectly innocent. Didn’t make it any less awkward, though.

It would therefore be best if I made my escape before he woke. Yes. Good plan.

I wriggled forward. Nice slow, gentle movements. Nothing that would wake