Faking It (14 page)

When she reached the last one, she brushed his open shirt off his shoulders, letting them fall to the floor. His chiseled chest and abdomen taunted her, and she ran her fingers over them. His muscles clenched at her touch, and he hissed through his teeth. Shooting him a coy look, she traced a path down the center of his stomach to the buttons of his trousers. She tugged on the waist and nibbled at his neck.

“
Stephanie
…” He moaned, gripping her hair. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m just starting.” She undid his pants. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Jesus. Yes.” His voice faded off and he leaned back against the wall, giving himself over to her. When he stood clothed only in a pair of boxer briefs, she licked at the skin on his neck, then sank to her knees.

His fingers threaded through her hair and he watched her, his blue eyes burning with an incandescent fire. She tugged his boxers down and closed her hands around his thick shaft. He groaned, and she leaned close to flick her tongue against the tip. His muscles clenched and his hips jerked forward, begging for more. She took him in her mouth, her lips parting around the fullness of him, sucking and teasing him with her tongue. The rough, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils. His whole body tensed and he clung to her hair. She deepened her strokes, taking as much of him in as she could, delighting in each sigh and moan. She could taste him getting closer and closer to the edge, but he pulled her off and picked her up in his arms. He kissed her hard, demandingly so, leaving no room for protest.

She wanted to keep pleasuring him—touching him. Loved the heady feeling of power bringing him such pleasure gave her, but he took control. He allowed her nothing save surrender into the wildness of his kiss. He stalked across the bedroom without breaking contact with her lips. Then he tossed her on the bed. Her legs lay open with her dress cascading between her thighs. He took a long look at her, his eyes simmering with lust.

“I want you,” he rumbled. “I want you so much it scares me.”

When he looked at her like that, she could almost imagine there was more to this than lust. More than a base need for mutual gratification. But no—that was her wishful thinking.

He wasn’t her type. He was rich. Bossy. A little bit arrogant. But even knowing all those things, she wanted him…for more than just this night.

When he slid over her, his chest pressing to hers, all conscious thought fled. His palm ran up her thigh, leaving behind electric trails. He moved the dress aside and pressed his fingers against her heat. She moaned and arched her hips.

“Now,” she gasped, gripping his hips and pulling him tight against her. “I need you now. No waiting.”

He shook his head, but rocked his body against hers, his shoulders tense. She claimed his lips, kissing him with raw abandon. She needed him inside of her. She needed him to fill her.

“Not yet,” he said, tearing his lips free. “First…”

He thrust a finger inside her, his thumb rubbing against the tight node of her pleasure. She cried out and rose off the mattress, and he kissed her hungrily. She clung to him, her body spiraling from his touch. She raked her nails down his back, needing him to move. To take her. “Now.”

He swore, withdrawing his finger and positioning himself at her entrance. He captured her shoulders and held her tight. After another breathtaking kiss, he plunged inside her.

She was still sore and sensitive from the first time, and now the heightened rush of sensation was almost unbearable. Stephanie writhed beneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust. When he bit down on her neck, she cried out and tensed, her whole body exploding with pleasure. Rolling over onto his back, he plunged up into her, and she braced her hands against his stomach. The taut muscles of his belly flexed under her fingers in delicious quivers as she rode him, taking him deeper and deeper. He held her hips, guiding her tempo until she felt her stomach clenching with need again.

He groaned and increased his speed, capturing her lips. Reaching between them, he pressed his thumb against her before circling her clitoris with bold strokes. She tensed. When stars burst in front of her eyes, and all she could think—all she could feel—was him, he joined her, his body tight and a moan ripping out of him, his elegant, tanned face caught in a moment of open vulnerability, of bliss, that filled her heart as surely as he filled her body. She dropped down on the mattress beside him, her breathing heavy and harsh.

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her gently, his hand cupping her cheek. His smile was languorous and as sated as a lion with a full belly. He toyed with her hair. “That was one hell of a yes.”

She shook her head and fought the grin threatening to take over her mouth. “You said you don’t do things by halves.”

“Not for you.” He brushed her hair off her face and his smile melted away. “I’m serious. I…you matter to me, Stephanie.”

She bit her lip, shoving down the foolish giddiness that threatened to explode inside her chest. He was just caught in the afterglow and saying the sort of sweet things men always said after sex. Nothing more—nothing less. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes. He gave her a quick kiss on the back of her neck and curled up behind her. Her eyes drifted shut. She drifted off to sleep with dreams of him filling her head.

Chapter Fourteen

Stephanie woke to bright sunlight, a mild headache, and an empty bed. She rolled over and peered fuzzily at the spot Derek had been in the night before. Her body still tingled from his touch. He must have gotten up before her. Her “fiancé” was an early riser. Good to know.

With a happy sigh, she climbed out of bed and wriggled back into her gown. This would be one hell of a walk of shame, strolling down the road in an evening gown at six in the morning—but not even that could wipe the smile off her face.

She took a quick detour to the bathroom, straightened her hair, and made sure her mascara hadn’t turned from Cover Girl to Walking Dead, then slipped out into the living room. Derek was just ducking through the front door, with two cups of coffee in to-go cups. He raised one and smiled. “For the road.”

She felt a brief pang. Already trying to rush the one-night mistake out the door. No—no, he knew she had to work, he was just being helpful. She swallowed back her sudden rush of embarrassment and smiled. “Thank you.” She took the cup and took a cautious sip.

He rocked back on his heels and averted his eyes. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your place.” His cell phone rang as soon as he finished talking. He glanced at the screen, then dropped it back into his pocket without answering. “It’s the office. I’ll check in later.”

“It’s okay. You have work to do. I’ll…I’ll see you later?”

He hesitated, his eyes on her, but his mind clearly elsewhere. “I’ll call you a cab.” He kissed her, his lips lingering. His hand slid down her arm, lightly grasping her wrist for a moment. “I’ll stop by tonight. We have work to do on your proposal.”

The warmth of his kiss chilled into icy frustration. No. Not just no, hell no.

One night of sex hadn’t changed their business arrangement. She still had to do this on her own—and she would, or she would fail. At least if she failed while trying her best, she could hold her head up high. That kind of failure she could deal with. But failing after letting him do all the work for her? She would die a little bit inside.

“Derek…I haven’t changed my mind about this. This is something I have to do on my own. Don’t you understand that?”

His eyes shuttered over, leaving the cold, emotionless man he’d been when they first met. “No. Not when I’m ready and willing to help you in any way I can.”

She clenched her fists. “That’s just it, though. I don’t need or want your help. This is something I have to do alone.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “There’s nothing wrong with a second pair of eyes to provide a fresh perspective. It’s a small thing, but you’re too stubborn to see that. You’d rather fall flat on your ass than let me help you.”

She lifted her chin. His words stung more than any blow. “At least if I fall flat on my ass, I’d have tried to find my own foothold first.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she walked out the door before she could do something stupid. Like scream at him. Or cry. Or both. He had no faith in her. Even after all the times they’d talked, even after all the times she’d
shown
him that she could do this, he still thought she would fail without him.

As she walked through the hotel lobby, she got more than a few odd looks from the staff and other guests. Maybe it was the raccoon eyes. Maybe it was the stupid dress she never should have let him buy. Probably a combination of the two. Either way, it reinforced that last night was a mistake.

She stepped into the harsh morning sunlight. A cab was just pulling up to the curb. She let out a bitter laugh. Of course. Of course Mr. Perfect had stayed true to his word and called her a cab, even when she’d walked out on him.

The cabbie rolled down the passenger-side window and leaned across the front seat. “You Stephanie Miller?”

“Yeah,” she said, and fought down a perverse urge to just walk home. “Yeah, that’s me.”

She fumbled herself into the back seat and gave the driver her address. She was home within minutes, and wasted no time getting upstairs and tearing out of the stupid, annoying, maddeningly beautiful gown. The gown that had made her feel special. Like a princess.

Did he want to keep her in an ivory tower, while he ordered her life for her?

She stood under the shower and let the hot water revive her. How could he not get it? She didn’t want anyone’s help. That was just the way she was. It wasn’t personal. She wasn’t rejecting him in specific. Was that why he was being so insistent? Did he think she was pushing him away, when she might accept the offer from someone else?

She didn’t know how to make him understand. It wasn’t about him at all. It was her own self-doubt. Her entire life she’d had people rushing to do things for her. Hell, she’d been late learning to
walk
because her brothers carried her everywhere like some kind of favorite toy. Even when she’d started toddling around, they’d followed her and retrieved her toys for her, making sure she’d never have to strain to reach the higher shelves. She loved them to death—but she needed to grow up and do this on her own.

Without any help from anyone.

She didn’t want Derek’s help. She wanted his respect as an equal, even if earning it drove him away. He was leaving anyway, she thought, and ignored the hot sting in the back of her eyes. Why did it matter? They’d never talked about any sort of…anything. Somehow strategy meetings and a fake engagement had turned into real dates and stolen kisses, and she had no idea what any of it meant. She’d just fallen headlong, without thinking, into this unnamed thing.

Fallen headlong into love with him.

It didn’t matter. Soon she wouldn’t need him anymore, and before he left she’d show him. She would spend the entire work day ignoring the outside world. She’d slave over every detail of her proposal, until it was perfect. No errors. No oversights.

And she would
win.

On her way to the office, she pictured Derek’s smile when she told him. Would he laugh? Would he accept that she was just as capable as he was, and stop trying to rescue her all the time?

Would he stay?

She couldn’t let herself think about that. At the office, she threw herself into the distraction of work. Several hours and even more hand cramps later, her desk phone rang. She yawned, stretched, and glanced at the clock. She’d been working for five hours straight, but she was finished. And it was perfect.

She picked up her phone. “Hello?”

“My office.” Rodgers hung up without waiting for an answer.

“Since you asked so nicely…” she muttered.

It was probably about the Weyland Project, and Wheeler. She collected her newly polished file, still hot from the printer, gathered her composure, and walked into Rodgers’ office.

Derek was standing there, next to Rodgers’ desk. She recoiled.

“Derek? What are you doing here?”

He looked back at her, his gaze completely closed, his face unreadable, but didn’t answer.

“Ms. Miller.” Rodgers thumbed through a stack of papers. She caught a glimpse of graphs that looked suspiciously familiar. “Come in. Shut the door behind you. We need to talk.”

Had Derek gone to Wheeler about his problems with the proposal? No—no, he wouldn’t play dirty like that. What was going on, then? She shut the door and edged a little further into the room. This felt like a nightmare. The kind where she was naked in front of her entire senior class. Or maybe more like that one time she really had shown up for a college lecture in just a bra and jeans, so brain-dead from a two-day study binge she hadn’t realized her “halter top” was a little more breezy than normal. At least she could wake up from a nightmare.

Yep. Definitely a halter top moment, and from the look on Derek’s face she wouldn’t like the way this was about to play out.

“Is something wrong, sir?” she asked.

“Not at all. I’ve had a look at Mr. Rory’s version of the proposal, and it’s flawless.”

His…version of the proposal? Stephanie stumbled back, her printouts clutched to her chest. “What?”

Rodgers lifted both eyebrows slowly, a glint of malice in his eyes. “You didn’t know I’d asked him to prepare a separate presentation? I’d thought he would have told you. You should thank him. He’s just saved your job.”

Thank him? That…that backstabber. That
cheat
. He’d been working with Rodgers all along, and now he’d stolen her case from her. He’d lied, plotting against her while she’d slept in his bed. The entire time he’d been telling her about playing the game, he’d been playing one himself.

And he’d completely played
her
.

Stephanie backed away and swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I’m glad you’re happy now,” she said, and turned her back on them both.

Derek’s cold man mask slipped a bit, letting her see the pain in his eyes. Pain that echoed hers. “Stephanie, wait,” Derek said. “Let me explain.”

“Don’t. You don’t need to.” She let her worthless stack of printouts drop and fumbled for the doorknob, barely able to see past her tears. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going home early. I have a headache.”

She flung herself into the hallway and headed for her desk. She didn’t even bother to shut off her computer. She just grabbed her purse and nearly ran for the stairs, shoving past anyone in her way. She needed to get home before she lost it. Everything she’d worked so hard on for the past year was now garbage. Time wasted, when Derek had just outmaneuvered and outperformed her in just a few days.

She really wasn’t cut out for this.

“Stephanie!” Derek caught her at the stairwell door. He grasped her elbow, his grip firm but gentle. “Please let me explain—”

“Please?” She yanked free and glowered up at him. “Did you listen to me when I asked you to
please
stay out of my job? Did you?”

“I tried!” he thundered. “Rodgers made it clear you’d be fired if I didn’t do as he asked. What would you do if you lost your job? Where would you go? I only wanted to help.”

“And I didn’t want your help.” She lifted her chin. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “If you’d really wanted to help, you’d have let me do this on my own. If you’d really wanted to help, you’d have had a backbone and stood up to him.” She sniffled, nearly choking on the knot in her throat. “But I guess that’s too much to expect from someone so spineless he’s still following Daddy’s rules.”

His face turned cold. His eyes hardened. “This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?” She shoved him; he stumbled back. “You need to control everything. You tried to control me. You say you don’t want to be like him, but you’re still doing everything you can to be better than everyone else so you can win his approval. You had to be better than
me
, when this was my opportunity to prove myself. Not yours.
Mine
.” She backed away until her hips hit the stairwell door. “He’s never going to approve of you because you don’t approve of yourself. But I hope you’re happy,” she bit off. “Because you still won.”

He only looked at her, cold as the grave, the warm, laughing man she’d unearthed once again buried under frigid stone. She couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. Couldn’t stand any of this. She pushed through the door and ran, taking the stairs two at a time. She didn’t stop running until she was in her apartment with the door locked behind her. And when she stopped running…she started crying.

And then couldn’t stop.

…

He’d fucked up.

He’d been trying to help her. Hadn’t he? He thought back on his entire life. His ruthless drive to succeed. The consuming desire to make something of himself, to the exclusion of his personal life. Was he really so fixated on winning, just to gain the approval of a man he cared nothing for? Did he really need to triumph over his father so desperately that he’d ruined everything with Stephanie to do it?

Daddy issues
, she’d called it. And right now, as he stood outside her apartment building and looked up at her window, he felt like a stupid, immature little boy. He’d needed to be right. And in doing so, he’d lost her.

When he’d just learned how to love her.

He’d come to respect her. Admire her. But something else had grown, over tortilla chips and paper-cup champagne and her bright, warm laughter. Something deeper than lust. Something that made him want to find out just how real this fake relationship could be.

He’d let that love blind him. He’d thought because he loved her, he could beg her forgiveness after he’d helped her. That things would have been fine in the end. She would have her job, and he would have her.

Except he didn’t. He’d seen the look in her eyes. She wouldn’t forgive him.

He took the stairs to her floor and stood outside her door for nearly a minute before he knocked. At first he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then the deadbolt slid. The door opened a crack, the chain still latched. He could only see a sliver of her face, but it was enough to clutch a fist of pain around his heart. Her eyes, nose, and lips were reddened and swollen, her cheeks wet with tears.

He’d done that to her.

“Stephanie,” he tried, then fell silent. What could he say?

“Just go home, Derek.”

He gripped the door, stopping it from closing unless she wanted to break his fingers “Don’t send me away. Not like this.”

Tears swam in her eyes. Because of
him.
He’d been such a fool.

“I just want to be left alone right now,” she said.

Even though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he forced himself to step back. He hadn’t listened before. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice—even if every primitive instinct in him was telling him to stay. To fight for her. To fight to discover what they could be.

“I’m…I’ll be at my hotel. Call when you’re ready to talk.”

She shook her head. “Go
home
. Back to D.C. We’re done, Derek.”

He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to shout, to do something, anything to make her understand how he felt, but nothing came. Nothing but his damnable silence, and his father’s voice taunting him.

Love is for weak men. Are you weak?