Pretending He's Mine (11 page)

Reeve turned his attention to his fake fiancé. “How did I know?” he said as if he were contemplating the answer. “I’ll tell you how I knew. Because there was no way not to know. There was no way it could be otherwise. I’d fallen hard for this woman from the moment I first met her. And the more I got to know her, the more I liked her.”

“Oh that is so sweet,” Nicholas’ wife said.

“Tell us more,” Janelle chimed in.

Sutton looked at the two wives. They seemed to be hanging on every word Reeve said to her. It was as if they were being romanced by him. Maybe that’s what they wanted. To feel loved vicariously by a gorgeous, beautiful, thoughtful young man. Sutton understood that sort of wish.

“Every day it became more clear. It’s the way she takes care of her dog, and the way she teases me. It’s the books she likes and the wry sense of humor. It’s the way she likes all the things I do for her. It’s the way she lets me save her when she needs saving. And the way she takes charge when she needs to take charge. It’s the way she’s so tough on the outside, but inside I can see through her and I know what’s in her heart. It’s the way she only lets me know what’s really in her heart. It’s the way she says yes. Most of all, it’s the way she says yes.”

Sutton placed a hand on her belly, as if she could quell all the feelings, all the emotions, all the desire he’d stirred in her. To say those things in front of everyone. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and smother him in kisses. Forget all the make-believe. She was ready to go all in.

But yet, she knew better. She had to guard her heart. She had to be strong. She must refuse to let herself be seduced by the act.

“And I guess, most of all it’s that she chose me. She’s the kind of woman who could have anyone, but she chose me,” Reeve said as he looked deeply into Sutton’s eyes. She forced herself to feel nothing as he held onto her gaze, even though she felt everything for him. Every. Single. Thing. And it was killing her. “So really, when you find someone you’re crazy about, you don’t let her go, right?”

Janelle clasped a hand on her mouth. She looked as if she were about to cry happy tears. “I think I need more wine,” she said. “Would you mind grabbing that fabulous bottle you brought earlier?”

“No problem,” Reeve said and stood up, holding a hand for Sutton.

♦ ♦ ♦

Once inside the wine closet-slash-cellar, she turned to him. “That was quite a performance.”

Her voice seemed cold. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Absolutely,” she said, as she searched for the bottle. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Totally. Because you know what I’d have said if I’d told the truth?” He grabbed her arm, gripping her wrist tightly, and spinning her around so she was facing him, wine bottles on either side of them.

“What? That I made you a deal? That I promised you an audition? That it was all trumped up?”

“No,” he said, anger in his voice. “I would tell that you are hot and cold. That it makes me crazy. That I can’t read you, and I can’t figure you out. That one minute you are all over me and the next you push me away. That I want you so badly, and I love the way you are, but that I find you totally absolutely crazy-making at the same time. And that makes me want to just push you out of my life.”

“So push me out,” she said, challenging him.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?”

“Absolutely,” she said in that crisp, too-controlling voice. “Just push me out. I’ll be on my way, and you’ll be on your way, and it’ll be all fine, as if this week never happened. We’ll both get what we want.”

“Will we?” he asked, moving in closer to her. “Will we get what we want?”

“Yes, of course. And then you can go, like you want to.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he said, sliding another inch near to her. They were so close now, he could almost see the waves of anger radiating from her tense, tight body.

“What do you want then, Reeve? What could you possibly want?”

“What if I want you?”

She closed her eyes briefly, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. He wished he had the secret code to her heart, like he had to her body. “You don’t though,” she said in a resigned voice. “You don’t want me.”

“I do,” he said roughly, gripping her arm. Then he loosened his hold on her, but still held her close. She was shaking the tiniest bit, and he worried that he’d scared her. “Sutton,” he said, lowering his voice. “You make me crazy, and I want you. I totally want you. So much. In every way. Every real way.”

He dropped a hand to her waist, and felt her move her body into his touch.

“You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“For real?” she asked, and her voice wavered.

He wanted to hold her and reassure her, so he placed a hand gently on her cheek and looked in her eyes. “Those kisses? They were not fake. I promise. And this? Right now,” he said, stopping to brush his lips against her, so softly, so gently, he heard her gasp. “Not an act, either.”

“Reeve,” she said. “I’m not pretending with you. I’m totally not pretending at all.”

“Neither am I.” He ran his hands along her sides, over the fabric of her dress, feeling the heat from her body. “And this, right now? This is real. When I turn you around, and lift up your dress, and slide into you—that won’t be an act. But I’ll only do it if you say yes to me, Sutton.”

She looked up at him, and she was soft and vulnerable. She was the Sutton who liked books, the Sutton who let herself be saved, the Sutton who wanted to know who Reeve really was. She was the woman he’d loved getting to know better this crazy, topsy-turvy week.

“Right here?”

He nodded.

She swallowed. Breathed out. Nodded. “Yes.”

Then she turned around, placed her hands between two wine bottles, bracing herself against the wooden rack. He hiked her skirt up to her hips and slid a hand between her legs, rewarded with his favorite thing in the world. How ready she was for him. Her panties were damp, and as he touched the cotton panel between her legs, he could feel the wetness all the way through. He reached inside his wallet, took out a condom, opened it and put the wrapper back into his pocket. He unzipped the pants she’d bought for him, lowered his boxer briefs, and rolled on the condom. Like her, he was more than ready. He was aching to be inside her. Deftly, he drew her panties down to her knees, and angled her hips up slightly. She arched back, an invitation. He slid two fingers across her and she breathed out hard at his touch. Her body was trembling—she wanted this so much. She wanted him so much. As he glided his fingers against her, he knew exactly how ready she was for him. God, she needed it, she needed him so badly right now, just as much as he needed her. He stroked her more, grinning as she gasped and leaned her head back. She was so turned on, and her readiness made him even harder.

“I’m pretty sure you’re ready now,” he said.

“I’m so ready.”

He pushed against her wetness, groaning as he began to enter her. She was silky and soft and tight, and soon he filled her up, pausing to savor the absolute fucking fantastic feeling of being inside her.

“Does this feel good?” he asked in a soft voice.

“It feels incredible, Reeve. I love the way you fill me up.”

He rocked into her. “How much do you love it?”

“I’m so fucking turned on.”

“More than you have ever been before?” he asked as he slid almost all the way out, making her moan.

“I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”

He stayed like that, teasing her, knowing how risky it was to be playing like this at someone’s house. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care one bit about what they thought.

“Are you sure?” he said, rocking an inch into her, but no more. She shivered, and tried to push back onto him. But he held his hands tight on her hips.

“Yes, god yes.”

“Say please then, Sutton. Say please.”

“Oh god, Reeve. Please fuck me. I’m dying for you to be inside me again.”

He thrust deep into her, and she said his name in a hot whisper.

“If you beg me, I’ll make you come,” he said.

“I’m begging you then. I’m begging you, Reeve. Please fuck me here in the wine cellar. I’m begging you to fuck me until I come.”

“There. That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said, driving into her, feeling her tighten around him. With one hand holding her hip, he moved his other hand around to the front, touching her where she needed it most. She grabbed his wrist instantly, adjusting the rhythm of his hand.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” she said, in a raspy voice.

“Should I stop then?”

“No,” she said, her voice worried. “Please don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?” he teased as he moved in and out of her.

“I’m begging you. I’m begging you not to stop.”

“Just this once then,” he teased, and kept up the motions, rocking into her glorious wetness and touching her, his body pressed against her, feeling as if he were surrounding her, with pleasure, with sensations, with the purity of the absolute and perfect chemistry that existed between the two of them. He loved that she couldn’t control this, that she didn’t want to turn it off, that she couldn’t even grasp a single way to play cool and calm Sutton. She was hot and wild Sutton. She was needy Sutton. She was burning, fiery Sutton whose body cried out for him to bring her to the wildest and fiercest of places—to that far edge of want. With one final thrust, and one slide of his fingers she gasped, shuddered, and came so hard on him that he could literally feel the intensity of her orgasm spread throughout her body, and that was all it took for him to finish off too.

Janelle opened the door as Sutton pulled up her panties. She shrieked. “Oh my god.”

Sutton’s face burned with embarrassment. She couldn’t even look at Reeve and see if he’d gotten his pants up in time. She didn’t even know where the condom was.

Janelle glowered at the two of them. She had one hand on the door and one on her hip. Her frosty expression made it clear they’d crossed a line.

“You two were fucking in my wine closet?” she asked, punctuating each word with what felt like a verbal lashing.

Sutton gulped and nodded. They’d been caught red-handed. There was no way she could deny what they’d just done. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reeve jamming something into his pocket. It must be the used condom. She cringed, and had no clue how Reeve would sweet talk his way out of this with Janelle.

The icy woman shook her head in a tsk-tsk gesture. “What am I supposed to do with the two of you?”

“Um…” Sutton began, but she didn’t know what to say or how to answer.

“No. I mean it. You can’t keep your hands off each other.”

Sutton looked down at her boots, embarrassed.

“It’s constant between the two of you. In the balcony of the theater, and then in the library. You two can’t stop touching each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Sutton said in a small, meek voice. She was an idiot. What had she done? She’d focused so much on playing the part of believable mates that she hadn’t stopped to think how they’d crossed the lines of propriety.

But wait. Had Janelled watched it all? The library too? Was Reeve right in his earlier assessment?

“Don’t be,” Janelle said in a harsh voice.

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Janelle said, then a sly smile appeared on her face. “You did exactly what I wanted you to do. I have had such a wonderful week watching the two of you. I have never enjoyed spying on a hot, young couple in the throes of passion more than I have enjoyed the two of you.”

Sutton’s jaw dropped. Her eyes widened, and she was, quite simply, gobsmacked. Because Janelle was indeed a peeping tom. Janelle had followed them around and watched them. She was a naughty, bawdy, dirty, pervert.

“I’ll make sure you get the job, Ms. Brenner. And as for you, you handsome young thing,” Janelle said to Reeve. “I don’t know which role yet, but consider yourself cast in Escorted Lives.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Sutton had never seen Reeve so elated. So emotional. He ordered another round of drinks at Dahlia’s, the bar where they’d gone to celebrate. She’d always had a hunch she’d win the job, but she knew it was a bigger gamble for him to win a role, though Janelle hadn’t specified which part. Still, he was simply glowing. His eyes were bright, and he was filled with the joy of a little boy on Christmas morning. She knew that look—she’d seen it in the eyes of every actor she’d ever cast. That was what an actor wanted more than anything—a role. Reeve had been down on his luck, and now he was on top of the world. He had to be feeling the purest of emotions right now. Full and utter elation.

“We pulled it off, Sutton! We pulled it off, babe.” He pumped a fist in the air, then winked at her. “And I told you she was a peeping tom. Was I right or was I right? She might have cut her husband off, but she’s been feeding her own fantasies by watching other people. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Totally,” Sutton said and smiled. Janelle was an odd one, but then everyone had her own kink.

Reeve grabbed Sutton and kissed her hard on the mouth, and she gave in for a moment to the feel of him. When he ended the kiss he pounded his fist on the bar and shouted “Best night of my life.”

It was a very good night for her too. That was true. But yet, he hadn’t said anything more about the two of them. She’d admitted in the wine closet that she wasn’t pretending, that she had real feelings for him. Wouldn’t now be the perfect moment for them to figure out what was next? Would they spend more time together? But as the night wore on, Reeve never mentioned where they would go from here.

He was still in his celebratory mood, happy and toasting everyone and everything. Except for them.

To Sutton, this seemed to be the first unimpeachable show of emotion from Reeve. The first unquestionable one. This was the moment when she was sure he wasn’t acting. And because she was sure now, that made her all the more unsure of every moment this past week that had come before.

Suddenly, she had a horrible headache and had to go home.

Women were confusing. Sutton was supposed to be happy. She got the gig she wanted, and they were both open about liking each other, right? Reeve scratched his head as he looked at the letters in front of him on the Scrabble tiles. How the hell was he playing Scrabble? Oh right. Because Sutton had ignored his calls. Because she’d come down with that headache. Because women made no fucking sense. So he’d trucked it over to Jill’s apartment and now it was Sunday afternoon, two days after the most epic sex and most epic night of his life, and he was playing Scrabble with Jill, her roommate Kat and her roommate’s boyfriend, who probably hated him because he’d hit on Kat that one night several weeks ago.