Read Online Falling For Her Fake Fiancé (The Beaumont Heirs 5) by Sarah M. Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah M. Anderson
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reliable, would talk.
When she’d stroked his face at dinner, she’d seen the headlines in her mind. “Whirlwind Romance between Beaumont Heir and New Brewery CEO?” That was what Ethan wanted, wasn’t it? The air of Beaumont approval. This was nothing but a PR ploy.
Except...
Except for the way he’d kissed her. The way he’d kept kissing her.
At some point between when he’d sucked on her thumb and the kiss in the lobby—the first one, she mentally corrected—the game they’d been playing had changed.
It was all supposed to have been for show. But the way he had pinned her against the door in this very nice room? The way his deep voice had begged her to tell him what she wanted?
That hadn’t felt like a game. That hadn’t been for show.
The only thing that had kept her from spinning right over the edge was the knowledge that he didn’t want her. Oh, he wanted her—naked, that was—but he didn’t want
her
, Frances—complicated and crazy and more than a little lost. He’d only touched her because he wanted something, and she could not allow that to cloud her thinking.
“What—” He cleared his throat, but it didn’t make his voice any stronger. “What are you doing?”
“Watching television.” She kicked her heels up.
She cut another side glance at Ethan. He hadn’t moved. “Why?”
It took everything Frances had to make herself sound glib and light. “What else are we going to do?”
His mouth dropped down to his chest. “I don’t mean to sound crass, but...sex?”
Frances couldn’t help it. Her gaze drifted down to the impressive bulge in his pants—the same bulge that had ground against her in the elevator.
Sex.
The thought of undoing those pants and letting that bulge free sent an uncontrollable shiver down her back. She snapped her eyes back to the television screen. “Really,” she said in a dismissive tone.
There was a moment where the only noise in the room was the sound of Ethan breathing heavily and some salesman on TV yelling about a cleaning cloth.
“Then what was that all about?” Ethan gruffly demanded.
“Creating an impression.” She did not look at him.
“And who were we impressing in the elevator?”
She put on her most innocent look—which, granted, would have been a lot easier if her nipples weren’t still chafing against the front of her dress. “Fine. A test, then.”
Ethan was suddenly in front of the television, arms crossed as he glared down at her. “A
test
?”
“It has to be convincing, this relationship we’re pretending to have,” she explained, making a big show of looking around his body, rather than at the still-obvious bulge in his pants. “But part of the deal was that we don’t have sex.” She let that sink in before adding, “You’re not going to back out of the deal, are you?”
Because that was a risk, and she knew it. There were many ways a deal could go south—especially when sex was on the line.
“You’re testing
me
?” He took a step to the side, trying to block her view of the screen again.
“I won’t marry just anyone, you know. I have standards.”
She could feel the weight of his glare on her face, but she refused to allow her skin to flush. She leaned the other way. Not that she had any idea of what she was watching. Her every sense was tuned into Ethan.
It’d be so easy to change her mind, to tell him that he’d passed his first test and that she had another test in mind—one that involved less clothing for everyone. She could find out what was behind that bulge and whether or not he knew how to use it.
She could have a few minutes where she wouldn’t have to feel alone and adrift, where she could lose herself in Ethan. But that was all it would be. A few minutes.
And then the sex would be done, and she’d go back to being broke, unemployed Frances who was trading on her good looks even as they began to slip away. And Ethan? Well, he’d probably still marry her and fund her art gallery.
When she’d stroked his face at dinner, she’d seen the headlines in her mind. “Whirlwind Romance between Beaumont Heir and New Brewery CEO?” That was what Ethan wanted, wasn’t it? The air of Beaumont approval. This was nothing but a PR ploy.
Except...
Except for the way he’d kissed her. The way he’d kept kissing her.
At some point between when he’d sucked on her thumb and the kiss in the lobby—the first one, she mentally corrected—the game they’d been playing had changed.
It was all supposed to have been for show. But the way he had pinned her against the door in this very nice room? The way his deep voice had begged her to tell him what she wanted?
That hadn’t felt like a game. That hadn’t been for show.
The only thing that had kept her from spinning right over the edge was the knowledge that he didn’t want her. Oh, he wanted her—naked, that was—but he didn’t want
her
, Frances—complicated and crazy and more than a little lost. He’d only touched her because he wanted something, and she could not allow that to cloud her thinking.
“What—” He cleared his throat, but it didn’t make his voice any stronger. “What are you doing?”
“Watching television.” She kicked her heels up.
She cut another side glance at Ethan. He hadn’t moved. “Why?”
It took everything Frances had to make herself sound glib and light. “What else are we going to do?”
His mouth dropped down to his chest. “I don’t mean to sound crass, but...sex?”
Frances couldn’t help it. Her gaze drifted down to the impressive bulge in his pants—the same bulge that had ground against her in the elevator.
Sex.
The thought of undoing those pants and letting that bulge free sent an uncontrollable shiver down her back. She snapped her eyes back to the television screen. “Really,” she said in a dismissive tone.
There was a moment where the only noise in the room was the sound of Ethan breathing heavily and some salesman on TV yelling about a cleaning cloth.
“Then what was that all about?” Ethan gruffly demanded.
“Creating an impression.” She did not look at him.
“And who were we impressing in the elevator?”
She put on her most innocent look—which, granted, would have been a lot easier if her nipples weren’t still chafing against the front of her dress. “Fine. A test, then.”
Ethan was suddenly in front of the television, arms crossed as he glared down at her. “A
test
?”
“It has to be convincing, this relationship we’re pretending to have,” she explained, making a big show of looking around his body, rather than at the still-obvious bulge in his pants. “But part of the deal was that we don’t have sex.” She let that sink in before adding, “You’re not going to back out of the deal, are you?”
Because that was a risk, and she knew it. There were many ways a deal could go south—especially when sex was on the line.
“You’re testing
me
?” He took a step to the side, trying to block her view of the screen again.
“I won’t marry just anyone, you know. I have standards.”
She could feel the weight of his glare on her face, but she refused to allow her skin to flush. She leaned the other way. Not that she had any idea of what she was watching. Her every sense was tuned into Ethan.
It’d be so easy to change her mind, to tell him that he’d passed his first test and that she had another test in mind—one that involved less clothing for everyone. She could find out what was behind that bulge and whether or not he knew how to use it.
She could have a few minutes where she wouldn’t have to feel alone and adrift, where she could lose herself in Ethan. But that was all it would be. A few minutes.
And then the sex would be done, and she’d go back to being broke, unemployed Frances who was trading on her good looks even as they began to slip away. And Ethan? Well, he’d probably still marry her and fund her art gallery.
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