achingly hard boner. He winced and pushed her hand away.
“Well then, you’d better wrap your pretty head around the fact that we won’t be consummating our whatever the hell this is between us. I am not gonna have sex with your father sleeping down the hall. No way. No how. I did way too much sneaking around girls’ parents as a teenager, and now I’m grown up and can afford a decent hotel.”
“You are so damn cute,” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek, then his neck, before placing her hand firmly back where it had been a few seconds before. “And you won’t be able to resist me this weekend. I promise you that.”
He snorted and drove, making himself ignore her, and her murmuring and stroking, unwilling to admit that she was probably one hundred percent right.
“Here we are,” she said and withdrew to her seat as he turned onto a side street in a more populated area. The houses looked newer, circa 1980s most likely, and were closer together. “Better park back here,” she said, indicating the long line of cars on the street. He did, and then raised the car’s roof, securing it in place before walking around to her side. As he opened the door, he caught sight of the long, bare line of her leg, ending in the sky-high wedge heels. Her toenails were painted a bright, candy-worthy pink.
“What’s that?” he questioned, touching a scar that ran down her right kneecap.
“That’s what kept me from playing soccer after my junior year,” she responded tersely, brushing his hand off her leg and getting out. Joey sensed the anxiety pouring off her like visible heat waves. He shut the door and grabbed her before she could move past him. “What?” She tried to sidestep him. “Don’t, Joey. Please.”
But he held onto her, pressed her up against the warm car door and kissed her slowly, softly, gently, trying to share his own innate calm with her through osmosis. When he ended the kiss, she was breathing slowly again. Her eyes shone with the sort of happy mischief he’d first fallen for—this morning? Dear God, had he only known this amazing creature for a day?
She smiled and touched his lips. “I hope you’re ready for the onslaught, boyfriend.”
He kissed her fingertip, then the dip of skin where her collarbones joined at the base of her neck. She shivered and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You are really taking this whole farce pretty damn seriously,” she whispered.
Something about that made him stop and pull away from her.
A farce.
That’s right. That’s what this was. A big, fat, fake boyfriend weekend for her parents’ sake.
“What?” she asked him.
“Nothing,” he said, putting a firm choke hold on his looming emotions. “Let’s get this farce on the road, shall we?” He extended his elbow. She took it, and they made their way down the street toward the noise at the biggest house, situated in the cul-de-sac end of the road. At one point, Paige froze. She clutched at his arm.
“Let’s not, okay? I mean . . . I don’t know if I can . . .”
“Don’t be silly, Paige.” Joey patted her arm. “If anyone can pull off this farce, it’s you.”
Chapter Eight
Paige had the distinct sensation of shoving her foot even farther down her own throat every time she opened her mouth with Joey. She’d have given anything to ponder this, to discuss it with him, to explain why she kept deflecting him and reminding him that this whole weekend was a giant lie. As they approached the noise emanating from the backyard of her childhood home, she slowed, then stopped. Not on purpose—her feet simply wouldn’t carry her any closer.
“What’s wrong?” Joey asked. She tried to answer him, but her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. He was so—damn—cute. And hot. And good with his fingers. She could hardly believe she’d only known him half a day.
Paige put her hands on her hips and looked up at the almost painfully bright blue summer sky. Joey waited
“Well then, you’d better wrap your pretty head around the fact that we won’t be consummating our whatever the hell this is between us. I am not gonna have sex with your father sleeping down the hall. No way. No how. I did way too much sneaking around girls’ parents as a teenager, and now I’m grown up and can afford a decent hotel.”
“You are so damn cute,” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek, then his neck, before placing her hand firmly back where it had been a few seconds before. “And you won’t be able to resist me this weekend. I promise you that.”
He snorted and drove, making himself ignore her, and her murmuring and stroking, unwilling to admit that she was probably one hundred percent right.
“Here we are,” she said and withdrew to her seat as he turned onto a side street in a more populated area. The houses looked newer, circa 1980s most likely, and were closer together. “Better park back here,” she said, indicating the long line of cars on the street. He did, and then raised the car’s roof, securing it in place before walking around to her side. As he opened the door, he caught sight of the long, bare line of her leg, ending in the sky-high wedge heels. Her toenails were painted a bright, candy-worthy pink.
“What’s that?” he questioned, touching a scar that ran down her right kneecap.
“That’s what kept me from playing soccer after my junior year,” she responded tersely, brushing his hand off her leg and getting out. Joey sensed the anxiety pouring off her like visible heat waves. He shut the door and grabbed her before she could move past him. “What?” She tried to sidestep him. “Don’t, Joey. Please.”
But he held onto her, pressed her up against the warm car door and kissed her slowly, softly, gently, trying to share his own innate calm with her through osmosis. When he ended the kiss, she was breathing slowly again. Her eyes shone with the sort of happy mischief he’d first fallen for—this morning? Dear God, had he only known this amazing creature for a day?
She smiled and touched his lips. “I hope you’re ready for the onslaught, boyfriend.”
He kissed her fingertip, then the dip of skin where her collarbones joined at the base of her neck. She shivered and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You are really taking this whole farce pretty damn seriously,” she whispered.
Something about that made him stop and pull away from her.
A farce.
That’s right. That’s what this was. A big, fat, fake boyfriend weekend for her parents’ sake.
“What?” she asked him.
“Nothing,” he said, putting a firm choke hold on his looming emotions. “Let’s get this farce on the road, shall we?” He extended his elbow. She took it, and they made their way down the street toward the noise at the biggest house, situated in the cul-de-sac end of the road. At one point, Paige froze. She clutched at his arm.
“Let’s not, okay? I mean . . . I don’t know if I can . . .”
“Don’t be silly, Paige.” Joey patted her arm. “If anyone can pull off this farce, it’s you.”
Chapter Eight
Paige had the distinct sensation of shoving her foot even farther down her own throat every time she opened her mouth with Joey. She’d have given anything to ponder this, to discuss it with him, to explain why she kept deflecting him and reminding him that this whole weekend was a giant lie. As they approached the noise emanating from the backyard of her childhood home, she slowed, then stopped. Not on purpose—her feet simply wouldn’t carry her any closer.
“What’s wrong?” Joey asked. She tried to answer him, but her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. He was so—damn—cute. And hot. And good with his fingers. She could hardly believe she’d only known him half a day.
Paige put her hands on her hips and looked up at the almost painfully bright blue summer sky. Joey waited
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