Faking It (UnReal #1) Read online

  Confused, and slightly annoyed by all of the talking when all I want is more kissing, I ask, “What is it this time?”

  “That look. Something just made you very happy.” A quirky smile spreads across his face.

  “And you think you make me happy?” I ask sarcastically.

  “I know I do, and I can prove it.” I want to argue back but he tackles me. The glass flute knocks over but he doesn’t seem to care. He takes me to the ground and wrestles me until he has me pinned fully beneath him.

  “Ah. Now there.” His playful voice teasing me. “I finally have you exactly where I want you.”

  My nerves are going berserk, not to mention I feel a monster growing in-between my thighs. “I thought… I thought you wan—wanted to get to know me?” I babble like an idiot.

  “I am getting to know you.” He winks at me. Shit he just winked at me. Stay strong.

  “I’m not going to have sex with you.” What? Yes I am!

  “Good, because I am not going to have sex with you,” he replies.

  “What? Why not?” Okay, don’t sound so disappointed.

  “Because. I already told you. I want to get to know you. And I can’t do that if I am sleeping with you. I want to know you, before I know all of you.”

  Well shit.

  “Well, what happens if I want you to have sex with me?” I ask poking at him.

  “I won’t give in. I can promise you that.”

  That sucks. I mean this could actually be a good thing. A step in the right direction. New Leaf is really on me about shaping up, and with the help of Hunter’s deal maybe we really can get to know each other on a more mental level. Who knows, on the flip side, maybe he is some complete weirdo who has a foot fetish and collects human hair from shower drains. It pays to know these things before! Shall we bring up meat stroker? Exactly.

  “Fine, you’re on then. Same goes for me. I won’t be sleeping with you.”

  Looking all too pleased with my acceptance of his deal, Hunter’s expression tells me he is looking forward to the challenge. “Great.” He brings his hands up cupping my face, “Now that we have this all worked out, I need to kiss you some more.”

  My eyes open wider with shock of his admittance. “I thought you said no sex?”

  “I did. But I never said no kissing. Kissing is simply first base. I plan on eventually making it to second with you. But right now, I can’t go without kissing you one second longer.” And he stays true to that statement when he bends down and places his lips on mine.

  I’M BACK TO MY posing position as Hunter paints.

  I’ve been in this position for the past God knows how many hours. I’m starting to get tired, and to be honest, a little bit sore. I don’t dare ask him again if we can take a break, knowing the grumpy artist will just yell at me not to move, so I continue to suffer through it.

  “You’re slouching.” I hear him from behind me.

  “How am I slouching, I haven’t moved?” I argue.

  “Your body. It’s wearing down. So you are not holding your posture. We’ll stop for the day.”

  Two things hit me at once. One, thank God I can fall to the ground. But two, he said we were done for the day. I assume we will go our separate ways until he is ready for me again and that kind of bums me out. Attempting to play it cool, I grab for my dress and begin to wrap myself in its cloth.

  “What are you doing?” he questions.

  I turn to face him. “Getting dressed. You said we were done.”

  Surprisingly, the expression on his face is fear. “Yes but…do you wish to leave?”

  “Well…um no, but if you wish for me to then—”

  “I want you to stay. Don’t leave. Please,” he says, interrupting me. His tone is close to begging.

  “All right, I’ll stay,” I agree, feeling so relieved that I can’t help the stupid goofy smile that spreads across my face. I am not ready for this day to be over yet. I decide to assume Hunter isn’t either when he exhales, his breath leaving him in a rush.

  “Great. Can I take you to dinner? Let me take you to the best bistro in Los Angeles,” he proposes, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Thinking about the dress I wore up here that’s been accumulating wrinkles since I got here. “Yeah sure, but I’ll need to go back to my room to change.”

  At the suggestion of us parting, a flash of apprehension crosses Hunter’s face. “It will be really quick. I can meet you in the lobby in like thirty minutes,” I assure him. He’s still struggling to agree with my plan. I can tell. Someone is totally not okay with letting me out of his sight, and it fills me with glee.

  “I mean…you can come with me, and I can change while you wait,” I offer.

  He wants to say yes. I know it. His eyes cannot lie. “No, its fine. Thirty minutes. I will meet you in the lobby.” He barely holds eye contact with me, which I find super sexy, and I nod.

  After dressing, I go to move past him when he grasps my hips savagely, pulling me to him. His mouth is on mine, one hand in my hair, the other holding me by the waist possessively. His tongue teases mine as it slides into my mouth. Our kiss deepens, his hand pulling at my hair to allow him greater access. He lets out a low moan that reverberates through me down to my pinky toe. All too quickly, he pulls away, holding my face in his hands, his thumbs lightly stroking my cheeks just as they did this morning. God this morning feels like ages ago. A few beats pass before he says, “Try not to be late this time.”

  He releases me, a soft chuckle leaving his beautiful mouth. Trying to hide my damn blushing cheeks, I turn and head back to my room. Once I’m enclosed, I exhale a huge gust of air. “What in the fuck?” I mumble to myself, as I lay against the back of the door for the second time today.

  Talk about not seeing this one coming! I mean who is this guy? You’ll be in and out, Chrissy had said. I’ve definitely gotten the in and out tongue lashing part out of the way. But the bigger question is what is he doing to me? Between all these new fuzzy feelings I’m not familiar with and my confidence level malfunctioning every two seconds, I feel like I have lost total control of this crazy unexpected situation. I mean I am always in charge. But why do I feel like I'm the farthest from that with Hunter?

  I shake my head and push off the door.

  “Pull it together, girl.” I am in serious need of one good pep talk. It’s imperative that my confidence comes back from the little vacation she left on because I have a hot date and the perfect little number to compliment her with.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m walking into the lobby searching for Hunter. I spot him fighting with his watch, pacing the atrium. Once he turns and sees me, relief floods his face. “Thought I was going to ditch you?” I kid while making my way up to him. He meets me halfway and grabs for my hand. Pulling me into his hard chest, he places a gentle kiss on my cheek.

  “I dare not think about the havoc that would ensue if that were the case. You look lovely,” he says. I decided on a white fitted dress ending at my knees, with a halter neckline which gives the girls a nice boost, along with my gold Jimmy Choo heels. He holds me at a distance, gaining him a better view of my attire.

  “I’m afraid to say this, but I am debating on taking you back up to my suite and ordering more room service. Not sure I’m willing to share you with anyone while you’re looking like that.” My cheeks flush at his compliment. I’m used to getting them, but coming from Hunter, it’s different. The way he’s staring at me, tells he means every word. And that causes that damn unfamiliar feeling in my chest again.

  I do a little spin for his full viewing pleasure. “Well, I would normally agree with you, but this dress is made to be seen. Plus, this is LA, if I were dressed any more down I would stand out like a sore thumb,” I finish on a wink.

  “Wait, this is how everyone dresses?” he asks sounding shocked.

  “Well yeah, this is LA, Hunter. I’m sure you see it all the time. Dressing down consists of wearing undergarments,” I state matter-of-factly. A grumble lea
ves his throat as he swipes both hands down his face. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t go out much.”

  “What do you mean you don’t go out?”

  “Exactly what I said. I tend to prefer my own space. My own company, if you will.”

  Oh my God, Hunter James is a hermit! Chrissy’s comment about him being reclusive was no joke. “When was the last time you went out?” He looks like he has to think this over. Shit, he really has to decipher.

  “Seven months ago, give or take.”

  Jesus. “Hunter James, you need to get out more!” I exclaim.

  “I am. I am taking you out to dinner. A quick one, so we can return back to my penthouse.” I know Hunter’s ultimate plan, as he says, is to get to know me, but little did I know I was equally going to learn about him. His facial expression is tight. The thought of leaving his personal bubble is causing stress on him. I smile at his inner battle, knowing he is seconds away from pulling us back upstairs and seriously ordering that room service.

  I step forward practically touching toes and shocking him with my blunt approach. “Okay Hunter James, I have a deal for you. We are going to go out. And we are going to eat some food. If you are having a miserable time, we can come back here. If you decide that you are having a good time, we will extend the night and see where it takes us. Deal?”

  I can see the debate playing out on his face, until I give him my signature smile and watch as his eyes relax. And give in. Bingo. “You have yourself a deal—to most likely only an appetizer, because I am not sure I have it in me to share you with the outside world.” He grabs my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. A spark shoots up my arm as our skin connects. The unfamiliar feeling still confusing, I turn to Hunter, his eyes telling me he feels it too. I am so fucked. “Let’s go.” He breaks our eye contact, tugging me toward the door. “If I don’t get you outside soon, I cannot guarantee even an appetizer.”

  And as he guides us toward the exit, I wonder if that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

  HUNTER TAKES ME TO a small bistro. The entire outdoor seating area is lit with hanging lights and an array of candles throughout the area. The mood is very romantic, and we seem to have the entire patio to ourselves. “Must be a slow night for them,” I comment noticing no one else is sitting in the outdoor section. I peer inside and strangely the restaurant looks swamped. “That’s weird, you would think people would fight to eat out here, such a lovely night,” I observe looking around and ending with my eyes connecting with his.

  “What?” I ask at his intense stare.

  “You just bewilder me is all. I have never in my existence been so entranced by someone’s entire being.”

  Shit. That was a direct hit. What are we at strike three? Four? And the way I’m beginning to blush is becoming quite embarrassing. It’s like I’m in high school again and my first crush just complimented my Trapper Keeper. His compliments have a way of bringing out the shy schoolgirl in me, getting me all flustered every time he praises me. They also have a way of knocking down my defenses, placing me closer and closer to losing in our fight to not pass second base.

  “Oh, give me a break. I bet your Rolodex is filled with flaunting women begging to entrance you. I’m sure I’m no different.” I brush off his words trying to lighten the mood. It’s a cop-out. I know this. But dammit the way he’s studying me is unnerving. I’m about ready to scream man down because my confident persona is starting to feel not so confident. I take a Band-Aid to the situation by taking a hefty gulp of the martini the waiter brought while staring anywhere and everywhere but at him.

  “You are the only one I want to see,” is what Hunter responds with. My response is to nearly choke on my drink. Jesus, does this guy have a way with words. I don’t ever fall for pick-up lines. But with Hunter, I am not quite sure that’s what they are. But he probably has had a lot of practice. Total professional. Knows exactly what to say to win girls over. Come on Lexi. Don’t fall for it girl. Ugh! I’m trying not to, but every word out of his mouth is like a warming sensation that spreads down my whole body, leaving tingles in its path. It doesn’t escape my attention that I’m also describing the effects of warming lube. I need to stop. I make a mad dash to change the subject.

  “How do you know about this place?” I ask before taking a double sip from my martini. (Aka chugging.) I’m hoping more vodka will calm my overactive nerves.

  “I own it.”

  Nope. I choke on another mouthful of my drink.

  “You what?” Jesus I just want to get some of this alcohol into my system! I survey the quaint bistro and all of a sudden, it clicks. “Did you reserve the whole outside?”

  “I did.”

  “Jesus why? That’s gotta be pricey losing business like that,” I protest.

  He shrugs, adjusting himself in his seat. He looks uncomfortable trying to find the words to explain himself. “Money is not a problem for me, and I wanted to make sure we had no distractions. Your presence is the only presence I require,” he says and settles his gaze on mine.

  And poof!

  That’s it. I’m gonna lose my cool kid persona. And Lexi Hall never loses her cool. I go ahead and slam my martini. And quickly, before he says one more thing. He was right. We are positively not eating a full meal, and the way this is going, we will be making it way past second base tonight. I signal for the waiter, pointing to my near empty drink glass.

  “You seem uncomfortable now. Why?” he inquires, his tone serious.

  Great question! I’ll take ‘What’s wrong with me?’ for 900, Alex. I should be used to this. The attention. Didn’t I just mention that I was Lexi Hall? I’m seriously confused how easily he is throwing me off my game. Normally at this point, I'm dazing off wondering what size, color and gel I’m going to be scooping out of my nightstand when I get home. And I'm definitely not thinking about anything artificial right now.

  “Lexi? Are you in there?” he interrupts me.

  Grabbing my attention, I turn to him instantly. “For sure. Yep, all here…” Thankfully, the waiter returns with our refills asking us if we’re ready to order. Just before I spit out “More martinis, and keep ‘em coming,” another staff member approaches our table.

  “Mr. James! How wonderful to see you in the bistro tonight. I was told we had a special guest.” A plump gentleman dressed in a crisp white chef attire smiles widely. Hunter stands, shaking his hand. “Antonio it is always a pleasure to see how well you are doing. It is my honor to dine from your menu.” Antonio, the chef, smiles proudly then turns to me.

  “Ah, and this must be the lovely—”

  Hunter cuts him off. “Antonio Latini, this is Lexi Hall.” Eyebrows raised, he gives me a quick glance and replaces his confused expression with a warm smile. “Ah yes, hello Miss Hall. The pleasure is certainly all mine. I hope you and our Hunter here enjoy the menu this evening”

  I nod politely, while Hunter finishes up their small chatter and sits back down.

  “What was he going to say? Did he think I was someone else?” I ask, curious at the chef’s reaction to me.

  “Antonio thinks everyone reminds him of someone. I just saved him the trouble of his runaway tongue. Now,” he changes the conversation by handing the unopened menus to our waiter. “William, we’re going to have the Kumamoto oysters. Make sure they are the best of today’s catch. I want six. Then wrap up the Belgium chocolate mousse to go. Have the mussels out in five minutes. The dessert wrapped and ready in fifteen.”

  Quickly dismissing the waiter he turns to me. I’m stunned by his minimal order. I mean, I know the whole deal I made if Hunter wasn’t enjoying himself, but that poor chef just boasted how excited he was to cook for him. There is no way now we can just eat and run.

  Startling Hunter, I yell for the retreating waiter. He turns confused, looking back and forth between us and ending on Hunter, seemingly for approval. Ugh. I’m totally making a scene.

  I bend forward, “Hunter, you just told your friend how excited you were to eat his food. How d
oes that make you look when you only order oysters!?” I quietly scold him.

  Leaning into me he replies, “Makes me look like we had a deal and I will feed you that appetizer we agreed on and get you back to my penthouse. And Antonio will continue on just fine,” he concludes, his deep voice matching his confident expression. Damn, that look. That smile. Those deep emerald orbs. It makes me feel like he is consuming me with just his eyes. God, he’s beautiful. But I still don’t care what he thinks. We are at least eating a full meal before he hides back away in his cave.

  No matter what.

  Even if getting past second base does sound appealing.

  No!

  To get a feel for what I saw begging to break free from his jeans…

  Gah! Focus.

  “Yes, Miss? Can I offer you something else?”

  Offering my attention to the waiter, I say, “Yes, please. We weren’t done ordering. Um… I’ll have… I’ll have…” Shit. “…I’ll have another round of drinks, extra olives, please,” I request sticking my chin up. Okay, so in all honesty maybe I’m not huge on the eating a meal thing either. After all, I kind of consider myself more of a garnish eater anyway. You know the double blue cheese olives in my martinis, the extra loaded goods in a Bloody Mary, my daily fruit consumption in my Piña Coladas. The musical sounds of soft laughter cause me to turn toward Hunter who is watching me in amusement and back to the waiter who looks baffled. Hunter pulls his smiling eyes away from me and turns to the waiter.

  “As the lady wishes,” is all he says while he brings his mischievous eyes back to mine. Feeling foolish, I slam the rest of my current martini and slip a blue cheese olive off the fancy toothpick and into my mouth. The waiter finally nods and scurries back to the kitchen. All the while, Hunter’s focus remains on me. Standing suddenly he pushes his chair away from the table, startling me. I gaze at him in shock wondering what he can possibly be doing now, until I realize he’s moving to sit next to me. Oh come on! Now he isn’t playing fair. “Why… why are you moving?” I stutter, my nerves in an uproar. Needing a distraction, I decide to shove two more olives in my mouth. Shit, what’s wrong with me? Wondering when my ladylike manners took a hiatus and left me looking more like a goddamn stuffed chipmunk. I get the first one chewed by the time he makes his way to me. His chair is so close, his thighs brush against my bare skin as he sits.