Faking It (UnReal #1) Page 7

  “Because my hands are aching for you, and I need to be closer,” he replies, moving in closer. I hear my own intake of breath before, yep, it happens. I choke on my olive. I begin hitting my chest while Hunter jumps into action patting my back. Just when I hope I die right here—because the world’s most embarrassing date needs to end somehow—the olive chooses that opportunity to catapult out of my throat, out of my mouth, and bonk off Hunter.

  Right off his face.

  That’s it.

  I have officially lost all my game. There is no coming back from this one. Someone please put up missing signs for my confidence.

  I have my eyes closed, at this point, because I'm secretly praying this is a bad dream. I finally reopen one eye, but sadly, Hunter is there in front of me still, and is now using one of his fancy napkins to wipe the olive splatter from his face.

  “So…” I start not sure where we go from here, besides opposite directions. “Shall we get the check?”

  Slowly finishing cleaning his face, Hunter drops the napkin on the table. He stands again, holding out his hand to me. I was eighty-seven percent kidding on the check part, but I guess he is completely sold on the idea. I feel my shoulders slightly slump as I place my napkin on the table and stand alongside him. As I go to grab my purse he wraps his arm around my waist swinging me away from the table. He motions to someone hidden in the corner, and just when I think we are about to leave, a soft melody begins to hum throughout the patio. Instead of trying to pass me off to the bouncer, he awkwardly begins moving with me in a circular formation.

  “What—what are you doing?” I ask confused, listening to the most beautiful music playing from the outdoor speakers.

  “What does it look like? I am trying to dance with the most enticing woman I have ever met,” he explains somewhat nervously as he attempts to turn me along with the music. Um, does he have memory loss issues? “I just choked on an olive and hacked it up in your face,” I remind him.

  “And when you’re not looking I’m going to take that olive and savor it, knowing it had the luxury of being inside that sweet little mouth of yours.” He looks away from me right after he says this, instantly regretting his choice of words. I’m not sure if that confession was hot or gross, but either way, it has the same rattling effect on me. I attempt a shaky smile which falls several smiles short of my customary trademark one. He makes up for his disgusting but oddly sweet sentiment by turning and dipping me. Bending forward just enough, he runs his nose up my neck, around my chin, and while he slowly brings me back up, he brushes his lips gently to mine, offering me the softest kiss on the lips before dropping one to the end of my nose. “In case it’s not painfully obvious, I am not very good at this,” he says, his hooded eyes masking his nerves. I think the tickle in my chest—or flutter, lots and lots of flutters—says he is doing just fine. His admission may have been the most honest and sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And totally makes up for the savoring my saliva-ridden olive seed line. In fact, that may be one of the simplest, yet sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. Once we’re vertical, between the vodka and the kisses, I feel dizzy. I wrap my arms around his neck.

  “I think you’re doing just fine,” I say with a smile, offering my lips to him once again as he continues to tease me with his sweet mouth while whirling me around the patio. It’s not a sensual tango. It’s not an awkward waltz. It’s somewhere in-between and it’s perfect.

  How can it feel like we have been doing this forever yet we’ve only known each other such a short amount of time? I ask myself. The way our bodies mold perfectly together as we dance under the glowing night sky. Hunter bends forward brushing his nose along my cheek. “I don’t think two days will be enough for me,” he confesses, his grip tightening around my hips as he sways me in circles. I want nothing more than to agree with him. It’s a strange feeling, this attraction evolving into something more. I don’t know how to explain it but it’s definitely a warm feeling. Fuzzy maybe? Oh crap. It’s like fuzzy and flutters are my new main words in my vocabulary now. I take a peek at Hunter who is smiling down at me. I can easily picture having that smile in my life for way past two days.

  I open my mouth to confess my thoughts when the waiter interrupts, the clearing of his throat indicating his arrival with our food and drinks. I pull away, appreciating the reprieve. This situation between us is getting deep, and fast. First, with the excessive use of the “f” words and second, the urge to wrap every word he speaks and place it in a glass case for safekeeping. Treat those special endearments as if they were the finest china to be treasured. I’ve always been guarded with my heart. But with Hunter, I feel like I could finally open up. Like it might be okay. And that scares the piss out of me. Because with my luck, this will end. And I will go back home to the same routine of wishing my life were different. I struggle to find the space between his sincerity and his ultimate goal. We both want the end goal which is hot sex. But he is working very hard to find his way into other parts of me. My head. My feelings. Places I’m not even familiar with.

  “Sir, your oysters, a martini and a gin with two ice cubes,” the waiter announces as he places the items on our table. We make it back where Hunter holds out my chair then takes his seat right next to mine. I grab for a martini and slam it. Because for Christ’s sake, I need something to drown the confusing thoughts floating around in my brain.

  The tasty liquid warms by belly almost immediately. I turn my vision to Hunter who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. He continues to stare at me like no matter the food in front of us, I’m the only meal he wants. And damn he looks hungry. I catch him slide his hands off the table going for his crotch. Yep, clearly he is adjusting himself. I’m not sure if he means for me to see it, but I can’t help my jaw from dropping for a split second. So thumbs up for me! Looks like I haven’t completely lost my sex appeal. When my eyes make their way back up to his face, his heated stare is still focused on me, unchanged. Okay maybe he didn’t realize I noticed.

  Until he winks.

  The simple act sends a jolt through my body—which has nothing to do with the martinis—right down to my thighs. I take a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. Then I bust out laughing. God he is like a walking orgasm. “Oyster time?” he asks, with a sultry smile breaching his face. It appears he’s in the mood to play, and if that’s the case, I can be playful too. I go to grab for an oyster, but Hunter beats me to it. He scoops the first oyster off the tray and lifts it to my mouth. Dragging the end of the shell to the bottom of my lip, he dips the shell and I allow the slippery wetness to slide down my throat. Swallowing, I bring my hand to my throat stroking my passageway as if it were a very thick…well you know.

  Hunter gets my innuendo, if the hitch in his breath is any indication. He cuts me off by tossing the empty shell back onto the tray and picking up another. Placing it to my lips, he looks like he wants to say something. But he’s struggling. He doesn’t know whether to watch my mouth or my hand, which is still caressing the baseline of my neck.

  This time I save him the trouble and extend my neck, placing my lips around the casing. “You know you are asking for trouble right?” he warns me. Message received. Making sure our eyes are locked, and knowing I’ve got his full attention, with a naughty smirk, I suck. And bingo. Just as I swallow, he is on me. A deep growl sounds, his strong grip pulling me toward him as his lips crash onto mine. We connect with a rushing force, his tongue in a manic fight to claim the inside of my mouth. The sound of the waiter clearing his throat again interrupts our lust-induced haze.

  “Um. Excuse me, sir. The dessert—”

  “Jesus Christ William, your timing tonight is horrible!” he snaps as he pulls away from me. The waiter nods his quick apologies before he places the to-go bag on the table and scurries away. Bringing Hunter’s focus back to me, I explode into a fit of laughter.

  “I’m not sure I find your seductiveness funny. Nor does the strain in my pants,” he grumbles, looking a little less playf
ul and lot more uncomfortable.

  “I'm sorry,” I chuckle. “But your face. You resemble a wounded animal.”

  “Then you must know the effect kissing you has on a man. It’s like heaven and hell intertwined.”

  That shuts me up.

  “Not so funny now, is it? To tease a man who wants nothing more than to take you back to his penthouse and use this mousse to spread it across your smooth porcelain skin. Then, proceed to lick every single inch of the delectable chocolate off you.” His gaze breaks from mine again.

  Seriously pal? What are you a human orgasm dispenser? I swear my heart just skipped a beat as that line fell off his lips, landing straight on my vagina. My palms are instantly clammy and my mouth has become so dry I can’t seem to swallow for the life of me.

  “God, I don’t even think I can wait any longer. I need to touch you. To hell with our deal, I’m going to fuck you right here.” He jumps up from his chair as I practically fall back in mine. So much for the nervous unsure Hunter from earlier. Holy shit he looks super hungry. My face goes pale and I swear I’m going to pass out. Hunter eliminates the space between us and leans in to me. He stares directly into my eyes, a slow smile creeping across his face.

  And then he completely explodes with laughter.

  “Oh my God, you should see your face.” He pauses, holding his chest as it rises and falls. He turns back to me with his infectious smile spread across his face.

  “What?”

  “Oh man. You, my sweet Lexi, just resembled a scared little kitten.”

  Oh that little…

  “Isn’t nice to tease is it?” he jokes, calming his laughter.

  “You little shit.” I smack at his retreating shoulder. He sits back down leaning casually against his chair. The pleased smile he sports makes it hard to be mad at him. The times when he jokes are near and far, so I will give him a pass.

  Hunter sighs sitting forward in his chair. “I’m sorry. But you have to admit you deserved that.”

  “I may have, but you went a little overboard.”

  “You’re only saying that because I won. Although, I do have to admit that I am painfully hard and might have to jump in that cold fountain to relieve some of the ache in my crotch. But it was worth it.”

  I don’t reply because, dammit, he did get me. Lesson learned. I also may join him in that damn fountain. I cross my legs hoping it’s not obvious that I am suffering just as bad as he is.

  “I guess we should head back to your place then, huh?” I suggest, acting as cool as a cucumber.

  “I’m still not sleeping with you.” Dammit. This guy has willpower. At least one of us does. If that’s the case, its best we don’t go anywhere near his penthouse. Or any place that won’t get us arrested for indecent exposure.

  “Fine. Then let’s go out. A dance club it is!” I perk because I loooove a good dance party.

  Hunter immediately frowns. “No.”

  “What do you mean no? We’re in LA. They have the best dance clubs. It’ll be so much fun!”

  “You have to know how to dance to go to those places,” he mumbles quietly.

  I gawk at him. Hunter James doesn’t know how to dance? “You just danced with me not five minutes ago.”

  He scoffs. “That was slow dancing.”

  Oh my goodness. I don’t want him to think I am laughing at him, but I can’t help but smile. I grab for his hand and pull him up from his chair.

  “Well then Hunter James, it’s about time you learned.”

  I’M GOING TO MURDER someone. And it’s going to be the next person who ogles Lexi. I knew this was a bad idea. Too many people, not enough space, and the flux of raging testosterone that I knew was going to make my mood a violent one.

  Lexi is holding my hand while she drags me to the bar through this over packed club. The music is loud as hell and I’m getting agitated that she cannot hear me calling for her, so I can suggest we leave. We make it to the bar and Lexi wiggles her way into a spot. Tugging me with her, I bang shoulders with strangers, pissing me off further.

  “Hey, what do you want to drink?” she yells.

  “Nothing. Let’s get out of here,” I tell her, praying she will agree. Shaking her head and laughing was not the response I was hoping for.

  “Not a chance, James.” She smiles, which makes my dick twitch, and turns back to the bartender. She’s pushing herself halfway over the bar in order to get close enough for the guy to hear her, although she’s still shouting. My eyes run down her backside to find her long legs and luscious ass on (even more) display. Fuck, we have got to get out of here. I look around to make sure no one else is enjoying the view. I then hear her relay an order of two shots of tequila and two double vodka tonics.

  Gathering our drinks, she twists holding the two shots in her hand. Handing one out to me, she lifts hers up, waiting for me to follow. “Here’s to teaching you how to dance,” she states and before I even have a chance to reply, she clanks my shot and slams hers. I follow suit, feeling the burn slide down my throat. She takes the small glass from my hands and places them both on the bar. Grabbing our drinks she turns, handing me one. “All right. Let’s see what I’m working with.” Securing my free hand, she drags me into the sea of bodies.

  She doesn’t stop until we’re in the middle of the crowded dance floor. Fucking great. Some dark, hidden corner of the dance floor would have been preferable. The music is blaring and I’m fighting the urge to throw her over my shoulder and leave this madhouse. Already dancing to the music she spins facing me. “Isn’t this great?” she yells over the obnoxious sounds.

  “Far from it,” I grumble under my breath.

  “What was that?” she cups her ear trying to hear me. I want to tell her this isn’t great at all and force her to leave. But that smile on her face stops me. She looks so happy. As if she’s in her element. It’s a damn shame I am completely out of mine. I don’t do this. I don’t enjoy people, crowds, or loud music. I’m about to go mad with discomfort and force our departure, but then it would result in ridding that beautiful smile from her face. And that’s something I refuse to do.

  Lexi nudges me, snapping me from my strained thoughts. “You need to loosen up, James! Here.” She lifts the hand holding my drink and guides it to my mouth. “Slam it!” She begins sucking on her own straw, taking down the liquid in her glass. I watch her lips pucker and her throat moving as she inhales her cocktail. It enables me to do the same until my entire glass is empty.

  “There ya go! Feel better?” The liquid is helping coat my nerves, so I nod minimally.

  “Great! Okay. Let’s see what you got.” Grabbing for my empty glass she turns and places them both on a speaker ledge. Returning, she leisurely enters my personal space, wrapping her arms around my lower waist.

  “Relax, James. This is supposed to be fun, not torture.” How is having her body up against me not torture? I hate myself for making that damn deal. I just want to flip her around and bend her over that speaker and fuck her senseless. I want to wrap her long silky hair around my fist and pull her head back just enough so I can take my mouth to her neck and bruise her perfect skin. Her grip around me tightens and she guides my hips back and forth while she positions her thighs in-between mine.

  Jesus Christ she is going to kill me.

  I can’t help myself. My hands go up and brush her hair off her shoulder blade. Her skin poking through is just another torment for me and I need to taste her. The music in that moment picks up and Lexi separates herself from me, making me miss my opportunity. She is all over the place, bouncing and bringing her hands into her hair and dancing to the quick beats. I catch her wave at someone behind me and I turn wondering who she might possibly know. Then I see the waitress holding a colorful assortment of tubes coming our way.

  “Hey, can we get six of those?”

  Six? Jesus, “Lexi, we don’t need—”

  “Hush it, James. Until you loosen up, I’m going to keep feeding you. Now open up.” She beams wh
ile picking two blue, two green and a two skeptical pink liquor filled tubes. After she insists on paying, she places one between my fingers and loops her hand through my arm. She positions herself so we are now arm locked. “Ready?” She smiles and instructs me to feed her my shot, while she feeds me hers. The first one goes down smoothly. A tart taste of blue raspberry. She maneuvers again placing another shot in my hands and we repeat. This one I fight to gag, green apple burning down my throat. Watermelon fills my mouth as we down the third shot.

  “Those are horrible.” I cover my mouth and cough as we unlock ourselves from one another.

  Lexi laughs, tossing the empty tubes in the nearest trash. “At least now we can say we got in our daily fruit consumption. Now, let’s try this again.” She tugs on my arm and I almost tumble into her. She positions herself back in-between my legs as she attempts to guide my hips. The music has a fast beat to it so I’m struggling to keep up with her, my movements far from smooth.

  It doesn’t escape me that we skipped dinner and the shots, on top of all the other drinks we have consumed tonight, are catching up to me. I look at Lexi and her cheeks are already flushed, her eyes a light gloss to them.

  “We should eat something,” I yell to her over the music, suggesting we find a quiet café so we can talk. She slowly yet seductively shakes her head at me. “I will order extra olives in my next drink.” She smiles and turns offering me her back. God this woman.