Home > Fake Fiancée(11)

Fake Fiancée(11)
Author: Ilsa Madden-Mills

I leaned down and kissed her. She tasted like honey and sugar, and I wanted more—but not with her standing like an android, hands limp at her side.

I ran my nose up her neck and licked the tiny heart-shaped birthmark on her lobe, making her shiver. “Kiss me, Blondie.”

“Rule number one: don’t call me Blondie. It’s unimaginative, plus it was Bart’s thing.”

“Done.” I cupped her face and took her mouth again, this time more insistent, sweeping my tongue inside to explore her—but Bart’s face loomed in my head. I barely knew him, and the cheating boyfriend story wasn’t a new one in the college scene, but something about the vulnerability in her eyes made me angry.

She brushed her tongue against mine, her hand going to my waist and tugging me closer.

I forgot about Bart.

Shit. I forgot everything.

Heat went all over me.

Our hips gravitated toward each other as if we’d done this before, and what had started out as a first date kind of kiss turned into something else entirely. My hand slid into her hair to get a better angle, deepening the kiss until it was a full on make-out session. I hitched her leg up until it curled around my hips. She moaned, her hands sliding down to squeeze my ass. My skin sizzled, and my cock hardened, ready to—

The elevator door opened on our floor, but our lips stayed fused as my hand kept the door from shutting on us. I wanted everyone to see this. I pressed one more kiss to her swollen lips and eased back. Her gaze was low and heavy. Mine had to be the same. If I had my choice, we’d march out of this elevator, find a corner in a dark classroom, and fuck each other’s brains out.

It was tempting.

But I couldn’t. Not with my neighbor. It was bad to mix pleasure with girls who lived next door. Only an idiot would do that.

She let out a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling. “Don’t . . . do that . . . again.”

“I won’t.” I totally would—hypocrite that I was.

I laced our fingers together and escorted her out of the elevator.

Several people with raised eyebrows watched us as we exited the elevator, cruised down the hall, and entered Dr. Whitt’s class. A couple of guys nodded at me, their eyes following Sunny as we passed. A few sent me appreciative nods.

She’s mine. Keep your hands off.

“Wait.” I got out my phone and pulled her off to the side. “We need a pic to commemorate our one day affair.”

She winced. “I look like I’m ready for bed, and I didn’t even get to straighten my hair—”

How could she not know how lovely she was? “You’re gorgeous, Sunny. Say it.”

“You’re gorgeous, Sunny,” she deadpanned.

“Come on, say it like you mean it.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not true. I’m a six, maybe a seven when I put on eyeliner, maybe an eight if I use a push-up bra.”

I sent her a grin. “We’re not going to class until you say it.”

“I’m gorgeous,” she snapped. “Happy?”

“Yep. Now smile.” I held the phone up for a selfie, licked her on the cheek and snapped the pic. Boom. “Once I lick you, you’re mine,” I said softly.

Her cheeks pinked, and I knew where her mind went. I pushed that thought away and sent the pic to all my social media accounts. Let the groupies get a look at that. Maybe they’d leave me alone for a week or so.

A few seconds later, we bumped into Bianca.

I’d at least expected to find a seat before the drama started.

She saw me and lit up like a Christmas tree. Petite with huge boobs and a tight ass, she was the kind of girl who demanded you look at her. The low-cut clothes she wore, the bright red lipstick, the way she raked her cat-like eyes over you like she wanted to eat you, all of it added up to a chick that craved attention and got it. Her exotic, flowery scent slammed into me, and I felt my body tensing, remembering how my sheets had smelled like her for weeks even after I’d washed them.

I glanced over her shoulder for Felix. Fucker wasn’t there. Guess he wasn’t taking this class.

She smiled, her brown gaze refusing to leave mine, one of the tactics she used to ignore the girls I was with. “Long time no see. How was your summer?”

“Awesome. How’s Felix?” My voice was sharp.

“Fine,” she said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “Uh, maybe we can talk after class. I have a lot to tell you.”

“No thanks.”

She sighed, her hand dropping down to rest across her chest as a wounded expression flitted across her face. “Okay. I deserve that, but you have to forgive me someday. Please. I’m sorry for . . . everything.”

Everything? She’d tried to trap me into marrying her.

Someone bumped into me to get to a seat, and I looked around, realizing we’d been stopped too long and were impeding the traffic. Other students sidestepped around us to get to their seats.

Shit, shit, shit. I wasn’t handling this well. I should be the first one to walk away. I should—

Sunny wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned into me. She couldn’t make it any plainer that I was hers. I relaxed.

“I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Sunny, Max’s new . . .” she stumbled a bit, but managed to push out, “girlfriend.”

“Bianca,” she retorted, “his ex-girlfriend.” She turned back to me, her eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize you were dating someone.”

   
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