Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Twenty-Five

Eliza

I mentionedthat I hate mornings, right?

Flinching at the deep ache in my thigh muscles, I squint against the early sunlight. Actually, I hurt all over. I feel like I spent the night mud wrestling a warthog.

My fingertips graze over the pain points on my neck and chest.

Hickies? Definitely hickies.

Or vampire bites, maybe? Because that would explain why I’m suddenly not able to handle even a teensy bit of light.

Seriously, how can it be morning already?

When the warm body beside me shifts beneath the sheets and grumbles something inaudible, I twist around for a look at him.

On the bright side, it turns out my bed buddy is not in fact a warthog. It’s a handsome, six-foot-something billionaire frowning in his sleep.

I’m in Liam’s room. Again.

I risk a peek under the crisp white comforter that’s covering us both. This time, there’s two naked bodies beneath.

Mine and his.

I groan out loud when memories start flooding in. Vivid memories. Lots of them. Memories that each deserve their own triple-X webpage.

Hol-ee shit.

My chest beats double-time, blasting me into a reality that I’m not prepared to handle. I did the freaky with Liam Kline. My fake husband. My boss.

My fingertips flutter across my gaping lips. “Oh my god…”

His granite eyes flash open. Bright and alert. “You can just call me ‘Liam’, Wifey,” the infuriating man mumbles in his morning voice.

So arrogant.

My eyeballs roll in their sockets. I should smother him with a pillow.

By the time my eyes stop spinning, I find that he’s already climbing out of bed, fully nude, flashing me the best man butt I’ve ever seen.

But seriously, who just opens their eyes and jumps out of bed like that? Vampires, that’s who.

He’s casually grabbing workout clothes out of a dresser and covering up his perfect body.

I’ve always found my boss to be sexy. But he was the kind of sexy that jumps out of your birthday cake in front of all your friends and family. You can look, but you can’t touch. You just stand there nibbling on your lip, until someone mistakes your drool for wanting a slice of dessert.

That’s changed now.

I’ve jumped head first into that sweet, sweet cake and I’ve tasted and touched…and what the hell was I saying? I’m not sure where I was headed with that one, but man, he has an amazing body. And the worst part? I’m pretty sure he knows it.

His eyes sweep me up and down like he wants to get me completely naked, too. The way that he’s looking at me. Jeez. That ravaging, bloodthirsty glint in his eyes. I swear I see fangs when he chews on the corner of his plush bottom lip.

I touch my tender neck again. Yup, definitely vampire bites. “Fucking hell…” I moan.

He sighs with annoyance. “Is this the part where you’re going to start freaking out at the fact that we had sex last night? Don’t be such a cliché, Eliza.” He stalks out of the bedroom.

How is he not freaking out?

Wrapped up in the bed sheets, I climb off the mattress and follow him into the living room.

Is that my shredded bra lying on the floor beneath the conference table? Cheeks blazing, I squeeze between the ergonomic chairs and hunker down to snatch it up.

“This is inappropriate on so many levels. You're my boss. And my fake husband.” With an iron grip, I hold my mangled bra clasped over my chest.

Liam arches a thick eyebrow as he stalks over to where a fresh breakfast tray is already waiting for him in the kitchenette. “You didn't seem to find it inappropriate when you were trying to rip open my four hundred dollar shirt on the conference room table last night.” He frowns into his coffee cup. “I really liked that shirt, dammit.”

He’s not wrong though. That shirt looked really good on him.

I follow his gaze to the expensive puddle of wrecked fabric on the floor. Next to the wine stain. On the bazillion dollar rug.

Crap. If he starts docking damaged items off my paychecks, I’ll be putting in free labor well into the afterlife to reimburse him.

Liam gives a casual shrug. “Then again, what’s a few shredded sheets and broken bed frames between newly-weds, right?”

When I glance down at my hand, I’m nearly blinded by the glittery-ness of the diamond-crusted wedding band strangling my ring finger.

Again, crap!

And side-note; not to deflect responsibility for last night’s behaviour or anything, but for a billionaire, he really should have stronger sheets and sturdier furniture.

I normally try to conduct myself with dignity and grace. Like a lady. But last night was my shit-hit-the-fan moment. Because a girl can only take so much before her self-control snaps.

Loneliness makes people do stupid things.

“Help yourself to breakfast.” He snatches a bagel off the tray. “I have to get a workout in before I head to the office.” Then he saunters across the room and tears open the hotel door.

The office? “It’s Saturday.” What a workaholic.

“Oh, good. You know the days of the week. That’s certainly an upgrade from the last assistant I had.” He frowns to himself as if reliving a painful memory. “Crayon-loving idiot.”

God, it’s going to be so weird facing my co-workers again. And when they find out that I’m tied to our boss by the bonds of holy matrimony, the levers of the office gossip mill will start churning on overdrive.

From the front door, Liam pauses. “Look, I don’t need any more complications. I’ve already got enough of those. So if you don’t want to fuck again, we won’t fuck again. We’ll just keep our distance. Simple as that.”

“Fine.” I nod firmly.

Liam gives me one final, searing glance then he slips out the door.

But as his words begin to settle, I’m realizing that ‘distance’ is not what I want at all. I want the closeness I felt with him, I want the connection, and I definitely want the orgasms. The problem is, I know fully well that it’s wrong. I’m so conflicted.

I drop onto the arm of the couch and cover my face with my hands.

Shit. How did my life become such a mess?