Reluctantly Yours(61)

“’May the odds be ever in your favor,’” I say dramatically.

“How does that apply here?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to say it.” I shrug. Let a girl have her moment. “Okay, truth or dare.”

“Truth,” he says.

“What’s up with the ladder?”

“What do you mean?” The material of his shirt grows taut as he retreats.

“You had a reaction to me being on it and while I know you were upset about me dancing with Ryan Shaw, it seemed like more than that.”

Barrett takes a deep breath in; his eyes drop to his feet before he meets my gaze again.

“I don’t like heights.”

“You’re afraid of heights?!” My voice rises, mainly due to disbelief.

Barrett narrows his eyes at me.

“Sorry.”

I nod for him to continue.

“Even something as simple as a ladder gives me anxiety. I’ve learned to manage it, avoid things that trigger it.”

“Do you fly?”

“With the window closed.”

“What about tall buildings?”

“You won’t find me with my nose pressed to the window.”

“That’s fascinating.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were the kind of guy that isn’t afraid of anything.”

“You thought wrong.” He studies me for a moment. “My turn.”

Ah, yes. I forgot about that part.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

“Option C. We make out.” I lick my lips and Barrett’s eyes drop to my mouth. Where’s a ‘who can kiss their sexy fake boyfriend the longest’ contest when you need one? “Fred may have spies in the bushes. We should make it convincing.”

We’re so close now, we’re breathing the same air.

He swerves at the last minute and his lips brush along my jaw.

“You’re such a tease,” I say.

“You wanted to play this game.”

“That was before I realized I’d have to participate,” I whine.

“Okay. We don’t have to play.” Barrett shrugs and I think I’ve gotten off easy. He places those hands of his, the same ones that were wrapped around his hard length in the shower this morning, on either side of my hips. He must be a mind reader. “Let’s talk about this morning.”

“Of what are you referring to?” I ask like I haven’t been thinking about it all day.

“You watching me in the shower.”

I can feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up my spine, but then I remember that Barrett stood full stop in the bathroom watching me get myself off in the bathtub and I didn’t give him shit about it.

“That sounds creepy. I didn’t have binoculars or anything. Not that I would have needed them to see that monster—” I stop myself short, but that doesn’t prevent my eyes from dropping to Barrett’s crotch. I finally manage to close my eyes and look away because they’re traitorous and I can no longer trust them to behave. “It seems we’re even now, wouldn’t you say?”

“For me watching you in the bathtub.”

I nod.

“Apparently we’re just two creeps who don’t knock.”

“Chloe.” Barrett’s voice draws my attention back to him. I’ve never heard him say my name that way before. There’s no anger or annoyance, it’s more resolve and curiosity with a dash of reverence. I like it and now I can’t look anywhere but at him.

“My turn,” I say.

“I thought we were done playing.”

“It’s my game. I make the rules.” I have to get this game back on track. It’s dangerously close to Make Chloe Squirm. Somehow everything Barrett does leads back to that.

I don’t even have to think about what I want to ask him. It’s been on the tip of my tongue all day and since he brought it up, I have to ask.

“When you were in the shower this morning, you know,” I clear my throat, “what were you thinking about?”

Barrett doesn’t hesitate either.

“You.”

He says it matter of fact, taking a drink of his wine like he didn’t just throw a stick of dynamite in my underwear.

“That’s interesting. I have so many questions.”

Barrett grins. “Back to my question.”

“Did you have a question? I don’t recall.”

He lowers his face closer to mine, puffs of air from his words caress the shell of my ear.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

The air rushes out of me with a heavy sigh.

“Did you like what you saw? Me fucking my hand while I imagined it was your pretty mouth? Filling your sweet cunt with my cock?”

My legs tremble with his words.

“Barrett.” I can’t help that it comes out almost like a moan.

The sky is dark now. The strings of white lights hung across the seating area and yard provide a warm glow. Soft jazz music plays from the outdoor speakers, interrupted only by the laughter from two couples playing bean bags yards away, when a wild throw lands in the bocce ball area. Meanwhile Barrett’s filthy mouth has soaked my panties.

He's waiting for a response. This is the moment in any other interaction with a guy that I would cut and run. But it’s not possible to run from Barrett. He’s my fake boyfriend for another month. I’ll have to see him again. That and he’s got me boxed in right now so there is literally no escaping.