The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(25)

"You don't have to be so convincing. He can't see us that well from here," Aiden said.

She realized that he meant the way she looked up at him. The moment was gone, the spell broken, all those things. She wanted to push him away.

Then he leaned in and kissed her again. It was just like before. Electric, that is. Like their bodies completed a circuit.

Damn you, knees! she thought as they again turned into two loose rubber bands barely able to hold her up, her body not supporting her in her frustration with him.

She'd just wrapped one arm around his waist, her other hand on the back of his head, feeling the soft strands of his hair between her fingers, when he ended it. She worked her jaw, glancing around, trying to look anywhere but at him. For being a jerk, he was a good kisser. He slipped out of her arms and shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his thumbs hooking on the outside. He turned to go.

"Good night. And Gwen?" he said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yes?" she said.

"Read over the contract, will you? It's important."

"Oh, yeah. Right." Her shoulders slumped. She wrenched the door open and searched for her key, her movements rapid and jerky with anger.

What were you expecting? she scolded herself. Did you expect him to ask if he could come upstairs with you or something?

She finally found her keys. The whole way up in the elevator, and then back in the dark entrance hall of her apartment, she could still feel Aiden. The scent of his cologne followed her, as well as some impression of his presence.

It was only when she turned on the hall light that she saw she still wore his jacket around her shoulders.

Why didn't he ask for it back? He must have seen it on me this whole time, she thought. She took it off and started to hang it up on the rack beside the door. Then, without really thinking, she brought it close to her face and smelled it.

Yep, that's his cologne all right. It was light and understated. She breathed it in again, holding the scent before letting the air rush from her lungs.

"He's not your real boyfriend," she said, feeling stupid for smelling his equally stupid jacket. She tossed it up onto the rack, resolving to give it back to him when next they met.

The exhaustion hit her, then. This had to be one of the longest days of her life.

Gwen locked the door behind her and walked to her room, kicking her shoes off on the way. She barely had the energy to unzip the dress and step out of it as it fell around her feet.

She went to sleep intending to not wake up until lunch the next day.

And she couldn't shake the scent of Aiden's cologne. It followed her into sleep.





Chapter 10


Gwen found herself walking down the polished concrete floor of a posh condo. It was both familiar and alien. She'd been there many times, she felt. But she didn't have any recollection of any such visits.


Pieces of modern art hung from the walls, which were cream-colored. They caught and held the light pouring in through the bank of windows along the wall in the room she could see to her right. The park appeared in that window, all the buildings pressing in closely along its rectangular border.

She touched the wall, felt the texture of the paint beneath her fingertips. She became aware of how cold that concrete floor left her feet, and she looked down. Her feet were bare. As were her calves, her thighs. And everything above that.

Suddenly self-conscious of her nakedness, she searched for some sort of cover. A robe, a towel. Even a tablecloth would do.

She reached out for the polished latch of the door that appeared in front of her. But before she could open it, it swung inward. Not of its own accord, however.

Steam spilled out of the room in great roiling clouds that swirled back in on themselves as they touched the colder air outside the bathroom and recoiled from it.

And standing there, using a beige towel to dry himself, was Aiden. He, too, was naked. She looked down, unable to help herself. Her eyes widened. Very naked.

"Hey, babe," he said, grinning at her.

That's weird, she thought. I've never seen him grin like that before. She also thought he should do it more; he had nice teeth. They set off his eyes.

Despite his toweling, little rivulets of hot water dripped from him onto the tile floor of the bathroom. The droplets of water ran down his chest, between the little clefts in his abdominal muscles, all the way down...

Oh, I'm looking again, she thought, her whole body flushing as she dragged her eyes back up to his face. It wasn't easy. He looked pretty fine, naked.

And his hair looked just perfect in its chaos, too. Like he'd run the towel through it just to achieve that specific effect.

"Hey, yourself," she said.

Then his eyes slid down her body. In her shock at seeing him, she'd forgotten her own clothing situation. Or lack thereof.

"Turn around!" she said. More like shrieked in embarrassment, actually. Her hands went to the areas that most needed it, doing their best to cover things up but not quite managing.

Why is he looking at me like that? I thought I wasn't his type? she thought. Rather than averting his gaze like she'd so politely asked, he continued looking. That grin of his grew wider, almost wolfish in the way it showed his teeth.

"Why so bashful all of a sudden?" he said.

"Why am I naked?" she replied, "Where are my clothes? Did you take them?"