The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(57)

"Great, cool, nice. Lovely place," Gwen said, backing off and pulling the door shut.

Aiden picked up on her state of mind. He'd made something of an annoying habit of that. "Everything fine? You keep looking... I don't know... Disappointed? Frustrated?"

"It's nothing. Like I said, I just pictured the place differently. I guess the way you imagine something and the way it turns out to really be rarely line up."

"What did you imagine?" Aiden said, genuinely curious. He turned and walked back into the living room, clearly expecting her to follow him. She did. He sat on the couch, and Gwen followed suit.

"It's silly," she said, wishing he would just drop it. His annoying insistence on knowing kept bringing back more details of that dream. And what was worse, her mind, in some ill-guided attempt to be helpful, began replacing the dream apartment in the fantasy with the real one!

"It's not silly," Aiden said, "If we're going to pull this off, we really should at least seem as though we're comfortable around each other. Okay... I'll go first. I can't stop stealing glances at you in that dress."

Instantly, Gwen felt self-conscious. She did a quick check, looking for stray threads, or anything that might not pass muster.

Aiden shook his head, once more grasping her confusion, "No, there's nothing wrong with it. Just the opposite, really. You look really good in it. Everyone at the track noticed, too. Liam, especially. I have to admit, it got my blood boiling a bit when I kept catching him checking you out."


That was news to her. Aiden was jealous! And wasn't there really only one good reason for a man to get jealous over a woman? You don't feel jealousy over somewhat you don't like.

"Why, Aiden, if I didn't know better, I'd say that you're feeling something for me beyond your obligations in the contract."

Gwen glanced down and saw how close their hands were on the couch cushions. Only a small move would be required for them to touch. She wondered if she should. Or if he thought the same thing.

Aiden didn't say anything for a few seconds. "You're trying to change the subject," he said finally, "It's your turn. Tell me how you thought of my place before you saw it in real life."

You're the one changing the subject, not me, Gwen thought. A sensation of amused frustration bubbled up within her. Why was he still bothering to play this game? Any time she got close to making him admit some sort of real affection for her, he backed away, shut her down. And she could tell that he knew it, too. How much more resistance could he possibly put up?

In any case, she would play along with his little game. "I dunno... Concrete floors, modern art. Lots of funny-shaped European furniture, that sort of thing."

Aiden glanced around the living room, taking in the black and white prints on the walls, the serviceable couch, the plain rectangular coffee table.

"Well then, maybe it's time for some renovations. I have had my eye on some abstract sculptures. And what do you think of a teardrop-shaped coffee table and a semi-circular couch?"

"I think that it's a good thing you didn't become an interior designer," Gwen said.

The place was different than she imagined, but it was also better. This just worked. All the pieces served a real purpose without also being garish or gaudy. The place felt welcoming rather than imposing. It was the sort of place you could actually call home, to retreat to after running the rat race all day at the office.

They shared a laugh. And, without either of them really realizing it, their hands slid closer until their fingers overlapped. Neither moved to take them away.

The moment of lighthearted fun changed, then. They looked at each other. Gwen's heart started slamming in her chest, and she swallowed heavily. Aiden looked into her eyes, and kept glancing down at her lips.

She scooted closer to him, their thighs touching now. This close, she could smell his aftershave.

"Gwen..." he said, his voice quiet and low. He still hadn't stopped holding her hand. He still kept glancing down at her lips.

But Gwen didn't reply. She knew that he knew what he wanted. Why didn't he just take it? It was his for the taking. And she could practically feel the desire pulsing deep inside him, trying to match the need she experienced.

Slowly, he lifted his other hand, letting it trail up her arm. Gooseflesh prickled in the paths traced by his fingertips. He touched her shoulder for a moment, at that spot where it met her neck. Then he lightly traced the outline of her jaw and her chin.

The lightness of the touch only magnified what Gwen felt. Her skin, her nerves picked up every little signal. Her body begged for more, begged for greater pressure, more contact. But he didn't stop the tender teasing of his fingers.

The pad of his thumb brushed her cheek, then moved closer to her lips. He traced those as well.

Gwen's eyelids began drifting shut. Aiden's thumb came to rest lightly on her chin. With a tiny amount of pressure, he parted her lips slightly. She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, could feel him leaning in closer.

Their lips touched so gently at first she barely felt it. His were moist and soft on hers. Her head tilted back, and she was lucky the couch cushion was right there to catch it. Aiden didn't let up, though. His fingers slipped into her hair, threading their way through. He made a fist, tugging lightly at the roots.

Her mouth opened more, their breaths mingling. Aiden tasted sweet.