East

EAST

“So will you pretend to have sex with me?”

“Excuse me?” I asked. The bar was loud enough where I thought she’d just asked me to pretend to have sex with her. This woman, in a flirty dress, jean jacket, and cowboy boots, was looking up at me with an equal mix of embarrassment and interest.

Even in the dim lighting, I couldn’t miss the hot flush to her cheeks. It was costing her to speak with me. She wasn’t out on the prowl. She wasn’t touching me, leaning and pressing her tits into my arm. Batting fake eyelashes. Offering a BJ. Wanting me to go home with her.

None of that.

She was gorgeous and I didn’t miss the way men looked at her. They took in her curvy frame, her shapely legs and tits that would spill over any man’s palms.

I got hard getting a good downward glimpse of those full swells.

I leaned down—she was at least six inches shorter—and spoke into her ear so she could hear me over the crowd that Monday night football brought in. I picked up hints of lemon over the tang of beer and hot wings. “You want me to pretend to have sex with you? That’s not remotely possible.”

I couldn’t help the way my mouth turned up in a smile because her request was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. And yet she was refreshing. Natural. Real.

She was actually serious. After the shit with Macon over the summer, his wake and the discovery that the asshole who’d made my life hell might not even be my father, I was jaded. Worse than that. Fucked up, for sure. I wasn’t used to someone so blatantly open and… guileless.

I grew up in a household of hatred and secrets. Of stoicism and damaged souls. Of threats and deals. Why she’d chosen me, I had no idea.

She closed her eyes for a moment, those red lashes fanning across her cheeks. “Yeah, nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

She spun on her heel and the hem of her dress swirled offering me—and every asshole in the place—the hope of seeing what color panties she wore. No luck though since it only rode to mid-thigh, but it still made me wonder.

I hooked her arm. No way was I letting her walk away. “Hold up, doll.”

She turned to face me, her chin tipped up again. I didn’t let go of my hold. Knowing now that she would bolt like a wild mustang, I needed to work this a little differently.

She huffed and yeah, I was as hard as a rock.

“Explain.”

“I’m not an idiot, even though it may seem that way. My roommates are in the booth in the corner… no, don’t look,” she warned, giving her head a little shake. “It’s my birthday and as a present, they think I should get laid. A bathroom quickie or whatever. It’s not my thing but if I don’t do it, they’re going to pick a guy for me.”

The idea of this hot little thing lifting her dress for some rando—besides me—made me angry. No fucking way was she or her friends propositioning someone else. Just looking at her I knew she’d never done this before.

“Your friends are making you pick out your own guy, approach him and ask him to fuck you. They aren’t working too hard on that present. On top of that it’s fucking dangerous,” I said.

“I know,” she admitted, then sighed. “Seriously, I know. That’s why I wasn’t going to do it. Just pretend so they’d let it go. Hopefully forever.”