Pretending He's Mine by Lauren Blakely

acquaintances. Fine, he was an acquaintance who hit notes on her body that had never been played before. He’d gone down on her the night before and delivered two out-of-this-world orgasms that made her feel as if the sun and moon and solar system were rotating around her, that the sheer wattage of pleasure he’d given her with his mouth and tongue and lips could power the universe.
    Still, she’d simply have to tuck him into the faraway corner of her brain after tonight. But his prowess with her body wasn’t the most unjust part of this whole week. The real rub was this—he was sweet, and he was good, and he could keep up with her. He was his own man, with his own opinions, and he wasn’t afraid of a thing. There were times when he seemed to genuinely care for her, and there were times when he touched her in a way that went beyond the intense charge between them. The way he’d kissed her on the library steps with a kind of reverence, as if he’d missed her. And the way he’d laid her down on her bed and spread her legs as if he were hungry for her, not just her body, but her.
    She waved her hand in front of her face, as if she could rid herself of these ludicrous notions, then she appraised herself one last time in the mirror. She had on a pretty dove gray dress with long sleeves and a hemline that hit just above the knees. Then her black leather boots, and a single silver bracelet on her right wrist. She’d pinned her hair up as usual, and she wore her glasses, her twin efforts to look twenty-eight, rather than the twenty-one she was often mistaken for. She looked sophisticated and sharp, and when the town car arrived with Reeve already in the back seat, so handsome in his charcoal slacks, green button down, and a tie, she felt a surge of happiness at seeing her boyfriend.
    Then she remembered he was only her pretend boyfriend, so she tamped it down. “You look very nice,” she said to him.
    “As do you. And look,” he said tipping his forehead to a plate on the seat next to him, full of chocolate chip cookies covered in saran wrap. “Remember I told her in your office I made great chocolate chip cookies?”
    Sutton beamed. “You are the perfect boyfriend.”
    “And I have something for you,” he added.
    She raised an eyebrow curiously, as he removed from his pocket a small velvet pouch, then reached inside. Something sparkled in his hand, and it looked almost like a diamond. Her eyes widened, and she let that joyful feeling return. She did love shiny objects.
    “It’s just a little something. It’s not a real diamond, and I’m not trying to claim it’s real, but I thought we could pretend it’s a placeholder ring while you get yours resized.” He held the ring in his palm and with his other hand, he reached for her.
    Her heart skipped a beat as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Oh, Reeve. I love it. How did you get it? It fits perfectly.”
    He shrugged sheepishly. “I’m actually pretty good with sizes. It’s this strange hidden talent of mine. And my friend Jill’s roommate is a jewelry designer, so she knocked this out for us.”
    “This is ridiculously perfect,” she said, and placed her bejeweled hand on the back of his head and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
    A fake kiss, of course. It was only a fake kiss to get her in the right mindset. But the way he lingered softly, the way he sighed happily, made it feel real.
    Then she settled back in the leather seat and they said little more on the short drive to the penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue. They didn’t say much on the elevator either. She knocked on the door, and Janelle answered.
    “Good to see you,” Janelle said, letting the tiniest sliver of a smile slip across her slick red lips. Janelle wore a maroon dress with a high neck and for moment Sutton wondered if Janelle was hiding hickeys. Then, she remembered that Janelle had supposedly cut Frederick off til he proved he could keep it in his pants. But rather than ruminate