Fake (West Hollywood #1) Read Online Kylie Scott

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: West Hollywood Series by Kylie Scott
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Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69973 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
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“I know, thank you. But I’d rather do this on my own.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I’d want to be a part of sales and ordering. Not straight away, obviously. But moving in that direction.”

Zena nodded. “Of course. So you’re serious about this?”

“Yeah.” I smiled. “I am. And depending on what amount you have in mind, this is something I’m able to do. So long as you’re sure?”

She took a sip of her martini, watching me over the rim of her glass. “Excuse me while I get nosy for a moment, but it’s required. How is this going to work with your new fancy lifestyle? If Patrick disappears for months on end to make a movie are you planning on following him?”

My mouth opened and nothing came out. Because that was an excellent question. We hadn’t talked about the future in the two or so seconds we’d been together. The present seemed precarious enough. Patrick watched me carefully. No doubt waiting to hear what I’d say. Talk about pressure. But while he meant a lot to me, I needed to have my own life. A purpose beyond wearing nice clothes and getting my hair and nails done. Otherwise, how long would it be before we both grew bored? Before he saw me as being no better than any of the other fame and money vultures who hung around town?

“No,” I said, finally. “It’s been a long time since I had the opportunity to do something more. I won’t throw that away.”

Zena nodded.

“Though I wouldn’t mind visiting you on set now and then, if you’ll have me.”

Patrick’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Definitely.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“What?” Patrick threw back the blanket and pushed the pillows up against the padded headboard. “What are you talking about?”

Zena left half an hour ago and Jack had disappeared off to wherever Jack usually disappeared to. Probably off visiting Cole at his club.

I stood at the foot of the bed, battling with my belt buckle. A certain number of martinis apparently messed with my fingers. Oops. “When Zena asked if I planned to follow you around and I said no. But then I said I would very much like to visit you on set.”

“And?”

“Your smile was fake, Paddy.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Oh my God. You just lied to me again.”

“Allow me, drunky girl.” He pushed my hands aside and made short work of the belt and the stud and zipper beneath. Then he dragged the jeans down my legs.

I set a hand on his shoulder so I didn’t lose my balance and land on my ass during the de-pantsing. How embarrassing. “Tell me what you were really thinking.”

“I was thinking that partnering with Zena sounded like a good opportunity,” he said.

“Tell me what you were thinking about you and me.”

He stood tall, gazing down at me. “Norah.”

“Paddy.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking now.” He filled his hands with a butt cheek each. The butt being mine. Then he squeezed. “How do you feel about doing it doggy style?”

“Are you suggesting it because you don’t want to have to look me in the face and talk to me?”

“No. I’m suggesting it because I like your ass. A lot.”

“That’s sweet. Get on the bed.” I set my hands against his bare chest and pushed until he gave in and flopped back onto the mattress. Such a beautiful sight. I crawled on after him, sitting astride his hips. One of my personal favorite places to be. “We never discussed the inevitable likelihood of this, at times, being a long-distance relationship. Of course, we never even discussed us having a future before today.”

“Things are moving fast,” he said, and he didn’t appear happy about it.

“Yes, they are.”

With his hands fastened to my thighs, he sighed. “Guess I just figured we’d be together. Whatever that involved. But I understand that you don’t want to be my shadow.”

“To the contrary, I would love to be your shadow. I can think of nothing better than following you around all day.”

“But you’re not going to.”

“No,” I said. “I’m not. And I’ll miss you like crazy. But even though I’d rather cling to you like a limpet, I believe we need to be fully functioning adults independent of each other for this to work.”

“That’s very mature of you,” he said with a frown.

“Is that really all you’re going to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Males. Seriously. Maybe I hadn’t consumed enough alcohol for this conversation after all. “I want you to be brave and open up to me a little.”

Next his hands grabbed the hem of my shirt, working it up and over my head, before starting in on my bra. And he grumbled all the while. “How is this even relevant when I don’t have any jobs lined up?”

“But you will. You’re still getting offers, aren’t you?”

“Nothing I want to do.”


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