Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I halt a respectful distance in front of him, the wind teasing my nostrils with his familiar earthy scent and doing nothing to aid my efforts to chide him. “What are you doing?” I hiss, angry now, too.
He shackles my waist, and he tugs me into him, our legs intimately aligned.
“Making sure he knows you’re mine,” he answers boldly, a slight splay to his fingers.
It’s all I can do not to touch him and add to the story any watchful eye is already writing about us. “You do realize we are all over the internet, and my producer wants to talk about us on air?”
“I don’t care who knows, Alana. It’s inevitable. We live together now. You’re wearing my ring.”
A not-so-nice feeling rips through my chest, right where my heart is. I forgot. The engagement show hasn’t ended. He reads me instantly and cups my head. “Alana, baby, it’s not fake.”
My fingers curl into my palms, one on my purse and the other by my side. “Isn’t it?”
“You’re the most real thing in my life, Alana.” His voice is low, roughened up. “Let’s get inside the SUV.” He pushes off the car and holds the door open for me, but I’m still living inside his words. I’m the most real thing in his life, and I’m still his fake fiancée, and I’m on display for the world to see. With this biting knowledge, I get in the SUV.
Chapter twenty-two
My throat is raw with emotions as I settle against the soft leather of the seat, reminding myself that we are not fake. I am moving in with him. That’s as real as it gets. I’m simply sensitive to this “fake” game we played after a lifetime of push and pull between us.
Damion joins me, shutting us inside. “We’re ready,” he calls out to the driver, his hand settling on my leg. “Have you ever been to Kristie’s?”
That’s it? Have I ever been to Kristie’s? Really? I twist around and bring him into view, and I open my mouth to confront him, but then zip my lips. I’m aware of the driver, of the fact we are not alone, and anything I say to Damion could easily become fodder for the press as easily as it could standing beside the SUV outside.
He arches a brow.
I face forward again and fold my arms in front of me. “I heard it’s fabulous. And close.”
He captures my leg and drags me closer, his arm settling around me. “Don’t be angry,” he murmurs softly, his voice a seductive purr, “though my behavior is wholly your fault. You make me that crazy.”
“I make you crazy?” I challenge, my voice low and filled with accusation. “As my mother would say: pot, kettle.”
He laughs, and it’s sexy and warm, as if we aren’t even fighting right now. As if all of this amuses him. I reach over and press my hand to his leg, my fingers pressing deep. “That was not good what you did back there.”
He covers my hand with his. “Just like old times, isn’t it? Me misbehaving and you putting me in my place.”
“That’s not a good thing either.”
Already, the driver is halting beside the restaurant, and Damion stuns me by catching me to him, cupping my head, and kissing me with a deep slide of his tongue that leaves me breathless and panting. “Everything about us is good, Alana,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking lipstick from my bottom lip.
My fingers curl on his lapels. “We’re going to talk about what just happened.”
He catches my fingers with his. “I staked my claim, and I will do it over and over again until everyone knows you’re mine. What else is there to talk about?” He doesn’t give me time to argue, opening the door and exiting, taking me along with him.
A moment later, with my lips tingling from his kiss and my hand in his hand, he’s helping me out of the backseat, and cameras are flashing. Lord, help us both, we’re about to be tabloid fodder all over again. The press must have spied us back at the studio and followed. We’re so close, they didn’t even need to drive. They could have just ran after us on foot.
Damion pulls me in front of him, his big body a shield from the cameras. He’s my shelter, and he’s always been that to me, from everyone and everything but himself.
Chapter twenty-three
A doorman and two security guards rush to our aid and usher us away from the flash of cameras and inside the shelter of the building. Relief washes over me with our escape, but in my mind, I’m already imagining the photos of me and Damion that will soon be blasted all over the internet. There’s no way I’m avoiding the subject of “us” with the studio at this point. Zero. Zilch. Add another zero.