Page 35 of Pretend for Me

Well, well, my little Peppercorn. Looks like you’re finally making waves and climbing those ladders. Bagging a billionaire?! Damn, girl! Finally making your old man proud. I told you your looks were the only thing that would get you anywhere, and it seems I was right.

My hand trembles, even as my fist curls around my phone at the sight of something I haven’t seen in years. A message that has my eyelid twitching and my skin crawling. A reminder of the asshole whose DNA I’m cursed to share. And a realization that, even after years without his calloused words—as if I wasn’t his own flesh and blood, but a burden handed to him—I’m not as far from a setback as I thought I was.

And just when I’m about to delete the message and block the number, there’s a knock on my door that makes me jump.

“Coming!” I respond breathlessly, shoving my phone into my clutch and running a hand over my emerald-green, body-hugging, spaghetti-strap dress. It’s the same dress I wore toRowan and Shay’s pre-wedding cocktail party, but it also seems appropriate for meeting Dev’s parents for the first time.

Slipping into my heels, I head toward my bedroom door.

Despite my request for him to share his room, Dev moved across the hall to the guest room the day I showed up here with Rome and my sweet bunnies.

Okay, so maybe that day wasn’t the best example of their sweetness, but they probably felt woozy from the car ride and didn’t love being in a new place. The entire experience may have triggered some kind of panic attack in Natalie and she lashed out at Kevin, but she’s calm now.

Still, I have them separated for now. Thankfully, Kevin was not hurt, but I’ve made an appointment with the vet. I haven’t taken them since I got them from the breeder so it’s about time. Perhaps the vet can give Kevin rabbit Viagra or something. Maybe Natalie is sexually frustrated.

I swing my door open, coming face to face with Dev in a white button-down under a navy blazer and slacks. The top few buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, and my breath catches when my eyes track over the scruff below his jaw and the stretch of his neck. The scent of him—a subtle and woodsy cologne—has me feeling dizzy.

Speaking of being sexually frustrated . . .

“Hey!” I croak out, clearing my throat and trying again. “I mean, hi!”

His chestnut brown eyes rake over my frame, flaring slightly when they halt on the subtle hint of my cleavage. “You look . . . nice.” His gaze finds mine again. “Green is my favorite color.”

I lift a brow. “Yeah? I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t, either . . .” his tongue slides over his bottom lip, “not until a couple of weeks ago.”

Yeah, sothis—his raspy voice, his swoon factor turned tolevel one-hundred, and his delicious scent—is not helping my already charged up and dissatisfied libido.

I’ve been living in Dev’s mansion, complete with the kind of security even Fort Knox would envy, for the past week. And while I’ve only seen him twice in that time—not counting this moment right now—given he’s been traveling to God knows which countries or planets, every time has been like a tease to my vagina.

The first was when I’d just gotten home from the salon a couple of nights ago, chauffeured back because Dev’s on a mission to ensure my safety, or maybe just to drive me crazy. The jury is still out.

I was rummaging through my purse when I was met with a hard and sweaty bare chest.Hishard and sweaty bare chest, with the perfect smattering of hair as he exited his home gym. I tried to act nonchalant, even as my core clenched, but I’m pretty sure he watched me track a bead of sweat down from his collarbone. Judging by his smug smirk, he knew I wanted to run my tongue along the same path.

Then there was yesterday, when I saw him walk from his indoor sauna to his bedroom in nothing but a towel, his muscles flexing with each step. And I swear, like the time before, the bastard knew I was watching him. His stupid dimple, buried behind his scruff, appeared right as he was closing his door.

So, because I’m not above irritating him, I decided it was about time he got punished for being a vaginal-tease. I finished his weekly crossword puzzle—diabolical, I know.

Since his return, I’ve seen it lying around on the coffee table—one of those weekly crossword puzzles inside the financial magazines he probably thinks is the word of God. The couple of times I’ve glanced at it, a few new clues have been filled in. Interestingly, I’ve always had a strange knack for puzzles,crosswords or otherwise, and I was dying to finish it for him but have resisted the temptation.

But not last night. I snuck out of my room after he’d gone to bed and finished it, leaving it where it was. I mean seriously, who doesn’t know that another word for “diplomacy” is “tact”?

This morning, as I was stirring creamer into my coffee, he emerged from his room, all GQ’d out from head to toe. His eyes practically popped out when he realized the puzzle was completed.

He held up the magazine from across his monstrous kitchen island, his expression a mixture of amusement and suspicion. “Did you finish this?”

“Hmm?” I’d said nonchalantly. “Finish what?”

He’d set the magazine down on the marble countertop, his gaze fixed on me. “This crossword. Did you finish it?”

I widened my eyes in mock indignation. “Why would I finish your crossword? Do I look like the type to do crosswords in my free time? Come on, Lex, you know I have moretactthan that.”

Dev’s eyes had twinkled, realizing exactly what I’d said, but he didn’t say anything as I sauntered by, making sure to catch another whiff of his cologne, storing it in memory to enjoy throughout my day.

The thing is, I’ve never been shy about my sexual desires. I’m generally upfront about my drive and make no apologies for it, but with Dev, something has held me back.

It’s obvious he knows I find him attractive—my blatant drooling has made that pretty damn clear. But does he feel the same way about me? At certain times, it would seem so, but for some strange reason, my brain turns to goop around him, leaving me second-guessing myself.

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