Page 74 of Surprisingly Us

Fake Dating the Bad Boy

The cover is light purple with tiny read hearts all over it.

I pick it up and look through it. At first glance, the title suggests it’s a How-To manual, but after further perusal, it’s a romance novel.

My thumb stops at page one hundred and ten, the words cock and pussy jumping out at me.

That’s interesting.

Lettie lets out a soft snore. I set the book back down on the nightstand and after turning out the light, exit her room.

Out in the living room, I stare at the pile of tulle and elastic waistbands. She needs the rest, but she’s going to be frustrated that we didn’t get the tutus done.

With one phone call, I could easily have this done, but Lettie emphasized that part of the magic is that they were made by the dancers. Hopefully they won’t mind me being a stand-in.

Before I settle in to work, I box up the leftover food and put it in the refrigerator.

Lettie’s near-empty refrigerator.

The white board hanging on the wall tells me tomorrow is grocery shopping day. Wednesday is laundry and a vet appointment for Maxine. Her to-do list and schedule that is never ending.

I send Ramsey a quick text, then get to work.

CHAPTER 21

Colette

“Does that feel good?” Rhys whispers. His hands massage my calf, one thumb pressing into the tender muscle on the outside of my shin.

“Yes.” I sigh, relaxing into his touch.

He works his hands up the back of my leg, my aching muscles begging for attention.

“What about this, Princess?”

His warm palm skates along my inner thigh. His fingertips teasing the top of my leg as his thumb inches closer to the apex of my thighs.

A tingling sensation rushes between my legs. Suddenly, my clit is pounding like it has its own pulse. Throb, throb, throb.

With a devilish grin, Rhys bites down on his bottom lip, and looks up at me from between my thighs.

Jesus, I might orgasm from just looking at him.

Those fingers of his tease the edge of my underwear until one slips beneath.

“So wet for me, aren’t you, Princess?”

I am wet. So, so wet. I can feel it on my fingertips.

Wait. It’s his fingers, so why do I feel the slickness on mine?

My eyes fly open to discover I’m in my bed with my hand in my leggings.

The dream wasn’t real, but the throb between my legs is.

I roll over and check my phone. It’s just before six in the morning so my alarm hasn’t gone off yet.

My dream was clearly inspired by Rhys’s foot massage last night.

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