Page 106 of Fake Out Hearts

She laughs and shakes her head at me before she hands me my coat. “Yes, you are, but I’ll have to take a rain check on testing that. We’ve got money to raise. Though it seems like something else is already standing up,” she says with a grin as she stares at my hard cock in my pants and chews her lip.

I sigh. “Fine, but at least let me help fix your hair before we leave. You look like you were just running through the woods.”

“No thanks to you,” she says as I run my fingers through her hair to straighten it out.

“What? I can’t help it. Every part of you is beautiful, so shoot me for wanting to touch it all.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” she says and closes her eyes like she’s enjoying me touching her. “God, that feels amazing. But we better hit the road before I change my mind,” she says and slips away out of the condo before I get the chance to actually change her mind. It took us way longer than it should have to get ready since we were so handsy with each other, but at least we managed to get dressed fully.

Even though it’s an auction, this is supposed to be a more upscale event, so I’m wearing a classic black tuxedo. We ran out of time to go shopping for a new dress like I wanted to buy for Becca, but Margo let her borrow a sleek black gown of hers that fits her like a second skin—that’s part of the reason it was so difficult to keep my hands off her.

Our reflections are warped in the glass of the car’s windows, but even so, I can tell we look good. And we definitely look the part of a rich power couple off for an evening milling around with other rich and powerful people. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for years now, but it still blows my mind that this is my life. When I was a poor kid growing up, I didn’t think I’d ever set foot at a ritzy dinner like this once in my entire lifetime, much less make a regular thing out of it.

I help Becca into the car as usual before getting in the driver’s seat, and even though we’re officially running late, I still lean over the console for another kiss. Her mouth is all too ready to meet mine, and her hands wind themselves up in my hair. But she breaks the spell and pulls away, breathing heavily. “We have ten minutes.”

“Plenty of time for a quickie, especially with the valet taking the car,” I say confidently, and although she beams at me, she reaches around to buckle her seatbelt.

"Let’s save it for after the event. It’ll be more fun that way. You know, build the anticipation even more.”

“You’re playing with me, but you know what? I like it.” I start the car and peel out of the garage. It’s a good thing I know the city because, despite my protests, Becca’s right—we don’t have a lot of time.

We arrive at a relatively non-descript, multi-story hotel just under ten minutes later, and at first, Becca looks convinced we’re at the wrong place. I don’t blame her for being skeptical, because it doesn’t really look like the kind of place that would host a fancy dinner auction. But as we pull around toward the parking area, she spots people in very nice clothing walking into the front entrance and breathes a sigh of relief.

I drive up to the valet and climb out of the car to walk around and help Becca out like the gentleman I am. The driver takes the car, so I escort Becca up the stairs into the hotel lobby where around two dozen people are milling and nursing their drinks. It’s a nicer hotel than it looks like from the outside.

“Is this it?” Becca whispers in my ear, and I chuckle.

“Getting used to the lifestyle of the rich and famous, huh?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought… I don’t know, I thought this would be ritzier.”

“You haven’t seen the best part yet. Come on,” I say and walk her over to the dual elevator, then press the button to call for it. People are recognizing us as we pass, no doubt because of Kaplan’s stupid fucking reality show episode, but they at least have the decency to keep their mouths shut. And that’s the right idea.

We pack into the elevator with a few other couples and take it all the way up to the roof. Becca shoots me a quizzical look, but Ijust grin at her. A few moments later, we emerge onto a massive, covered rooftop where dozens of tables are setup and at least two hundred people are gathered. String lights dangle among the vine-patterned covering, giving the area a soft, warm glow, and well-dressed attendants zip among the crowd carrying trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

“Is this more like what you had in mind?” I ask, but she’s speechless as her eyes wander over all the people. And her eyes shoot wide open when she finally realizes she’s rubbing elbows with NHL royalty.

I spot players from more teams than I can count or keep track of, and coaches too. Some are current, some are former, but I recognize almost everyone here. And I’m sure she does too, given her love of hockey.

“This is incredible,” she whispers, more to herself than anyone else, and I smile as I loop my arm through hers.

“You’re right, it is. Ready to meet some of them?” I’m not sure how it’s possible, but her eyes widen even farther.

“Are you serious?” she breathes.

“Of course I am. You’re part of the club now since you married me. Might as well take advantage of it, right?” Becca’s mouth hangs open as she takes another look around the room. “Or we could just grab a drink and a good seat for the auction. Your choice.”

“No, let’s mingle.”

“That’s more like it,” I say and make a beeline for Andrew Wheeler, the coach of the New Jersey Titans. We’ve met a few times before, and he’s a really nice, friendly guy, so I figure talking with him first will be a good way to break the ice for Becca.

Andrew, who’s bald and wears electric blue glasses, lights up when he sees us approaching. “Ah, Theo! I was wondering if you’d ever introduce me to your new wife.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because here she is. Becca, this is Andrew. Andrew, Becca.”

Andrew shakes her hand gently. “So nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Becca answers. She looks like she’s about to say something else, but then her body tenses suddenly, her jaw snapping shut.

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