Page 71 of Playing Pretend

I swallow, my dry throat aching with the sudden moisture.

This is insane.

“I’ll be waiting at the bar.” He closes the door, leaving me alone with the monstrosity clutched in my hands.

I suck in breath after breath, the starting sequence to hyperventilation clawing at my lungs.

I tear at the remaining packaging, the paper floating to the floor as I expose a black silicone vibrator with gold edging. Fancy. Expensive. Scandalous.

A thrill shoots through me. One that shouldn’t exist.

I can’t do this. Can I?

It’s too much. An edible G-string—yes. A fully functioning vibrator while seated at a formal dinner with my colleagues? No. It’s not possible.

I dump the box on the bed and snatch my cell from the table to text Rome.

Piper

What if I don’t wear it?

Rome

Lesson two—a verbal contract is binding. But you should already know that. Maybe you aren’t ready for this job after all.

He’s baiting me. I won’t sink my teeth into the trap.

Piper

I propose a renegotiation. Let’s take things back to the way they were. No toys. No promises. Just a simple agreement to play boyfriend and girlfriend for the final night.

Rome

You want to concede that I can touch and kiss you?

Rome

All night.

Rome

Because that’s what I’ll do.

Rome

Relentlessly.

My stomach twists in knots.

No, I don’t want that either.

“Shit.” I bite my lip. He’s got me backed into a corner. One that’s based on pride.

There’s nothing to stop me packing my bags and walking out of here without a goodbye to my friends or a farewell to Rome.

I know he wouldn’t deny me the job I’m owed if I refused this stupid game. The problem is he’d make a silent judgment. He’d place me in a box markedfun-free zone. And maybe that would be for the best when trying to initiate a working relationship. But my fluttering stomach and reckless pulse give me pause.

What’s the worst that could happen?

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