Page 51 of Maybe We Can Fake It

Then he whimpers, “So close.”

Fighting back my gag reflex, I take almost all of him down and swallow around his head. He explodes in my mouth, his whole body shaking as he empties down my throat.

I don’t pull off until he pushes weakly at my shoulder, and I know he must be getting sensitive. My joints creak a bit as I stand, and when he reaches out to hold on to me, I’m not sure if it’s for my benefit or his.

His eyes have regained focus, but he avoids looking at me, even though his hand is still on my waist.

Everything we just did hangs in the air between us. How are we supposed to move on from this? How do I explain myself? Because it was my fault, right? My inability to control my body’s reaction to him is what brought us here.

But he was the one who wanted to come into the bathroom. He had to have known what I was doing in here. And he essentially encouraged me to continue getting myself off in front of him.

Didn’t he?

Shit, what if I read the whole situation wrong? What if he was actually disgusted at what he found and expected me to apologize, make my walk of shame out of the bathroom, out of his house, and out of his life?

Did I force something on him that he didn’t want? That thought curls dread in my stomach. He trusted me. I was never supposed to do anything to hurt him. I’m such an asshole.

But no. It seemed like he wanted it. It seemed, for a few minutes there, like I could actually have more of him than what I thought I was allowed. Or maybe I only saw what I wanted to see. Maybe I was foolish to let myself believe the fantasy that he might want me the same way I want him.

“Stop freaking out.”

My eyes finally find his, and I breathe a little easier. Because he’s not looking at me with disgust or contempt. Not at all. He’s giving me that soft Brenden look that I like to imagine is reserved only for me. I know he offers it to everyone though. I’m not special.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks. And when my utter confusion keeps me from answering, he adds, “When you let me come in, I figured it was okay to... participate.”

That makes me chuckle, despite the situation. “Don’t worry. I thoroughly enjoyed your participation.”

“That’s not even the right word,” he says. “I didn’t really do anything for you. You did all the work on both of us.”

“Trust me. You did a hell of a lot for me.”

He did more than I can say. Just looking at him was enough of a turn on, watching him watch me. And I can’t forget how it washimI was rutting against when I woke up. His soft, warm body that fueled my desire to an unmanageable level.

“So um...” He glances down at where he’s still touching me and lets his hand fall away. I try not to regret the loss. “What now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t want this to make things weird between us.”

“Me neither,” I tell him.

“Maybe this could be...”

“Be what?” I ask, my heart racing when he trails off. Is he going to tell me he wants more with me? Is it not such a foolish fantasy?

He gazes at me hopefully. “Like a fringe benefit of the whole fake dating thing?”

My heart sinks like a stone. A fringe benefit. Not the start of something real. “Oh. Um. Yeah. I guess it could be. I don’t see why not.”

Other than the fact that beingfriends with benefitswith him might kill me.

When he smiles, eyes bright, I know I’m a goner. That’s it. I’ve accepted my fate. I’ll never be able to say no to this man. And if he wants friends with benefits, then I’ll make sure to give him the best damn benefits he’s ever had.

My sense of self-preservation clearly went out the window days ago.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BRENDEN

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