Page 131 of The Fake Date Agreement

His hands are everywhere, cupping my breasts, grasping my hips, and then tilting me as he picks up the pace.

“Your legs,” he pants. “Around me.”

I circle his hips with my legs, and this new angle means every thrust fills me so utterly I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him in it.

I’m close. My hips rise to meet each of his thrusts while the headboard bumps against the wall. The sounds of our moans fill the room.

Pleasure bursts within me—sharp, intense, almost painful.

Reid thrusts twice more, slides deeper than I thought he could, then shakes, groaning my name as he holds himself there, tight against me.

Long minutes later, he turns us on our sides, holding me close with his lips against my forehead as he softens within me.

He’s gentle when he pulls away to deal with the condom and cleans between my thighs before gathering me close again.

My eyelids are heavy, and I know we have to pick up the sheets hanging off the bed. Later. I’ll move later. Reid kisses my shoulder and drags the sheets up and around us when I move to get up.

He yawns. “Tobie?”

“Reid?”

“We haven’t talked about tonight.”

I look at his face, strangely hesitant. “What about tonight?”

“This is your room. Your space. Do you want me to?—”

I kiss him. “Stay.”

“You sure?”

I crawl onto his chest, rest my head on his shoulder, and close my eyes.

His body vibrates as he chuckles.

He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my hair. “I got the message loud and clear, beautiful. I’m not going anywhere.”

I want to ask if it’s for always, but I don’t want to know the answer. Hoping this fake relationship will last feels like yet another dream I’m too afraid to reach for.

Chapter 32

Tobie

The sky isgray as I pull back my drapes, yawning from yesterday's excitement.

After Reid left my room this morning, I felt it was time to tackle some tasks I’ve been putting off. We didn’t make any plans today, and truth be told, it’s nice to have some time to myself and veg out in my room.

Three fake boyfriends have meant I’m barely in my room these days. I take in the pile of clothes on the floor, the barely made-up bed, and I have a hazy memory of when I last did laundry.

“Time to adult,” I mutter, resigned to cleaning.

By the time I’ve finished doing a couple of loads of laundry, vacuuming, dusting, and catching up with my dad on the phone, the day is over, and I’m done.

After whipping up a quick meal of teriyaki salmon, green beans, and brown rice, I make myself a cup of peppermint tea and crawl under my sheets with a book to snuggle up with.

My phone vibrates across my bedside table, startling me.

I answer it, distracted. “Yeah?”

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