Page 88 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

She frowns.

“You’re so hot when you’re annoyed,” I try, cajoling her into playing along. Also, it’s true—she’s hot when she’s annoyed. She’s hot all the time. I’ve never met a woman who’s so fucking compelling, though that’s not the right word, exactly. She drives me crazy, though that’s not precisely it, either. “You know you are.”

She rolls her eyes. She thinks I’m patronizing her again. I’m not. She’s hot all the time. I’ve always felt it, I realize. All those Friday nights in my office.

“Kitten,” I say in the commanding tone I use when I want my people to shape up. I whisper into her ear, “Marvin is out there listening. Play. Along. Play your role.”

She does her one-eyed squint. “Mmmm. Do that again,” she says.

I lean in, caging her with my arms. “Be more convincing,” I whisper.

“Mmmm,” she says. TheMmmmis more convincing, at least.

“You like that?” I rumble.

“Umm…somewhat,” she says, more loudly.

I narrow my eyes. Lower my voice. “I think you love it. I can tell you love it.”

“No, actually that does nothing for me,” she says, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Try a different thing. Something less…mechanical.”

I give her a stern look, and she bites her lip. Does she think that was a funny thing to say? I show her with my scowl that I do not think it was funny. I lean in, whisper into her ear, “Don’t mess this up.”

When I pull back, she has a dangerous light in her eyes. Breathily, she says, “Yes, Captain Sternpants.”

I growl and put a finger to her lips. Marvin would’ve heard that one, too.Captain Sternpants.Great. He’ll think that’s her name for me now.

“Mmmm,” she says, all sexy, but there’s laughter in her eyes.

That scraping noise again. Is Marvin moving closer?

“Well,” she says, grabbing my finger and pulling it away, speaking loudly enough for anyone to hear, “I have to level with you, honey—sometimes when you wear the squirrel outfit and want me to pet the tail? While you make those chittering noises? That’s not working for me. I’ve been meaning to request that we don’t do that particular role-play game anymore.”

It takes a moment to process what she just said.

“I grant you it might be sexy to some people,” she continues.

Quickly I slap my hand over her mouth. She’s snorting silently beneath my hand. Her chest heaves, now—she’s all-out laughing, or would be if I didn’t have my hand there.

“Not funny,” I grumble into her ear.

Her chest keeps convulsing. She clearly thinks it’s hilarious. Her mouth is warm under my palm.

Again I growl. Just a growl.

She grabs one of my fingers and tears my hand from her mouth. “If you want to role-play, maybe something more conventional than squirrel and zookeeper? Might I suggest teacher and student—”

I clap my hand back over her mouth just in time. She’s shaking with suppressed laughter.

“I’m glad you’re entertaining yourself,” I whisper, pressing her harder to the wall, lips warm under my palm.

She’s still laughing.

“Stop,” I whisper.

She doesn’t stop.

Again I lean in, close to her ear. “What happens if I take away my hand? Will you keep laughing? Are you gonna be a problem?”

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