Page 30 of Hired By the Enemy
“Ah…thanks.” I really have no choice but to hand my phone over to Paul.
Paul takes a step back. I stretch my arm around Matthew to rest lightly on his waist, keeping space between us.
Paul looks up from the screen. “That’s about as romantic as a tooth extraction. Come on, get closer.”
Fuck. Everyone is staring at us now.
I pull Matthew closer, and he comes obediently until he’s pressed against my side.
I’m hyperaware of everywhere my body is touching Matthew’s.
His breathing seems slightly shaky. I’m not sure if he’s still unsteady because of the spider or because he’s so close to me.
“You okay with this?” I murmur.
“It’s all about putting on a show,” he whispers.
Having his body pressed against mine causes my heart to pound so hard I’m sure he can feel it through the thin layers of fabric separating our bodies. Fuck, I don’t have the excuse of a near-miss with a spider to explain why my pulse is racing.
I can hear Paul taking the photo, but I’m not paying attention to him.
I glance down at Matthew, and he’s staring at me, his face flushed slightly, and I’m suddenly reminded of his flushed face last night. I can’t help my gaze dropping to his lips. Those lips that kiss like they belong to both an angel and a devil.
Without thinking, I lean down to brush my lips lightly over his. He lets out a sharp breath, and I withdraw swiftly.
Fuck. My heart gallops even faster. That was all about putting on a show for his colleagues, being the best fake boyfriend possible.
He knows that, right?
More importantly, do I?
“That’s very different from your kiss on the dancefloor last night,” Carl says.
Matthew’s cheeks instantly turn red, and my own face flames as well. “There’s a time and aplace,” he says.
Carl cocks an eyebrow. “And the dancefloor was the right time and place, was it?”
“It was slightly more appropriate than a waterfall where we are quite far from privacy,” Matthew says.
He steps away from me, and I immediately feel the absence of his body pressed against mine.
Which leaves me wondering—how can getting off with someone once mess with my head so much?
For the rest of the hike and at dinner, I try to keep some physical distance between Matthew and me. I know I’m not being the greatest fake boyfriend, but it’s impossible when my head is as fucked up as it currently is.
Fuck. Heading back after dinner to our empty villa—the scene of last night’s crime—doesn’t help.
When I shoot a look at Matthew, his eyes are deep and dark. I’m pretty sure he’s remembering last night too.
He licks his lips, and fucking hell, seeing his bottom lip so shiny and pink and perfect is like a beacon for my libido.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I mutter.
I escape into the bathroom, trying to get my cock to settle down. But it really appears to have a mind of its own when it comes to all things Matthew.
Stripping and stepping into the shower doesn’t actually help matters because my cock is used to the shower being fun time. But I flatly refuse to jerk off to thoughts of Matthew O’Connor, which leaves both me and my cock frustrated.
I come out of the bathroom, all clean and horny, to find Matthew is not in the room.
