Page 37 of Kicking it with my Fake Fiancé
I didn’t know much Norwegian, but between my years with Matty as a friend and the handy language learning app I’d downloaded to study over the past month, I think I could interpret what he’d said. Instead of answering him with confirmation that yes, it was me, I followed the sound of his voice, hurrying down the hallway and pushing open the door to my bedroom. There on the mattress was Matty, clothes rumpled, blinking as he adjusted to the light flooding in from the hall. Next to him on the bed was a paperback book that had fallen shut.
I leaned against the doorframe and smiled, getting his sleepy face in the frame of the camera. “You look…”
“A mess,” he supplied.
“I was going to say, ‘fucking edible,’ but sure, a mess works, too.” I grinned and took a step forward. “What are you doing in here?”
He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned, a noise that went straight to my dick. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just sat down to read a bit and the next thing I knew, you were calling my name.”
I hit pause on the recording. “I meant, what are you doing inhere? Didn’t you set your things up in the other bedroom?”
He bit his lip, furrowing his brow. Uncertainty flooded his expression. “Is it okay that I’m in here?”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand. “Hey, of course it is. I don’t have anything to hide from you. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
He squeezed my hand and pulled away before sitting up, cross-legged on the bed, and facing me. “After you being away for so long, I thought it might just be for the best if we shared a space when you returned. I just wanted to be near you. I hope… was I wrong?”
“Not at all,” I murmured, shaking my head. My heart fluttered at the thought of it. “Just to be certain, you’re moving into this room then?”
The soft smile on his face seemed shy, almost reluctant. “I already did. If you want me to go back, I can,” he added in a hurry.
I moved my hand to his face, cupping his jaw, stroking the curve of his cheek with my thumb. “I’m so glad you moved in here.”
“Not just for sex?”
I smirked. “A little bit for sex. But also… I meant what I said. I want to wake up holding you. I want to pull you close and feel your warmth. I want you to let me show you what it’s like to be in a relationship with me.” I turned the camera on again and tipped my head at it meaningfully, so he knew I was recording.
He nodded and yawned. “Let’s get to bed, hmm?”
I glanced at the clock. “What, you don’t want to stay up and watch trashy TV with me? It’s only one in the morning.”
“Wearethe trashy TV people watch at one in the morning,” he murmured sleepily. “And you get exactly no days off before we have to start wedding planning. You shouldn’t stay up late either. We have plans that begin in nine hours.”
A deep sigh escaped me. “Fine. I’ll skip the ice cream sandwich that was calling my name. You did stock us up right?” When he nodded, I continued. “But only because I have this incredibly hot Norwegian man in my bed begging me to sleep with him.”
He snorted. “Hvis du sier det så.”If you say so.
It wasn’t long until we’d both discarded our clothes on the floor, set the camera aside, and crawled under the covers of my king-sized bed. I pulled Matty close and held him tight, grateful to be home.
The blare of the alarm woke us entirely too early, me rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as Matty rolled to end the screeching from his phone. Neither of us were excited to get up, but the business of reality TV was calling. It was eight, which meant Charlie, our American producer, and Heidi, the camera person, were going to be at our house in literally two hours. I had two hours to unpack, shower, eat, and show Matty just how much I’d missed him.
Because I had my priorities in line, I pulled Matty to me and palmed his groin, his morning erection twitching under my touch. He groaned in response before batting my hand away.
“Skøyer,” he murmured before rolling out of bed.
“That’s not one I’m familiar with.” I sat, gathering the duvet around my waist, not ready to admit defeat yet.
“Oh,” he said, and hummed. “Let me think.” He frowned as he made his way to the dresser and pulled out clean clothes. “It’s sort of like calling you a jokester or a rascal. You know, an affectionate insult.”
I scrunched up my nose. “I think I’d rather you call me Daddy,” I muttered, sliding out of bed.
He laughed and shook his head. “Not happening. How about min kjæreste instead?” Matty tugged a t-shirt over his head and leaned in, placing a quick kiss on my lips.
“I don’t know, what’s that one?”
His cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “My dearest.” Matty quickly straightened and looked away, grabbing jeans and then pulling them on. “It’s, um, got a little more gravity to it though. Kind of old-fashioned sounding in Norwegian.”
My own cheeks heated and I nodded. I mumbled my response. “I think that one’s good.”
