Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Rocky glances back at me. “She was just trying to dodge some fucking jackass at the club.”
“So you stuck your tongue down her throat?”
He lifts his brows. “After I pulled her away from him and said she was with me, yeah—she kissed me.”
This hurts. It shouldn’t hurt, but being in a fake relationship is something he does often with me. “How chivalrous.”
“I probably enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed that fucking . . .” He trails off as malice seeps from his voice, unable to find a suitable term for Henry. “That fuck all over you.”
“It was fine,” I mutter, a numbness swirling. I roll up my sweatshirt sleeves.
Rocky takes a deep breath. “But seriously, Phebs.”
“Seriously what?”
“Are you all right?” he asks again.
His concern knocks into me. “Yeah. I am.” I shrug. “It was easy.” Something gnaws at me. Guilt, maybe? I just hate that it was so easy. “Was it supposed to be hard?”
He stares back out at the sparkling, fake Eiffel Tower. “I don’t know.”
Me either.
After the light show ends, we walk a few blocks down the strip, passing club promoters who try to entice us with our names on guests lists and free VIP tables. One guy is one hundred percent a scammer. He’s asking a couple girls for twenty bucks up front through PayPal. It doesn’t always take one to know one, but the girls are falling for his act.
As we pass the promoter, Rocky sends him an intrusive, intense look that causes him to stumble over his words.
“And . . . uh, yeah, you know what,” the scammer says to the girls. “It’s on me. Don’t worry about PayPal.”
We never slow our stride, and I tell Rocky, “Keep that up and people are going to think your heart is moral.”
His lip nearly twitches into a smile. “That’s the point. Make everyone believe I’m an upstanding citizen. Wholesome.” He thinks for a second. “People like him just hate looking into their reflections and seeing what’s staring back. I know what I really am.”
“You like looking at yourself?”
He raises his brows at me like I’m a breath from calling him Narcissus. “I don’t have a problem with it. Do you?”
With looking internally at myself? With contemplating my immoral deeds? Henry was a fucking slimeball, and I block out how his hands slid over my ass and the smell of his bad breath. And I just revel in the fact that he’s out of pocket a large, embarrassing sum.
I don’t regret it.
“I can look at myself,” I tell Rocky. “The mirror isn’t really my enemy.” I’m happy that I contributed to tonight’s victory and payout.
I’m useful.
He says little in reply. We continue our casual pace along the strip. Enough space between us that we could be strangers, but not when our gazes catch for longer than a second.
We could be friends.
The distance begins to shrink with each step. His fingers brush against my fingers, and a tingling sensation accelerates my pulse.
We could be secret lovers.
Reaching a hot dog stand, we break apart, and I know we are none of those things and something else entirely.
We grab some street food before taking a cab back to the penthouse.
Rocky and I share the quiet with each other, and it’s a comfortable silence until we hit the glitzy elevator.
He turns to me. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he breathes. “About it being easy.”
“Yeah?” Goosebumps line my skin.
“Yeah.” He nods, his gunmetal eyes on mine. “And I think if it were hard for us, we’d be bad at our jobs. It’s supposed to be easy. We’re supposed to enjoy it.”
“I thought you said you didn’t enjoy it?” Didn’t he insinuate that?
“Not kissing a stranger,” he tells me. “Gaining their trust. That’s power. It felt fucking good.” A frown knots his brows. “Didn’t it for you?”
Yes. I like power.
It makes me feel safe.
I’m also afraid of it. We don’t watch the numbers tick higher as we ascend. Our gazes are on each other. An understanding breathes between us like pure oxygen.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “It did feel good.”
A string of yearning pitches my pulse. Step closer, Rocky. Touch me, Rocky. I want you all over me, Rocky. I imagine him thrusting me against the elevator buttons. I imagine him gripping my face with the fierce affection of a lover, of a come-hell-or-high-water companion.
I imagine his heart hammering against my heart. A carnal ache winds through me in a torturous, torrid beat.
His gaze flits to my lips.
My breathing shallows, and yet, we’re the same side of a magnet. Unwilling and unable to unite. I’ve never kissed him outside of a job. His lips have only touched mine with stipulations attached. This is just for our roles.
I already hear my mom. “Look how attractive he is, bug. Look at how he’s looking at you. He adores you.”