“Well…” My voice trails off. A few hours is too long for me to be without my cell. “I do. What if my brother calls and needs help? Or my mom?”

His gaze softens, fills with understanding. “Can you put it in your—bra?”

I actually giggle. And I never giggle. “I’m surprised you know that old bar trick.” I sober up. “I can’t. I’m not wearing one.”

He looks like he just swallowed his tongue. Just saying that was worth his reaction alone. “I can keep it in my pocket if you want.”

“Really? Thanks. I appreciate it.” I set the phone on vibrate and hand it over, our fingers brushing. Electricity shoots up my arm and rub at it absently while I watch Drew slip my phone into his pocket.

“Let’s go. We’ll meet them outside by the car.”

I follow him out of the guesthouse toward the giant four-car garage. These people live in such excess, it’s staggering. “We’re going to ride with them?”

“My dad insists.” He doesn’t look too pleased which reassures me. I don’t want to ride with them either. “I guess we could take advantage and get shit faced drunk if we want.”

I’ve seen him at La Salle’s plenty of times. “I’ve never seen you drunk. From what you’ve told me, I figure you don’t like to get out of control. To me, getting drunk equals out of control.”

He glances over at me. “You’re right. Guess you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Not quite,” I murmur as we reach the garage. I wish I did, but he’s holding his secrets extra close.

“Aren’t you bringing a coat?”

I shake my head, hold back the gasp that wants to escape when he scoops up my hand with his. My reaction to him is so ridiculous and I really need to learn how to control it. Everything between us isn’t real and I have to remember that. No matter how good it feels.

And my fingers entwined with his feels really, really good.

“You’re going to get cold,” he says as we stop in front of the garage and wait for his parents. A hint of satisfaction rolls through me because after they nag at us from the moment we arrive home, now we’re the ones waiting for them.

“Maybe you’ll keep me warm?” With a smile aimed directly at him, I nudge his upper arm with my shoulder, marveling at his rock hard biceps. I’ve been hoping to catch a glimpse of him with his shirt off, but it hasn’t happened yet. I know beneath the clothes he’s built like a god, and I want to see all that muscly goodness.

He lifts a brow. I really love it when he does that. “Are you flirting with me?”

I’m about to flirt some more when his parents appear, the both of them walking hurriedly toward us as one of the garage doors open, revealing a gorgeous black Range Rover parked within. I try to act all nonchalant as we approach the car, Drew opening the door for me so I can slip inside the back seat first. I don’t expect him to slide in after me, and I swear I felt his fingers tickle the back of my thigh for the briefest second.

But when we settle in our seats, his expression is completely neutral so I figure I imagined it.

His parents aren’t really talking and that makes me uneasy. I wonder if they had a fight. Or if they’re still pissed because I took too long. Drew reassured me earlier the dinner didn’t start until seven so even now we still have a half hour. But maybe they like to be early and snag a good table. Crap, I don’t know.

I’m going into this blind and I’m nervous.

Drew reaches out and grabs hold of my hand again and when I look up at him, he smiles at me in the darkness. I have this sudden sense that it’s the two of us against the world. We’re in this together and we have to depend on each other to get through it. Sounds completely dramatic and silly but I can’t help the way I feel.

I also can’t help but stare at him for a little too long, marveling at the masculine beauty of his face. It’s so unfair when people are so sickeningly good looking and that’s Drew. He should disgust me he’s so gorgeous.

Instead he makes me feel all swoony and stupid. Like my head is getting lighter from all the brain cells evaporating the longer I look at him and I wonder if he can feel me staring.

When he turns to meet my gaze, I know he feels me staring. He smiles, the sight of it reassuring my nervous, racing heart and I blurt out the first question I can think of. “What does the D stand for?”

He frowns and shakes his head. “What D?”

“Your middle name. You’re Andrew D. Callahan.” I pause, hoping his parents aren’t listening to us. His dad is backing the car out of the garage and Adele is murmuring something to him, but I can’t make out what.

“Ah.” He nods, as if he knows an age-old mystery. “What do you think it stands for?”

Hmm, he’s acting kind of flirtatious too. I like it. Makes the moment lighter, especially with the tension-filled drama going on in the front seat. “Dumbledore?”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. “No.”

I tap my index finger against my chin. “Daniel.”

“Nope.”

“Dylan.”

“Huh, that goes with the whole Callahan Irish theme, but wrong guess.”

I go through a few other D choices, all of them ridiculous, when I finally hit on the right one.

“David,” I whisper.

His smile grows. “You finally got it.”

“Do I win a prize?” I return his smile.

“Sure,” he says easily. “What do you want?”

“You’re asking me? Shouldn’t you determine the prize?”

“You can have whatever you want.” He skitters his thumb across the palm of my hand, sending a flurry of shivers across my skin. “Name it and it’s yours.”

We haven’t kissed yet. Well, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek last night but other than that, nothing. And that’s what I want. A kiss from Drew. I’m not talking a long, drawn out tongue twisting make out session, though that sounds promising.

I just want to feel his lips press against mine once. I want to know how soft they are, what he tastes like, how warm his breath is. I want to enjoy that first, tentative, thrilling moment of kissing someone.

But am I gutsy enough to ask for it?

Drew

She’s hesitant and I don’t know why. Anticipation pours through my veins as I wait for her reply. I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but it seems to have gotten into her too, and we’re flirting with each other. For real and not because we have to, but because we want to.

It helps to ease the tension that’s emanating from the front seat. I have no idea what those two are fighting about, but I’m not going to let them get me down. I have a gorgeous girl sitting next to me in the dark, in the back seat of a car, wearing the sexiest dress I’ve ever seen. It covers practically her entire front but molds to her curves and the skirt is so damn short, it wouldn’t take much for me to sneak my hand under there and touch her.

But it’s the back of the dress that gets me, makes me want to peel her out of it and see Fable in all her na**d glory. That low cut vee and how it dips to the middle of her back, the way it exposes all of that smooth, silky skin, the delicate lace laying against her flesh. Shit, I’m a goner every time I look at her. My fingers literally itch to touch her there.

Touch her everywhere.

“I want you to kiss me,” she finally says, her voice so soft, I almost can’t hear her. In fact, I’m wondering for the craziest moment if I’m hallucinating because no way in hell did she just ask me to kiss her.

Shooting a glance toward the front seat, I notice they’re not paying us any mind. The satellite radio is going, playing some smooth jazz shit and they’re talking to each other in low, dark murmurs. They both sound pissed with each other and I wonder if any of this involves me.

Right now, I don’t care. I should never care. What they fight about isn’t my problem.

“Drew.” Her soft voice draws me back and I look at Fable, find myself lost in her green eyes. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, swallowing hard. Fuck, my parents are right there. Adele only has to turn her head about two inches and she’s looking right at us. She won’t like it if I kiss Fable in front of her. She might even flip out. I don’t know if I want to take that risk.

Don’t be a pussy, man. Kiss her, asshole. KISS HER!

Leaning over the center console, I reach out, drift my fingers across Fable’s cheek. Her skin is so soft and she closes her eyes, her lips parting. Her tongue sneaks out and she licks her upper lip. Just like that, I’m sporting a hard on and without thought I settle my mouth on hers. Once. Softly, as light as a butterfly’s wings, my lips lingering for a few, stolen seconds before I break the connection.

Her lids flutter open and she’s watching me with that attentive gaze. The one that makes me feel like she can see everything I hide inside me. The good and the bad. The beautiful and the ugly. “That’s all you got?”

She’s teasing me. I can see it in the light of her eyes, the slight quirk of her lips. Damn, I want to kiss her again, so I do.

This time, she slips her hand around the back of my head and keeps me there so I can’t escape. And I don’t want to. Her fingers thread through my hair, stroking me as our lips connect again and again. Her touch feels so good. A little moan escapes me and I swipe at her upper lip with my tongue, savoring her sticky sweet taste. She parts her lips, opening herself to me and I take full advantage.

I search her mouth with my tongue slowly. Thoroughly. She tastes f**king amazing and my skin is suddenly too tight, I’m burning up inside. I’m so hard, I ache with it, and I can’t remember ever becoming as turned on as this and so fast, too. Our fun little make out session is getting out of control quick, and I’m worried my parents are going to lose it when they see us all over each other in the backseat like a bunch of teenagers.

Within two seconds I don’t care if my parents see us or not. I’m lost in her touch, lost in the way her body molds to mine, how she tastes, the sound of her breathing.

My hand is resting on her waist, my fingers massaging the silky fabric of her dress. The road that takes us to Pebble Beach is curvy and my dad is driving kind of fast, so we’re swaying against each other in the back seat. I take advantage again, pulling her closer, loving how easily she comes to me. She wraps her arms around my neck and devours my mouth, her little tongue twisting and tangling with mine.

Our kissing isn’t for show. This isn’t to make an impression on others. We’re kissing each other because we want to. And we’re not stopping ourselves either.

We’re only two days in to this fake relationship crap and this is where we’re at, wrapped around each other like pretzels and hoping like hell we don’t have to let go of each other any time soon.

At least, that’s what I’m feeling.

The car swerves hard to the left, sending me toppling over Fable.

“Andy!” Adele chastises and my dad grumbles a halfhearted sorry as he slows down.

I end the kiss first, opening my eyes to find her staring up at me. She looks dazed, her lips are damp and her cheeks are flushed. She’s even prettier than when I first saw her in the bathroom and was completely blown away by the way she looked in that sexy dress.

She’s prettier because I’m the one who put that glow in her eyes and the color in her cheeks.

“We—” She swallows hard, her breathing accelerated, and she licks her lips again. I lean into her real quick, pressing my forehead against hers. I close my eyes and count to five before opening them again, trying to gather my thoughts so I won’t end up sounding like a dumbass when I finally find my voice.

“We what?” I ask, pulling away from her the slightest bit. I don’t want to let her go. It feels too good, holding on to her, her curves filling my palms, her mouth fused with mine.

Holy shit, I never think like this. I usually run like crazy. Kissing and sex and all the other crap that comes with it leads to…I can’t explain it. Sex leads you to a bad place. Where you’re doing things you don’t want to be doing. Or doing things that feel so damn good, but you know is wrong. Sex for me has always been…shameful.

I hate that. I hate feeling guilty for doing something that feels absolutely amazing. I hate being involved with people I shouldn’t have been, and they ruin everything for you.

That’s what I despise the most. And resent. I’m full of such resentment, I’m tempted to tell Fable she doesn’t want to hang around with a guy like me, even if it’s fake.

Especially if it’s fake.

“We should do that again. Don’t you think?” She runs her fingers through my hair once more and I close my eyes, savoring her touch. I suddenly crave it. Human touch. Fable’s touch.

“You mean kiss?” I ask because I’m confused. I don’t know what she’s talking about, too distracted by how she’s touching me, the sound of her voice.

“Yeah. We need to put on a good show tonight, right?”

Wait a minute, put on a good show? Was this some sort of practice session or something? “Uh, sure.”

“Give the neighbors and your parents’ friends and probably some of your friends too an extra good show so they believe we’re really, truly involved?” She’s pulling out of my embrace and my arms feel empty. She settles into her seat, her breath still coming fast. At least I know I affected her somewhat.

“I guess.” I shrug. I feel like I’ve been used. And that’s completely ridiculous.