The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 89

Instead, she says, "Why don't we stay in tonight and ... ?" She trails a finger down his chest suggestively.

He still looks exhausted. The Xanax didn't offer him a refreshing sleep.

"I can't," he says hesitantly. "I have other plans."

She knows what they are. This means she has to act quickly. She tries to mask the palpitations in her breast, but she is certain he can discern them. He doesn't say a word. There's a guilt in his eyes he cannot erase, and she pretends not to see it.

He says, "Do you have to go back to the gym?"

"Thor is in charge, so they won't miss me for a couple of hours."

"Good." He smiles. A little sadly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

For answer, he leans over to kiss her softly on the lips. His kiss holds so much meaning, so much regret that unbidden tears come to her eyes. She blinks them away quickly before he can see them. He kisses her again with feeling. She returns his kiss, open-mouthed, and soon, they are drinking in one another. Devouring each other's mouths with abandon and a rush of clasping hands and roaming palms.

He explores her mouth. He is the most wonderful kisser she has ever known, and he sucks in her breath, the depth of her, her soul. It's as though he knows he doesn't have much more time to spend with her and he's taking everything she's willing to give him.

They kiss and kiss again and again with mounting hunger.

Soon, he presses her down on the couch, holding his weight up on his elbows. Without taking his mouth off hers, he fumbles at his fresh jeans. A rip down there tells her that he has opened his fly. She knows he doesn't wear underwear as a general rule when he's at home, and she can feel his rock hard flesh straining against her clothes.

He pauses from their kiss long enough to undo the buttons of her jeans as well. Then he tears her jeans off her long legs, as if he's helping her shed her skin. She wears a plain white pair of cotton panties. He swiftly rips these off as well.

She is naked from the waist down, but he still has his pants on, even though his genitals are exposed. She sneaks a look down there. Somehow, his cock seems even more enormous spilling out of his fly this way.

Delilah is not unpleasant to be with, Brian surmises. But he doesn't particularly want to be with her either. He'd rather be with Sam.

He feels awful having to lie to Sam like this. OK, so he omitted the truth. That's the same as lying, isn't it? He never told Sam where he has been, not even once. He guesses (correctly) that she suspects, but she is not saying a word because she respects his privacy and what he has to do.

It's better this way, he tells himself. This way, she has more time to get to know Thor or whoever it is she wishes to date once he's in prison and out of her life.

Today, Delilah has a suggestion.

"Let's go out," she announces.

He eyes her incredulously. "You want to be seen out with me, the man you accused of rape? That won't lend credence to your case, will it?"

His suspicion quotient immediately shoots skyward. What's she trying to pull? So far, she has insisted that he be absolutely discreet. He can only enter after dark. He cannot allow anyone to see him go into her apartment if he knows what's good for Sam. He is made to feel like the lover to the wife of a cuckolded husband. Only the truth is too bizarre to contemplate. Nobody would believe him if he told them.