The Pretend Boyfriend novel Chapter 90

She's playing with his cock again. She appears to have a fascination with it. She snares it between her fingers and thumb, and she is pulling at it, giving him a languorous hand job. She treats him like a sex object.

The thought of this is depressing, even though women have treated him as a sex object for most of his adult life. But he was in control. He called the shots. He decided who he wanted to have sex with.

With Delilah, he has no control whatsoever. He does what she tells him, and it's freaking him out. More so as the days whittle past.

She says, "I'm tired of staying in here. I want to be seen out with you. Only I'm not going as me."

He furrows his brow. He watches her as she leaves him on the bed and walks to her built-in closet, stark naked. She rummages in there and takes out a brunette wig. She goes to the dressing table mirror and tries it on.

"You're wearing that?" he says.

"Why not?" She shoots him a pointed look. "You got a problem?"

They dress. She dons her wig proper, and he has to admit she looks pretty good. The plastic surgery job was astounding. No one would have recognized Adele Jankovic. And with her brunette, femme fatale wig, no one would recognize Delilah Faulkner either, unless you look really hard.

She makes him take a shower and brush his hair. As he is doing so, she wraps her arms around his waist and looks at his reflection in the mirror.

"You're so handsome," she murmurs, squeezing his waist tightly.

"Thank you."

The wistfulness he espies in her expression makes him think that this is not a random compliment. She has gotten more affectionate with him in recent days. She strokes his hair. She kisses him deeply. She lies in his arms when they fall asleep at night. Her obsession with him is turning into something else. Something he dare not admit.

They go out in his Jeep. He drives them all the way out of Chicago to a smaller town. She chooses a Chinese restaurant, and they dine on sweet and sour pork and lo mein. Just like a regular couple on a date. She gazes at him constantly with that strange light in her eyes. His discomfort level increases. Between courses, her hand snakes out for his on the table.

I am not your date, he wants to tell her through clenched teeth. But he's afraid to rock the equilibrium, especially since he's poured in so much effort.

She says, "I've always dreamt of this. Dreamt of us being together like this."

His voice is tight as he says, "Well, yeah, you can dream on. I may be going to prison in a couple of weeks. You made sure of that."

"I like this," she confesses. "I like being with you. I have forgotten what it's like to truly be with you."

"You haven't truly been with me. What we did in college was - " he waves a diffident hand " - not me."

"I know. But I still like it anyway." She pauses. "I like it a whole lot more than I thought I would."

He frowns. "What are you saying?"

She runs the tip of her finger down the back of his hand. "I'm saying that ... " she seems to choke a little " ... that I may want this to continue. So here's a new deal. I'll drop all charges against you. But on one condition."

She raises her grey eyes to appraise him. There's a sudden vulnerability in them that he hasn't seen for a long time. Not since she was Adele Jankovic and bared her soul to him.

She says, "I want this. I want this to continue. I want us to be together. A couple." He flinches at the word, and she notices this. "I want you, Brian. You owe me."