“Shush, I’m watching this.” Jude flaps a hand in our direction in a gesture to shut up.
Teddy scoffs at Jude’s bossy tone.
After three more episodes, Jude heads to his bedroom, and I excuse myself to use the bathroom and brush my teeth as I ready myself to go to sleep.
I’ve tried not to focus on the fact that I’m staying the night with Teddy, but now there’s no escaping it.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror—a bathroom, that while messier than Teddy’s bedroom, doesn’t boast pee on the floor or toothpaste stains in the sink.
Gripping the porcelain, I stare into my too-wide blue eyes.
“Get a grip. This isn’t a big deal. Stop making it into one. All you’re doing is sleeping.”
“Are you talking to someone in there?”
I squeal at the sound of Teddy’s voice on the other side of the door.
“N-No.”
“So, you’re talking to yourself then? Because you were definitely talking.”
“Leave me alone.”
“I need to brush my teeth.”
“You can wait.”
“No, I can’t.”
I swing open the door and glare up at him. “Why are you so annoying?”
“It’s part of my charm.” He brushes past me and grabs a lime green toothbrush off the sink, adding a dollop of toothpaste and then wetting it.
It’s way too small in the bathroom for both him and me, his body touching mine every time he moves. Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “Everyone knows you wet the toothbrush then put the toothpaste on.”
He grins around the white suds in his mouth. Spitting first, he replies, “There is no wrong way. You just like to argue with me.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Is this foreplay for you guys? Do I need to wear headphones tonight?”
I spin around and collide with Jude’s bare chest—literally slam my forehead into his hard pectoral muscle. “Ow.” I rub my forehead, his big hands on my upper arms to steady me.
“Take your hands off my girlfriend,” Teddy growls behind me. He sounds legitimately pissed off and territorial.
Jude gives a lopsided grin as he lifts his hands in the air. “Headphones it is.”
He disappears from the doorway, and I swing back to face Teddy. He’s so close in the tightly enclosed space that I have to tilt my head all the way back to even look at his face.
“Possessive, much?”
There’s a hot, delicious spark in his eyes. He gives a low chuckle that has my nipples tightening against my shirt. He looks down, smirking when he notices the way my body reacts to him.
“Of what’s mine?” His voice has deepened and dammit if the sound of it doesn’t turn me on even more. “Hell yeah, baby.”
“I-I’m not yours.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Jerking his head toward his bedroom he says, “Get settled. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap, but then because I’m an idiot, I do what he asked.
I reason that I was planning on going to his room anyway.
Pulling back the bed covers I slip beneath the sheets. They smell freshly washed, and I narrow my eyes in suspicion that maybe Teddy’s room isn’t normally this clean.
Teddy returns to his room a few minutes later, closing the door behind him and grinning when he finds me laying in his bed with my stuffed octopus he got me for Valentine’s.
“Well, if this isn’t precious.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”
He laughs, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get this show going.”
My brows furrow. “You want to watch more?”
He laughs, scratching his smooth muscular stomach. “No, the one we’re going to put on.”
“What are you talking about?” I’m beyond confused and feeling more than a little stupid that I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“We have to make Jude think we’re having sex.”
“Uh…” I gape at him. “How do we do that?”
“The way I see it, we have two choices. We could do it the old-fashioned way and actually have sex. Preferably I vote for this option.”
“What’s the second one?” I grind out between my teeth, ready to hurl my octopus at his smiling face.
He shrugs, moving over to the bed. “We fake it.”
“What?”
“You know, bounce on the bed, some fake-moaning—maybe I’ll even slap your ass if you’re a bad girl.”
This time I do throw the octopus and he laughs, catching it easily.
Right. Baseball player.
He moves over to the bed, placing his hands on the mattress. He’s so close to me that I could count every individual eyelash if I wanted.
“Be nice to him.” He hands the octopus back to me. “He doesn’t deserve to have your anger taken out on him.”
“Then don’t make me mad.”
“But it’s so fun. Seriously, though,” he motions for me to scoot, “Jude will think it’s weird if we don’t have sex.”
“You have got to be kidding,” I grumble.
“Bet.”
I rub a hand over my face. “What do you want me to do?”
He doesn’t answer, instead, he grabs me and swings my body over his so that I’m straddling him.
“I like this view.”
“I should slap you.” I glower down at the too-hot-for-his-own-good player beneath me.
He wets his lips, flashing a crooked smile. “You just cried over barely swatting me. We both know you won’t slap me.”
“I hate you.” I go to climb off him, but his big hands settle on my upper thighs, his thumbs settling dangerously close to an area I shouldn’t want him anywhere near. Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “What are you doing?”
“Having fake-sex with my fake-girlfriend. Or at least trying to.” He leans up, capturing my earlobe between his teeth and I gasp. “Come on, Van. Help me out.”
“I didn’t know when I agreed to this that fake-sex was involved too.”
“Just play along.” He doesn’t give me a chance to say another word before he starts moving his hips under me, the bed squeaking loudly beneath us.
Embarrassment pinkens my cheeks, and I cover my face. “I can’t do this,” I hiss. “This is mortifying.”
He stops moving and pulls my hands away from my face. “Yes, you can. Do you want Jude to think we’re crocheting in here?”
I giggle. “Do you even know how to crochet?”
“God no, but I do know how to do this.”
He rolls his hips again, and this time I moan and there’s nothing fake about it.
“Just like that.” He smirks, entirely too pleased with himself.
My hands settle on his bare chest. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” He bats his eyes innocently like a dramatic damsel in distress. “This?”
The jerk does it again, and I can’t help the moan of pleasure that leaves me. Wicked, cruel, hard-headed, rich, bastard.
I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell, that I’ll jump on his fucking bed and make weird noises if that’s what it takes, but this isn’t necessary. Then his hands tighten on my thighs, fingers digging in with delicious pressure that not even the cotton of my pajama bottoms can shelter me from. Wetness pools in my core, my body always so quick to betray my mind. Another moan passes between my lips, and this time I’m the one rolling my hips against him.