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  Faking the Love

  Sofia Grey

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Sofia Grey

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  Second Edition issued 2018

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Faking the Love

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Excerpt from Seeing the Love

  About Sofia Grey

  More by Sofia Grey

  Faking the Love

  Love in Wellington #1

  Faking it has never been such fun

  Lucy can’t believe her luck. Upgrade to 1st class flight and a hot hunk in the next seat. He’d never be interested in a geek, so maybe it’s time to reinvent herself?

  Warning: this short story contains a dirty-talking stranger, and a girl who might have bitten off more than she can chew...

  Author’s Note

  This is a re-release of the short story Faking It (previously published in Sexy to Go anthology #1). It's been edited and revised for this edition, and there are variations from the previous release such as setting and time period.

  Chapter One

  I could get used to first class travel. More comfortable seat, way more legroom, top class food and drinks—and a bona fide hunk of gorgeousness in the seat next to mine. And it all came as a free upgrade.

  It was the first time I flew long distance, from my home in England all the way to the bottom of the world in New Zealand, and I couldn’t wait to get there.

  My employer, Tech4, was picking up the tab for my flight. The first-class upgrade was a happy accident, though. There was a screw-up with the airline bookings, and because my seat was already taken, they offered me a ride in first class. Did they think I’d refuse?

  Sadly, the upgrade only lasted for this stage of my journey, to Sydney, so I planned to make the most of it.

  I snuck another look at my seat-buddy, Mr. Gorgeous. I knew his face from somewhere but couldn’t quite place him. The dark, chin-length hair, and eyes like melted chocolate would be enough to place him in the Hot category, but when you added in the light stubble, full lower lip and—shoot me now—dimples in both cheeks, I wanted to swoon in delight. If I chose my perfect attributes from a checklist, he would still exceed my expectations.

  If I was to stand even the slimmest chance of catching his attention for more than a millisecond, I needed a plan.

  He smiled at the stewardess and took the offered glass of champagne, and I glimpsed calluses on his fingertips. I felt like Sherlock Holmes, collecting clues to his identity. I leaned forward to accept my own glass, and caught sight of a guitar pick sticking out of his jacket pocket.

  Musician. God. If my heart fluttered any more, they’d be giving me oxygen and calling for a defibrillator. It was way too long since I last got laid. I was fussy about who I slept with. And besides, just because he looked edible in that supple leather jacket and expensively-scuffed black jeans, didn’t mean he couldn’t be a jerk.

  He looked like the guitarist from Troubled Times, the hot new rock act I read about before I left home. It was my stomach’s turn to flutter. I couldn’t wait to tell Kathy and Elise, my two best friends. They’d want to know if he flirted with me and if I managed to flirt back, something I was terrible at. Sadly, it would be the same as always. I’d be so tongue-tied he’d probably think I was simple.

  A gorgeous, popular, highly successful rock star would never have any interest in me, Lucy Briar, Neural-Code programmer—a.k.a. geek. I needed a new persona. A personality makeover.

  This vast-reaching train of thought flashed through my head in the time it took me to sit back with my drink. I was ready. Fake it until you make it was about to become my new mantra, even if the idea terrified me.

  Mr. Gorgeous smiled and stuck out his free hand to me. “Seeing as we’re going to be sitting together for the next eight hours, we may as well get to know each other. I’m Jez.”

  Oh Lord. His voice was as sexy as the rest of the package. Deep, slightly gruff, and with the merest hint of an American accent.

  What should I call myself? Lucy was too... girl next door. Melanie, my middle name, was better. More rock-chick. “You can call me Mel.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mel.” We shook hands, clinked our glasses, and then sipped champagne. Yes, I could get used to this in a heartbeat.

  “Where are you heading?” he asked.

  “New Zealand. You?”

  “Sydney.”

  My initial flash of disappointment was replaced by a surge of inspiration. We’d part ways at Sydney airport, and I’d never see him again. Mel-the-Rock-Chick could be anyone for the rest of the journey.

  I gave him a lazy smile. “I haven’t been to Sydney. You’ll have to tell me some attractions to look out for.”

  “I might.” His eyes twinkled. “Depends what you’re looking for, of course. Why New Zealand?”

  Here goes. “I’m taking a year off. I’m meeting friends in Wellington, and then who knows where? Fiji... Hawaii... Head over to Vietnam. I’ll decide when I get there.”

  His eyebrows quirked, and he gazed at me, his attention never wavering. “Free spirit, huh?”

  I shrugged and smiled back at him. “Something like that. I suppose I don’t like to tie myself down.” I gave him the tiniest wink. “Of course, it depends who’s doing the tying...” I let my words trail away, and watched as surprise and amusement filled his eyes. He was a rock star. They were always kinky.

  “That right?” He didn’t look away, and neither did I.

  We hadn’t taken off yet, and he was interested. Was this how Elise snagged so many hot guys? A couple of suggestive comments and some intense staring? Could I sustain this for the rest of the flight, without him getting bored with me?

  “You look familiar,” he murmured. “Do I know you?”

  Okay. Time to wheel out Major Lie #2. “You may have seen my picture. I signed a three-book deal with a major publisher.” That was wishful thinking, but I imagined that scenario so often, I could act it out with ease.

  “Congratulations.” He clinked our glasses again, and then beckoned to the passing steward for more champagne. “What genre do you write in?”

  I accepted the top-up and smiled. “Erotic romance.” Playful, and bold after a glass of bubbly on an empty stomach, I trailed my fingertips down the side of his glass. “I know who you are.”

  “You do?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” I gave him a well-duh expression, and he smirked.

  “Guilty as charged.” He tilted his head closer. “Never mind me. I can honestly say I’ve never met an erotic author before. Do you get people asking you all kinds of dumb questions?”

  “Some.” I sipped my drink and cast around for a story. “Mostly, people ask about my sex scenes. How I research them.”

  His eyes were wide and interested. “And how do you?”

  My turn to smirk. “In great detail.”

  I was loving my new persona, and was quite disappointed when we had to get rid of our glasses and prepare for tak
e off. Jez leaned back against his headrest, and we fell silent for the next few minutes. We were soon cruising in the air, and more champagne was delivered, along with a selection of pre-dinner snacks.

  Picking through the crudités and assorted dips, I sneaked glances at my neighbour. His profile was every bit as gorgeous as he was face-on, and with my analyst-brain, I found myself cataloguing the details, to remember later. The silver chain peeping above his black T-shirt. The tidy hands, with short, neat nails. The faint scent of my now-favourite shower gel, drifting from him. The expensive wristwatch. And when he turned to me, the straight, white teeth and megawatt smile.

  Fifteen minutes into the flight, and my panties were soaked.

  While the flight attendant presented us with the menu options, our conversation was temporarily on hold. I’d like Jez for dessert, served naked on a king-sized bed, with a side helping of caramel sauce.

  I put down my bubbly, and took a moment to smooth my pony tail. He followed my hands with his gaze, and I played with my hair a little longer. Would I pick up the conversation baton, or would he?

  “So”—he rolled the word around, dimples flashing with a quick smile—“what’s the most unusual place you’ve had sex? Purely in the interests of research, of course.”

  “Of course.” Shit. What could I say? With my imagination running riot, I grabbed the first lie that came along. “At a rock gig. I was so turned on by the band, I dragged my partner into the deserted ticket office, and we did it on the desk in there.”

  His eyes darkened. “The music turned you on, huh?” His voice dropped to a sensuous purr.

  “Completely.” Channelling my erotic-author personality, I sucked one finger into my mouth, and then rubbed it back and forth across my lower lip. Jez couldn’t take his eyes off me. “Just thinking about the concert, I’m horny now,” I said.

  Surely he wouldn’t fall for my act. I was behaving more like a porn star with every passing minute.

  He shifted in his seat. “On a plane?” He rasped the words. “Have you ever researched how to fuck on a plane?”

  Chapter Two

  Holy crap. I was so totally over my head. If I’d ever plucked up the courage to talk to a random guy before, it would be about video games or the latest sci-fi movies, not sex. I wanted to hug myself and laugh in delight.

  Dragging my attention back, I schooled my features to give him a thoughtful look. “I haven’t. D’you think I should?”

  “Oh yeah.” He smiled at me. “Maybe I can help you with that?” Sucking in a deep breath, he glanced at his watch. “We have some time before dinner. Let’s talk through how it might work.”

  I’d sit here and listen to his sexy voice all day. I nodded, trying not to swoon at the thought. “Go for it. If you were going to seduce the woman sitting next to you on the plane, how would you do it?”

  “Hmm. Do I know her, or is she a stranger?”

  I took a gulp of my dwindling bubbly and made my voice nonchalant. “A stranger. Definitely.”

  Our seats were huge—more like giant armchairs—but when he turned to face me, there was very little space between us. Did it just get hot in here? His smile turned predatory and very confident. “We have the introductions out of the way, yeah?”

  I nodded.

  “And she’s interested?”

  I nodded again.

  “Hmm.” He seemed to think for a moment. “I’d ask her favourite drink.” He touched the stem of my glass. “You can tell a lot by that. Long and slow, like a glass of fruit-loaded Pimms on a hot day, or short and brutal, like rough whisky.”

  “What about champagne?”

  “She likes the fine things in life. She sparkles and shines with all the other beautiful people.”

  He was good. I could fall for his brand of charm. “And then what?”

  “If you could be drinking champagne anywhere in the world, right now, where would it be?” His voice was hypnotic.

  “On a secluded beach, in the sunshine. Pure, white sand, palm trees fringing the area, and the crash of the surf in the distance.”

  “Perfect. Now close your eyes and let me tell you about it.” I hesitated, and he touched my glass again. “I can blindfold you if you prefer.”

  Blindfold. Unbidden, the idea of him covering my eyes burned itself into my brain. My lungs struggled for air, and my pulse leapt to a gallop. In an instant, my mouth was too dry to speak, and all I could do was nod. How would it feel, to have his slender fingers fastening something around my head, taking away one of my senses? Dark thoughts beckoned from the dusty corners of my brain, and I squirmed where I sat.

  “Mmm. I’d use a silk scarf on you. Soft, but very strong.” He touched my forehead with one finger. “Eyes closed.”

  I complied.

  “I can see you, sprawled on a lounger, wearing nothing but a black string bikini. Cabana boys flock round you, each wanting to be the one who brings your drinks.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “I glare at them. I’m on the lounger next to yours, and we’re sweltering in the sun together. I reach for a bottle of lotion and offer to do your back.”

  He paused, and I hastened to answer. “Yes.”

  “The lotion is cool, but I warm it on my palms first. It smells like coconut and something floral. Frangipani, maybe. You lie on your stomach, and I unfasten the string that holds your top together. My fingers brush your skin, and you shiver.”

  I knew he moved closer. It felt as though we were just inches apart, his voice a delicious rumble. “I smooth the lotion across your shoulders first, up to the base of your neck, and then back down. Slowly, with all the time in the world, I work my way down your spine. This is turning into more of a massage, and I make sure every inch of skin has lotion stroked into it. I reach the dip at the base of your spine and bend forward to drop a kiss there. You tremble. Your skin tastes of salt and a hint of lime, and takes me back to when I drank a tequila shot from there, last night.”

  Body shots. I’d never done that.

  I would, with him. My pulse skittered, and I dragged in a ragged breath.

  “I can’t stop touching you. I slide my hands up your sides and brush the outer curve of your breasts. You quiver at my touch.”

  I couldn’t help it; I trembled at the thought. I saw it in my head. Felt his hands on me. Damn, it felt good.

  He chuckled softly. “Just like that, sweetheart. I want to turn you over and work the lotion into your front, but the cabana boys are watching from a distance, and I don’t want them to see you naked.”

  It was an effort to speak, but I needed to object. “I’m not naked.”

  “Not yet.” Oh. “I still need to do your bottom half. And you have the most gorgeous ass.” I did? When did he see it? Wait—he was making it up. “I slip my fingers beneath the little black triangle over your butt and stroke the skin. It’s pale, as though you don't sunbathe naked often, and it needs extra attention. I push the bottoms down a little, to see the creamy globes of your ass.”

  He paused again, and I heard him take a drink. “Good girl, keeping your eyes closed. It’s thirsty work here, in the hot sun. And I have to tell you...” Another pause, and then hot breath drifted over my neck. “Seeing you lying there, skin gleaming, I’m turned on. My cock is hard enough to hammer nails, and it’s because of you.” His whisper tickled my ear and I forgot to breathe. Did he mean himself, or the character he was talking about?

  I was more turned on by Jez and his sultry voice—by his words and imagery—than I’d ever been before. My breasts were heavy and ached for attention, and I didn’t need to see my nipples, to know they were pushing against my bra.

  “Mel—my hot little Mel... The cabana boys have wandered away, so I’m turning you on your back. Jesus, your breasts are perfect.” His voice hitched. “Your nipples jut out, waiting for my touch, and your skin is like satin. I’m going to tease you with my fingers, stroking up and down and skirting around your little pink buds.”


  His hot breath whispered across the base of my throat, and I gulped. Keeping my eyes shut was harder than I thought.

  “The boys are looking after all. They can see you, lying exposed to the sun. They’re watching me. I’m not going to disappoint them.”

  “W—what are you going to do?”

  “I lean over you, place a hand on either side of your waist, and close my mouth around one nipple.”

  I jerked, as if he’d done just that.

  “Oh, you taste sweet, baby. Sweet and salty. I suck hard, and you whimper. You like me to play a little rough, but right now, I’m more about showing you off. You’ll get off, knowing somebody is watching us making out.”

  I squirmed, my panties flooding with moisture. How long would he keep this up? It was my game. At least I thought it was. But I’d surrendered every bit of control to him.

  It was the best pretend-sex I ever had.

  “Thank you. How long until dinner?”

  What? His voice was clear and business-like again. Fuck. He was talking to the flight attendant. I opened my eyes and rubbed them, pretending to yawn. Trying to get my equilibrium back.

  Jez glanced at me and winked. “More champagne?”

  “Um... yes, please.”

  “Dinner will be served in twenty minutes.” The steward opened a mini bottle of champagne and handed it to Jez, who thanked him.

  Holy crap. How much had the man heard? My cheeks heated. “Did he... hear us?”

  “I doubt it.” Jez topped up our glasses, and then set the rest of the bottle in an ice bucket at his side. “How am I doing?”

  Huh? “I don’t follow.” If pressed, I’d have to think hard to remember my own name. I wanted more of Jez and his sizzling fantasy.

  “You wanted to know how I’d seduce a stranger.” His smile was innocent. Too innocent.

  I shifted in my seat, turned on beyond belief and ready to rip off his clothes where he sat. Comprehension smacked me in the face, and I laughed in delight. “You did well. Very well.” I took a gulp of my champagne. “But we were talking about seduction on a plane, not at the beach.”