Pretending She's His: A Hard Feelings Novella (12 page)

It was. Trevor had taken it.

The warm air smothered her as she pushed the door open and stepped outside into the parking lot.

What stung the most was that today, she had started to see the truth in their little lie. She had sat on Trevor’s lap while his dad was asleep and his mom was reading a book. And she had just sat there with him. There was no fake conversation streaming between the four of them for her to keep up on. There was no need for the public display of affection at that given moment. But there she was, curled up on his lap, her head tucked under his chin, her cheek resting on his chest as she listened to the offbeat rhythm of his heart.

His arm had wrapped around her and his hand softly stroked her back. His free hand had laced with hers, and his fingers tangled around hers while his thumb ran slow circles on the inside of her wrist.

But what solidified the feeling, what tipped the scale from pretending to real, was when he turned his head and ran his nose along the side of her neck that was exposed to him, and whispered, “Thank you, baby. I’m so happy you’re here.” Then he’d pressed an openmouthed kiss to the skin beneath her jaw, his lips lingering for a few heartbeats before he rested his chin back on top of her head.

His words were so soft that only she heard them. He didn’t say it to put on a show for his parents. He said it because he meant it. He kissed her because he meant it. And he’d held her close to him . . . because he meant it. At least, that’s what she’d thought.

“Red, what the fuck are you doing?” he questioned as he stepped up next to her.

She turned to look at him through her slitted eyelids and was surprised to see that he hadn’t dragged the big-boobed blonde with him.

“Waiting for a cab.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, I’m ready to leave, Trevor. I’m tired. It’s been a long few days and I’m over it.”

His head tilted to the side as if he was trying to read her, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. But he didn’t pry. He didn’t hound her for the answers to his unspoken questions. “Okaay. Well, let me take you.”

She spun around and threw her hands out to her sides. “Dammit, Trevor. You just don’t get it! I don’t want you to take me. I don’t want to be around you right now. Go take that blonde home. I’m sure she would be thrilled with the honor. She was ready to jack you off under the fucking table, for crying out loud.” She turned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What the . . . are you kidding me . . .” He scrubbed his hands over his face as he walked in a circle around Eva. “Is that why you’re pissed? Fuck, Eva,” he said. Then without warning, he circled his arms under her ass and threw her over his shoulder.

“Put me down.” She didn’t raise her voice, or shriek, or pout. But her words contained as much anger as she could possibly muster up. “Now.”

“Sorry, Red. You’re being ridiculous. I’m driving you.” He opened the driver’s door to his truck and tossed her inside then scooted in next to her. The engine roared to life as he turned the key. “Put your seat belt on,” he demanded.

Latching the seat belt across her lap, she turned and faced the window. Okay, so now she was pouting . . .

After about ten minutes of complete silence, Trevor pulled into the motel and parked his truck. “Talk to me,” he said but it was almost desperate—a plea.

She unbuckled and shifted in her seat to face him. “What do you want, Trevor? Do you want me to pretend that seeing that fucking blonde basically sprawled across your lap didn’t bother me? Do you want me to pretend that it doesn’t drive a knife through my chest every time you flip the switch and go back to being just my friend? Because that’s what I’ve been doing! I’ve been pretending this whole fucking time, Trevor, and I’m done!”

“Pretending what?” he shouted back at her.

Shaking her head, she threw open the door and slammed it behind her.

***

Trevor hurried after Eva as she jogged up the flight of stairs that led to her motel room. “Eva, wait!” he called out. But she didn’t stop or slow down.

He stepped off of the last step and ambled toward Eva as she fumbled around in her purse for her key. “I was pretending too.”

Her hands stilled inside her purse and she lifted her eyes to him.

He took the last small step, closing the distance she had created between them. “Do you know how hard it is for me to be near you and not touch you, or kiss you, or pull you against me?” he asked.

She inhaled a sharp breath.

“Every second that I was holding you, every kiss I pressed against your body, your lips, and every word I said to you while we were pretending, was real. I didn’t know it was going to feel that way. I didn’t realize
I
was going to feel that way”—he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek—“but I do.”

She shook her head infinitesimally and pulled the key card out of her purse and opened the door. Pressing his palm against the door to prevent it from shutting on him, he followed Eva inside.

She dropped her purse on the desk near the door and turned on her heel, her eyes targeting him with anger. “I don’t know what’s real anymore. The way I feel—the way I feel about you—” she paused, looking to the floor before raising her gaze back to him. “Our lies are woven so tightly together. And then there’s you—the big flirt, the sweet, overprotective, touch-feely friend—the Trevor I’ve known for years. Then there’s the Trevor I got a glimpse of—the one who makes me feel like he sees me and could never get enough. The one that makes me feel something I’ve never felt before. Something real. And I can see the difference between the two—I just don’t know which one is the real Trevor when I’m around.”

Taking the final stride between them, he stopped in front of her and grabbed on to her hips with both hands, pulling her small body against him. “Then let me show you what’s real,” he whispered as he leaned his face in close to hers.

Moving his hands to her hair, lacing his fingers through the curly tufts, he tilted her head back, and kissed her.

She opened her mouth for him, inviting him in, and he accepted. His lips moved over hers, slow and deliberate. He was going to show her what was real, what he felt, until there was no doubt in her mind.

He walked toward the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress, then he lowered her onto it. He stood above her and peeled the shorts from her body, staring down at the thin lace that covered her.

Dropping to the bed, he ran his mouth over the lace, breathing her in, swiping his tongue against her opening, tasting her through the thin fabric.

There was not one part about the way he was feeling as he touched her that wasn’t sincere. The way she felt as her body writhed beneath him was a feeling that he would never get enough of. He just needed to prove to her how he felt, so he would never have to know what it felt like to want something so fucking much and not being able to have it. Because he wanted her. All of her, every part of her. He wanted her mouth, her body, her pain-in-the-ass attitude. And he wanted her heart. And he wanted it all to himself—forever.

***

There was a small part of her that hesitated. A part of her that was afraid to venture into the pile of feelings that she was having. But a bigger part of her was so consumed with the way Trevor’s hands felt moving over her now-naked body that she didn’t care about her fear. Right now, she would take Trevor any way he would give her.

She had peeled her shirt over her head as he stood to remove his own clothing and now she was lying in front of him, experiencing a new side of Trevor. The side of him that was everything she never wanted in a man. Possessive, hungry, consuming. He was showing her how he felt, giving himself to her in a way she had never wanted from anyone else before. And as absolutely terrifying as it was—she wanted it. She wanted all of it.

His hard chest pressed against her, his warm skin connecting with her own heated body, cascading a ripple of electric heat through her veins. She’d never known a touch to feel like his. It was more than just pleasure. It was more than just sexy. It was sensual, it was intimate—it was real.

“Touching you like this,” he said as he ran his large hand up the inside of her thigh, “is something I have thought about doing to you since I first met you,” he admitted. “I just never thought it would
feel
like this.”

His fingers brushed over her clit briefly before he continued moving them up her stomach, and she shuddered when they left her sensitive and craving more.

Latching on to her collarbone, he sucked gently. “When did it become real?” she asked breathlessly. She wasn’t sure if she was asking him or herself.

He lifted his head and smiled at her, pushing the stray strands of hair away from her face. His gray eyes hardened over with need—a need that she easily reciprocated.

He laughed. “When I pulled your wet body onto mine in the hammock. You were nervous and embarrassed.”

“I was not,” she lied.

“You were, baby. But I knew when you pressed your lips to mine, that I wasn’t kissing you for anybody other than you. I wanted you to feel me, I wanted you to lose yourself against me. I was kissing you because I wanted you. Because it was real.”

She closed her eyes as his mouth hovered over hers, a small sliver of cool air separating his lips from touching hers. She lifted her hands and drew them down his naked back, reveling in the feel of his muscles flexing beneath her fingertips. Moving over her, his hips nestled between her thighs, and his hard cock easily sank into her—just barely, just enough to pull a moan from her chest at the delicious way she stretched around him.

Then he lowered his hips, and filled her until she was taking all of him. A sharp gasp left her lungs from the pleasure she felt having him covering her body with his, feeling him slowly moving inside her.

His hand slid to her neck and he rubbed the path along her lips, down her jaw, and to her ear with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve always loved you, Eva,” his said, looking into her eyes like they were a magnet to his dark metal irises. “But now, I’m
in
love with you.”

His lips fell to hers as their bodies moved in sync with each other, passion and love weaving a tight pattern that would shape their relationship together from here forward. Because they weren’t pretending anymore. It was real—for both of them.

She was his.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A big thank-you to everyone who read
Feel the Rush
and begged for more Eva. I love Eva, she was so much fun to write and I’m so happy that you all loved her as much as I did.

Jesse Feldman, the best editor, whom I absolutely love working with—insert cheesiness here—I can’t thank you enough! It’s been so great to work with you on these stories and to see them unfold between the two of us into characters and stories that I love!

My agent, Jill Marsal, as always, thank you for your continued support and guidance!

I want to thank Kim Karr for bouncing ideas around with me. You are an amazing writer and I value your opinion. And I’m so thankful to have sparked a friendship with you!

Denise Sprung, thank you for your honest feedback and your enthusiasm for my stories. I love chatting with you and I always appreciate your help!

My ladies, who would have known my stories would create new friendships for me? I adore and appreciate you more than you know. Thank you for reading, sharing, pimping, and encouraging!

And an enormous thank-you to my friends and family who continue to encourage and support me while I chase this amazing dream.

Missed the first book in Kelsie Leverich’s
New York Times
bestselling Hard Feelings series? Read on for an excerpt from

THE VALENTINE’S ARRANGEMENT

Available now from InterMix

Three more days and this hearts and flowers shit would be over. Three more days and the boxes of chocolates filled with things that should definitely not be paired with chocolate would be cleared from the shelves, the cheesy “Be Mine” balloons would deflate, and those damn stuffed gorillas, holding giant hearts, singing “Wild Thing,” would be put to rest.

It was almost Valentine’s Day in Watertown, New York, and the typical achromatic atmosphere at Fort Drum was replaced with shades of pinks and reds, complete with love banners and window decorations filled with hearts and chubby babies holding arrows. It was Ronnie Clark’s personal week of hell.

Needless to say, Ronnie was not a fan of the lovey-dovey mushy shit; in fact, that was putting it graciously.

It was getting late, and Ronnie was listening to the soft tick of the second hand on her watch as she softly pressed the needle dipped in black ink into the hip of some lovesick barracks brat who had finally landed herself a private. You would think these girls would learn, right? Soldiers are lonely, and yes, they look damn good in uniform, but the young, single ones are dangerous. They fall hard and fast and pull you in with their puppy-love eyes and promises of forever. These girls know it too; they are looking for it, and once they find it, it’s a ring on the finger, a judge-officiated ceremony, and more often than not, it’s matching ink declaring their love for one another. Blah blah blah . . .

“All right, Kara, I’m almost done with this locket. Are you sure you want me to put Craig’s name under it? Names are not fun to cover up, and I charge double to do it. I’m giving you your chance now,” she said as she wiped the ink on Kara’s hip, smearing it across the Celtic locket. Branding was not Ronnie’s thing, but in this town, she was lucky if she went an entire workweek without getting stuck doing at least one.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She narrowed her eyes at Ronnie before she turned them to her eager new husband, who was holding her hand.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ronnie mumbled under her breath. Oh, how she wished she could just slap some sense into this girl. Sure, Craig was every shade of hot, and even Ronnie had an image of him without his uniform on begging to be brought to the forefront of her mind, but he was not tattoo worthy. No man was. No man was that damn permanent.