Page 28 of Don't Fall For Your Fake Boyfriend

“Hell yes. Look at my guy,” Felicity shouts, twirling a boa in the air.

“Griffin,” Anya yells, laughing.

February covers her face as she laughs watching Harrison. Clara, Emma, and Shayne, the triplet’s wives, are screaming and dancing as they watch their husbands.

“Paxton, Oh my God,” Hartford shouts, laughing as he grinds against her to the beat of the song.

We continue our dance of arms up and down, hips swaying, and thrust forward as we move back and forth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lake moving closer to the front and toward Willow. I shake my head, still staying with the beat as I reach down and grab Willow’s hand. Ben said to improvise if we felt it, so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.

I hold her close to me as I continue swaying my hips and thrusting them forward—against her.

“Brock,” she whispers, her eyes darkening.

“You look fucking sexy as hell,” I say, thrusting my hips.

“Fuck yeah, Willow and Brock,” Hartford shouts as Paxton moves back to us.

I lean forward and press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth before releasing her. “I should’ve told you that earlier,” I say, moving back into position.

We all finish the dance by bending at the knees and going onto our sides, resting our heads on our hands.

The noise level from the girls is deafening as we finish. I stand up, breathing heavily as I look around. As my eyes move toward Willow, she’s stepping up to me, biting her lip.

“That was hot,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I don’t know if she’s being real or if she’s playing her part like a paid actress and fuck, I’m hoping it’s not the latter.

Because right now, nothing I’m feeling is fake.

Chapter 13

Willow

When Clara told us the guys would be dancing for us, I didn’t really know what to expect. I guess I thought I’d laugh as the men got up on the small makeshift stage and shook their asses.

What I never in a million years expected was to get turned on. Like what is wrong with me? However, when Brock stepped into the room it’s like a fuse lit between us. It traveled between us, gaining speed, until we both exploded in a want and needy mess.

Or at least I’m a needy mess.

I can’t tell how he’s feeling because he’s such a great actor. I swear he acts like he wants to devour me, but then he laughs it off when we’re alone together.

And right now? We’re in the elevator, heading up to our hotel room, in silence.

And the silence is deafening. It’s all-consuming, and I seriously want to scream. Or kiss the heck out of Brock. Either or.

“You okay?” he asks me as the elevator travels upward.

“Fine,” I peep out.

“Cool.”

This is the most awkward conversation ever. I hate it. I’d rather climb Brock like a tree. I’d rather sit on his face.

Oh my god. I blush at that thought.

Brock studies me. “Seriously, you all right?”