Oh. Whoa.
Clearly Georgie had been drugged by Boutique Tracy and this was a hallucination. She’d been silly to think Tracy forgave her so easily. Her organs were probably being harvested while she dream-kissed Travis in his bedroom. Okay, but how to account for the texture of his mouth? Texture had never been a factor in her fantasies, unless one counted those few times she’d practiced on her own hand. But she hadn’t done that since age thirteen.
Fine. Sixteen. Whatever.
In the past, she’d watched them kiss from an almost third-party standpoint, as if it played out on a movie screen. This? Right now? This was a drastic shift.
I’m kissing Travis Ford.
He tasted Georgie the way someone eats their first bite of tiramisu in a restaurant. A slow, savoring mouthful, followed by a gruff, appreciative groan. His head tipped to one side, eyes narrowing with suspicion as if maybe the kiss was a trick and she would harvest his organs if he gave in and enjoyed. But he gave in anyway, his eyes flickering with hunger. Surprise. He slid his fingers into her hair and took control of her head, angling it for himself. Their thighs pressed together . . . and he licked right in, stopping midtaste to flick their tongues together . . . before sweeping his through her mouth like a sensually destructive force.
And it definitely had that effect. For sure. Her legs turned the consistency of water; a rash of heat wove in patterns all over her skin. God, he was a lot taller than her. She’d always known that but hadn’t considered how it applied to the mechanics of kissing. Now Georgie knew his hair fell forward and mingled with her bangs, a soft intrusion in startling contrast to his mouth, which had started to move . . . faster. Oh God. Stop thinking and keep up.
Stop thinking about what the shudder in his chest meant. Or how he moved into her, until she had to balance on her toes to keep the kiss going, her head tilted all the way back, exposing her throat, making her so vulnerable. Vulnerable to the hand that left her hair and trailed down that exposed throat, a work-roughened thumb circling in the hollow—
God. That one little movement of his thumb set off fireworks below her waist. And he knew it, too, because he made an encouraging noise in his throat. One that said, Let it happen, baby girl. And she was. She was letting herself kiss Travis. How had she gotten here? Was he kissing her because he liked her? Or because she was the only one available? So many questions and all of them were being swallowed up by the sensations firing her blood, the give of Travis’s lips and how his tongue seemed to know exactly where hers would be, so he could rub them together.
Travis broke the kiss, his harsh pants leaving condensation on her mouth. “Let’s slow down some, baby girl. We didn’t, uh . . . fuck.” He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and eyed her mouth, shaking his head. “I think there’s supposed to be more buildup to what we just did.”
“You think?” Sweet Lord, his body heat was like being wrapped in warmed cashmere in front of a roaring fire. “You’re supposed to be the expert.”
He puffed a humorless laugh. “Not on kissing.”
In other words, his talents lay in the more serious sexual arts.
“Oh.” Jealousy crackled in Georgie’s belly, surprising her. She’d never been enough of a masochist to get jealous over Travis Ford. What was the point in living her life in constant flux between shades of green? This jab of unpleasantness was new but sharp. Real. Maybe it had something to do with how he looked at her, brow furrowed, a muscle bobbling in his throat. The lines of their relationship had just been irrevocably blurred, but Georgie hated the thought of him looking at someone else like that now that she’d been on the receiving end. There had been no reason to be jealous over a man who was basically an untouchable movie star to her. This man, though . . . he was just her star for now. No one else’s.
Adding the stroke of envy to this morning’s uptick in confidence . . . and Georgie found herself anxious to leave a mark. She could wake up from this dream at any moment. Or, let’s face it, Travis could lose interest, reject her fake-dating proposal, and go after someone more like Tracy. Chalk up the kiss to momentary insanity. Why shouldn’t she reach out now and grasp this chance to achieve a fantasy she’d been playing out mentally since she hit puberty?
“Show me what you’re an expert in.”
Travis stopped breathing, his hands dropping to her elbows. Holding tightly, but not pushing her away. “Georgie.” He expelled her name on a breath, but she saw something primal flare to life in his eyes. “I’ll eat you alive. No.”
“You won’t.” She tugged her arms out of his grip and—saying a prayer to whichever saint bestowed courage—reached back and unzipped her skirt. “Oh.” She frowned. “In my head, the skirt was going to drop and I was going to cock a seductive hip.”
His lips parted. “How do you do that? Make me this hot and want to laugh at the same time.”
“See, I’m teaching you something new.” She was painfully aware of the vulnerability written in her every feature. “Your turn.”
Hesitation battled with need in his expression, and it was so intoxicating up close, Georgie’s knees wobbled. “Once we find out how this feels, though . . .” His hands stayed fisted in the air beside her hips, hesitating, clenching and unclenching, before finally settling on them. “We won’t be able to forget.”
“You’re worried I’ll never forget how bad you were. I understand.”
His right eyebrow went sky-high. “Are you employing reverse psychology to get me into bed? I’m impressed.”
Georgie shrugged a shoulder. “Not bad for a virgin.”
“There it is.” He dropped his head forward. “Christ. I had a feeling you were a virgin. But I wasn’t positive.”
“Glad I could clear it up. We don’t have to—”
“We’re not.”
“Cool. But we are . . . ?”
“On-top-of-the-clothes stuff only.”
“Do panties count as clothes?”
“I don’t know. Yes.”
“Sweet.” Before she could lose her nerve, Georgie wiggled the skirt down over her hips and nudged it aside, feeling her face turn pink but staunchly ignoring it. “I’m ready.”
The world tilted when Travis picked her up by the waist, tossing her into the center of the bed like she weighed less than a feather. He crawled slowly up her body. “No. You aren’t.”
“I lie corrected,” she breathed.
“Stop being cute.” Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttoned her blouse. The entire thing in seconds with quick wrist twists. “Your bra counts as clothes, too.”
She gave a jerky nod. “You make the rules.”
“That’s right.” He surged forward and growled against her lips. “I’m no one’s entertainment anymore. You want to play? I decide how.”
Those words cut through the waves of lust plowing through Georgie. That statement was so at odds with the Travis of her memory. The arrogant baseball player who’d strutted to the batter’s box, doffing his hat to the crowd. Taking requests on which part of the outfield he should aim for. She wanted to explore the change he’d shown her now more than once.
His mouth dominated hers, leading the dance, giving no quarter. Almost as if he wanted to scare her off. His body said he needed her, though. To Georgie, inexperienced or not, Travis had all the classic signs of an aroused male. And Georgie was an expert now, because she’d thumbed through the issue of Cosmo today in between fittings at the boutique. Dilated pupils. Harsh breathing. Most importantly, a growing bulge behind his fly. Oh my God. Travis is on top of me with a hard penis. This is happening.
“Goddammit, Georgie. Don’t zone out on me.”
“I’m not. I’m zoning in. Way in.”
His forehead fell into the crook of her neck. The feeling was so nice, her thighs seemed to lift automatically to wrap around his hips. Travis liked that. He gave a closed-mouthed moan and shifted between her legs. “I’ve got no fucking right to be between these legs.”
“You do. I gave it to you.” That last word ended in a gasp when Travis’s teeth grazed her shoulder, his waist rolling into the cradle of her hips at the same exact moment. “Oh wow.”
“Try to sound a little less innocent while I get you off,” he rasped beside her ear, catching her lobe with his teeth. “How about that?”
“Yes, Travis.”
This name she’d said thousands of times in her life sounded entirely different in a threadbare voice with the insides of her knees resting against his rib cage. Head to toe, she trembled, turned on by his expert abrasiveness, her belly hollowing on a long shudder, her toes curling, nipples peaking. God help her, there was something kind of hot about Travis’s self-directed anger. This man had a will of steel and the focus of a world-class athlete, but apparently he’d lost a battle with himself over her. Her. She couldn’t turn off the excitement, no matter how hard she tried.
“Yes, Travis,” he echoed, shifting his hips slowly. Making her squirm. “Why weren’t you agreeable all those times I told you to go home?”
“I’m selectively agreeable.”
That smart-ass comment earned her a rough punch of his hips. “Look where it got us. You had to keep reminding me how nicely you grew up. Now we’re halfway to fucking.”
Oh my God. Her head spun, Travis’s face blurring into two, then fusing back together. Was she seriously supposed to have a conversation while this gorgeous, filth-spewing man rocked between her thighs? “I told you to go home once, too,” she said in a rush. “I left you alone. This isn’t all my fault.”
She’d thought the hard kisses Travis was giving her were mind-blowing, but the slow one he laid on her just then had her seeing stars. “The quiet got too loud once you’d come and gone.” Another long kiss that left her gasping. “How dare you.”
Before she could address that, he reversed their positions. Her equilibrium spent a few seconds off kilter, her body yearning to be pressed down. Hard. And she might have said something to that effect out loud, because Travis cursed and closed his eyes, hands flexing on her hips.
“Move up a little, baby girl.”
Baby girl. She loved when he called her that. Probably because he winced every single time, like he couldn’t control the endearment. Her knees inched up the bed and she settled in again on Travis’s lap—“Oh.” She fell forward, catching herself on his shoulders. “Th-that’s . . .”
“Mmm.” He lifted her up with his hips, bouncing her once. “Feel my cock, Georgie?”
Uh, yeah. The giant appendage that made Georgie feel like she was sitting on a full aluminum foil roll? “Yes, I feel it.”
His big hands smoothed down the cheeks of her backside, sending a crazy intense ripple down her middle, culminating at her sex. “Close your eyes and do what you want with it.”
A whimper wrenched itself from her throat. “I don’t know what I want to do with it.”
“Yes, you do.” His arm came up fast, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck to draw Georgie down for a slow, wet kiss. “Virgin or not, you’ve thought about riding this dick or you wouldn’t have dropped your skirt for me. Tell me I’m right.”
Oh, she’d thought of it only about four hundred thousand times. “Y-you’re right.”
He gave an openmouthed groan. “Then ride it so I forget touching you makes me a bastard.” Travis’s hands found her bottom again, fingers sliding under the edge of her new panties to get a good grip on her flesh. “Maybe you need a little help.” Breath coming fast, he began rocking her up and back. And Lord. Lord. She’d consoled herself for years that her vibrator was as good as any man, but she’d been wrong. There was no substitute for feeling a man’s arousal against her thin, wet panties. Or hearing him grit a curse when she angled back and pressed her clit to the denim fly of his jeans, rubbing shamelessly, as she was doing now.
She wanted to see more of him, so she dragged his T-shirt up to his neck and exposed his abdomen. The bunched pecs decorated with flat brown nipples. Why pretend not to appreciate the sight when it was obvious, by her pumping hips, that she appreciated his physique very much? Travis knew how his body affected her, too. It was there in the glazed eyes he locked on her. He dragged his tongue across his lower lip and flexed his stomach for her, making his pecs jump. Holy. Sweet. Jesus. Yeah, there was still some of the cocky man left behind and he was bananas hot. Her whole body felt fevered and alive, watching the ridges of his muscles dance just for her. But even as she gripped his huge shoulders and worked herself on his fly, the orgasm continued to hang in the distance. Just out of reach.
“Come on, baby girl,” Travis gritted. “We’re on the same team. We both want to get rid of our aches. Need to take care of yours first, but those little hips of yours have got me real fucking close.”
Oh God. Oh wow. That admission almost did it. Almost teetered her over the edge. She was making Travis have an orgasm. And despite her inexperience, she’d seen enough of the internet to know men didn’t usually climax with their pants on. That had to be good. Her thighs were trembling violently and the flesh between her legs clenched, clenched, but didn’t give that final almighty spasm. Why? Why? She couldn’t help but close her eyes and picture Travis above her, pressing her down. Demanding control of the situation. Of her.
“I see you,” he rasped. “Dammit, Georgie. You had to be exactly what I need, didn’t you?”
In a split second, she was on her back, with a big, horny man taking up her whole world. Filling every available inch of her vision. Caging her in. He jerked down the cups of her bra and sucked her left nipple into his mouth. Georgie cried out. A sticky, zapping ball of wicked energy gathered in Georgie’s midsection, tightening, tightening. She couldn’t breathe or think. Was that her whimpering Travis’s name?
“You like me on top, don’t you, baby girl?” Travis’s hips rammed into the cradle of her thighs, his erection finding and pressing right where she needed, all while this man released an unforgivable and amazing stream of filth beside her ear. “Whining and shaking on top of me, showing me how hot you’d be to fuck, but baby girl can’t seal the deal on her own. Can you? Need to be held down and told to come while I’m riding your pretty panties, don’t you? Well, go on.” Travis worked his hips in a rough figure eight, coming back to land on Georgie’s most sensitive area. Eyes clenched shut, sweat dotting his brow, Travis powered through a quick string of thrusts, the movements so close together and rough, Georgie’s teeth clacked together. “Telling me you don’t know what to do with my cock. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you need it used on you.”
“Use it on me,” she pushed through numb, trembling lips. “Need it.”
Travis’s moan hung in the air as he lunged for her neck, dragging his tongue up the side, pressing his teeth beneath her ear. Her wrists were jerked up over her head and pinned and it happened. An earthquake. Her orgasm obliterated her, twisting her loins like a pretzel and squeezing while her legs fought for purchase against the overwhelming nature of it.
“Christ, Georgie. Look at you. Feel you.” Travis’s mouth pushed into her hair, his lower body continuing its slow, insistent grind against hers. “Watching you come so sweet in my bed. What the fuck am I going to do now, huh?”
With her flesh seized up and pulsing through the most intense climax of her life, she was incapable of answering, but one train of thought plowed through like a piercing whistle. Please him back. Please him back. “Travis,” she managed, dropping her legs open and circling her hips. “You need me.”
Sexual pain slashed across his face, his body growing rigid. “Baby girl. I pump against this pussy one more time and I’m not coming anywhere but balls deep. Those panties are history. You hear me? You see how fucked up I am?”
“Yes . . .” Was this normal? Did his control always snap eventually? It was too much to hope for that it only happened with her, but she could pretend. She could pretend she was the only thing standing between Travis and insanity. “Find a way,” she breathed.
If Georgie took one thing away from her first sexual encounter, it would be that she’d only scratched the surface of herself. Yes, her fantasies had always been rough in nature and she’d never been able to achieve an orgasm without imagining that gradual release of control, but when Travis sat back on his knees and flipped her over onto her stomach, the sensation of handing herself over to Travis robbed her of common sense. Her orgasm had ebbed, but this desire to please him seemed almost . . . mental. Like she could hear and answer his thoughts and needs with her body.
Georgie watched through tunnel vision as Travis leaned over her back and removed something from his nightstand. She’d never seen him like this. Jaw clenched, muscles bunched. Tense. So tense. His erection pushed against the fly of his jeans, looking painful. He’d fully removed his shirt and a light sheen of sweat covered his shoulders and stomach, turning her on all over again. My God, he’s almost too sexy.
That was her final coherent thought before Travis moved behind her again. A tick of the clock passed. Two. And then his fingers slipped beneath the back panel of her silk high-cut bikini briefs, gathering the material together between her cheeks. Tugging. Some might call it a wedgie, but she’d had her fair share of those and this . . . was not like one of those. Just the knowledge that Travis was touching her underwear made Georgie grow damp all over again. Once the purple silk was gathered at the center of her backside, those rough hands moved to her flesh, molding it with a grunt.
“Christ Almighty. Where have you been hiding this ass?”
She wasn’t given a chance to answer. There was a snap behind her, like a bottle opening, followed by a liquid sound. With her heart going wild in her throat, Georgie waited, gasping into the comforter when a thick layer of moisture was smoothed over her bottom by skilled hands, some of the drops landing on the material gathered down the middle. “What is that?” Georgie whispered, her body moving on autopilot, hips tilting to offer herself to him more completely.
“You told me to find a way.” Travis’s voice rasped low at her ear, his body settling on top of her, his thick, flexing thighs on either side of her hips. “Can’t keep working over that pussy without finding out how tight it really is. And the panties have to stay on—”
“That’s your rule, not mine.”
He clapped a hand over her mouth, releasing a low curse when it made her whimper, her lower body shifting excitedly on the bed. “I should send you home with your shiny, new orgasm, but I’m not that kind of man, Georgie.” His right hand released her mouth and slid beneath her hips, massaging her sensitive flesh through her wet panties. “I’m the kind who’s about to use your ass to get off and come on your back. I’m too hot to give a sweet fuck that you’re my friend’s little sister right now. And that should bother you.”
“Shut up,” she whispered, lust weaving up her spine, turning her from awkward girl to desirable woman. Her ass lifted of its own accord, writhing against the hard denim ridge. “I want everything you said. I’m saying yes. Please don’t stop.”
His body flattened hers. Hard. Breath whooshed from her lungs. It was difficult to hear Travis’s zipper being yanked down over the rattling of her pulse, but she grasped the noise and savored what she’d actually managed to drive a man to. A sexually experienced man. Travis.
When his flesh slapped down between her cheeks, Georgie’s mouth fell open, her hands twisting in the comforter. Hot air puffed from his mouth into the cradle of her neck, followed by a long groan as his hips began to roll. The movements started off as seeking, testing drives, but they didn’t stay that way for long. Soon enough, Travis’s hands sank into the bedclothes right alongside hers, his erection tunneling up and back through the split of her backside in rough grinds. Every drive of his hips was accompanied by a guttural sound that became Georgie’s reason for living on the spot. She opened her thighs wide as she could and offered herself up like a sacrifice.
And Travis accepted it. Unapologetically.
They weren’t having sex, but their bodies mimicked the act in the most desperate fashion, sweat building on their skin, their heavy breathing filling the room. God, what would it be like to have him pumping and snarling at her like this while his flesh actually filled her? Would she survive that? Her loins were beginning to tighten again, just from the slick friction of their lower bodies, aided by the liquid he’d applied, Travis’s chest and stomach muscles roaming up and down her back, his pace picking up, up, up . . . until she had to hold on for dear life or get thrown off the bed.
“This what you like, baby girl? Flashing me this ass and making me hungry for it?”
“Yes,” she whimpered, tilting her hips as far as they would go . . . and oh God. Travis adjusted his manhood and surged forward again, letting that thick arousal drag along the front of her panties, muttering for her to get her ass up. Up. When she complied, he tucked himself flush between her thighs and ground forward right on top of her clit. “Oh please, oh please.”
His hand wrapped around the bunched material between her bottom cheeks, using it as leverage to keep her still while he bucked, the mattress springs squeaking beneath them. “Might be a virgin, but you’ve been dreaming about fucking for a while, haven’t you?” His hips dropped down on top of Georgie’s hard, his hand tucking back beneath her to rub her clit with rough circles, his lower body never ceasing in its powerful drives. “This is it, baby girl. Down and dirty like goddamn animals. Getting off however we can. That’s all I know how to do.”
“No,” she managed, the onslaught of sensation making her voice seem distant. “Y-you can do anything.”
Travis gave a hoarse groan into her neck and bore down on her clit with two stiff fingers, his hips starting to move in disjointed patterns. “Go on. Soak those panties one more time. I want you too messy to go back out in public. Straight home in that skirt, baby girl.”
Was it the command that set her off? Or his touch? Georgie didn’t know or care, could only scream into the mattress as her flesh pulled again and again in rhythmic waves. Hot fluid landed on the small of her back a moment later, the sound of Travis’s broken growl echoing off the walls. Her orgasm lifted in intensity at the proof of his satisfaction, her pelvis grinding against the mattress, not a drop of shame to be found anywhere.
“Look at you,” Travis said, voice unnatural. His hand came down and laid a resounding smack on Georgie’s buttocks, starting a ringing in her head, sending bone-deep fulfillment coursing through her. “How dare you make me come this hard with your fucking panties on.” He squeezed the spanked flesh, then gave it a final, lighter slap. “How am I ever going to look at you again, without knowing how bad you need this?”
Sensing they were done, Georgie waited for Travis to clean off her back with his discarded T-shirt, then flopped her boneless body down on the bed and rolled over. He was in an upright kneel, tucking his still impressive flesh into his jeans before zipping up. Exhaling. The trenches in his forehead made her nervous. When would he look at her? She needed to get a read on him after what they’d done. Travis was a notorious anti-commitment flag bearer, so she definitely wasn’t expecting a declaration of . . . like . . . She didn’t expect anything, did she?
His guarded expression told her to keep it light. If this never happened again, there was a slight possibility they could go back to how things were before. At least for Travis. As for her phony-relationship proposal, there was a good chance she’d just made it impossible. The plan had been to keep things platonic. None of the perks. But they’d just hard-core perked.
“So I thought porn-star sex had way more camera angles,” she managed, blowing some hair out of her face. “I didn’t even get to see the money shot.”
That surprised a low laugh out of him. “Trust me, it was professional quality.” He shook his head while looking her over. “Come here.”
Her heart ramped up to a hundred miles per hour. “Why?”
“We don’t have to get up right away—” He cut himself off with an impatient noise. “Quit asking questions and get over here.”
There was no help for her enthusiasm. With the prospect of being held by Travis—both of them half naked—excitement sprung up inside her like a geyser. She sat up and threw her arms around him, toppling them sideways onto the pillows. Obviously, she’d caught him off guard, but he recovered with an exasperated sigh that ruffled her hair. Seeming at odds with himself, he eventually wrapped an arm around the small of Georgie’s back, tugging her into the warmth of his chest.
“A few minutes won’t hurt,” he muttered, seemingly to himself.
She nuzzled into his chest hair to hide her smile.
At least ten minutes passed while they lay there. A clock ticked in the distance, matching the drum of Travis’s heart against her ear. Every time he shifted, she thought the cuddling was over—and it seemed like Travis did, too. That he was surprised to find his fingertips trailing up and down her back, his chin dropping on top of her head. She’d thought of basking in Travis’s strong arms millions of times, but the reality made those fantasies seem silly in comparison. This was a real-life man with complications. A past. A future taking shape.
I’m no one’s entertainment anymore.
Was that how he’d been treated? Was that how she’d thought of him before he came home?
Acting on impulse, she laid a kiss in the center of his chest and felt his heartbeat falter. “Sometimes when I do parties, I try to start a conversation with one of the parents, but I can tell they just want me to go entertain the kids. It’s like this really stiff smiling, nodding hint to get back to work. To doing what I’m good at.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Do you think I’m more than a clown?” She swallowed. “Professionally and . . . figuratively.”
He ran a hand down her hair. “Of course I do, Georgie.”
Cool relief slipped beneath her skin. “See? People can be wrong. They can treat you one way when you deserve another, but it’s their fault. Not yours.” His frame was beginning to stiffen against her, so she rushed to finish. “I’m sorry if you were treated like less than you are.”
For several heavy beats, he didn’t move or breathe. “All right,” he said finally, removing his arms from around Georgie and rolling onto his back. “That’s enough.”
Georgie banished the pinch of hurt. “Don’t be so romantic.”
He stacked his hands behind his head. “You’ve got the wrong man for that.”
“I know.” She sat up, perching on the edge of the mattress with crossed legs. “I know you’re not romance guy. I don’t expect anything.” She looked back at him over her shoulder. “That’s why our arrangement will be perfect.”
“Are you out of your mind, Georgie?” A harsh, humorless laugh left his mouth. “After what just happened, you think that’s actually an option? No. Jesus, I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to look your brother in the eye again.”
Irritation ripped through Georgie. Where before she’d been a tranquil pond, a stone had just been hurled right into the center of it. “Oh, you know what? Forget it.” She lunged off the bed and pulled on her clothes, searching the floor of his bedroom for her shoes. “I just had the most adult experience of my life and I’m still just someone’s little sister, aren’t I? Get back to being a clown, Georgie. Screw that.”
“Now hold on just a goddamn minute.”
Travis climbed off the bed and Georgie backed up into the bedroom doorway, out of sheer self-preservation. Wearing nothing but jeans and bed head, he was a magnetic, sexual authority. If he asked her to get back in bed, she would forget her anger and do it in a second. No denying it.
“There are rules for this kind of thing and they would apply even if you were fucking forty, baby girl. Don’t you dare get pissed at me.”
“Too late.” She left the bedroom, determined to be out the front door before Travis could follow. That turned out to be wishful thinking since he caught up with her two steps later. His hand curled around her elbow, whirling her around. Was that a flash of panic she’d seen in his eyes before he hid it?
“You want to fake date so everyone will stop thinking of you as a kid—”
“And you can get your job.”
“Fine. Let’s do it.” Expression serious, he pointed back at the bedroom. “But that can’t happen again. We’re not going to confuse what this is. If we have sex, someone will get confused.”
“Just admit it. You’re talking about me.”
“Yeah, fine. I’m talking about you.” He stepped close enough that she could smell his light sweat, the musk of what they’d done. Along with his proximity, the smell was like a caress between her legs. And how annoying that he could turn her on even while being condescending. “I have no problem walking away from a few hookups and never looking back. You don’t know yet if you’re capable of that.” His eyes closed. “Christ, I shouldn’t even be considering this.”
Maybe he was right. Georgie tried to imagine what it would be like, dating Travis in public and spending time in his bed. When he got the job and it all ended, it would hurt if—when—he dropped her. What if the real Travis she’d only begun to scratch the surface of . . . turned out to be equally as incredible as superstar shortstop Travis of her dreams? It was hard to admit, but maybe he was right.
She could get hurt if they slept together. Badly.
But wasn’t it worth having respect for the rest of her life? Yes. A smidgen of pain now weighed against decades of her family, friends, and customers treating her like an adult. There was no contest. And she was a big girl. At the very least, she knew that. She could go into this arrangement with her eyes wide open and emerge mostly unscathed, couldn’t she?
“Fine. Dating. No sex. We wouldn’t want my lady brain to get confused by an orgasm. A wedding dress might magically stitch itself onto me.” Travis stared down at her with a baleful expression. “See? Ridiculous. Are you in or out?”
He dragged a hand down his face, leaving his mouth covered a moment. Considering. “The only way dating you would help me land this job would be the press getting wind of us.” Hand dropping away, his lips moved into a grim line. “I don’t like the idea of cameras following you.”
“I can handle it.”
His jaw twitched. “You realize if we want to be realistic for those cameras, we’ll have to get pretty close. It’s not going to be real.” The tone of his voice dropped. “It won’t be real when I kiss you, Georgie. And we can’t take it further. Will you remember that?”
A hole was punched in her stomach, but she garnered some bravery and stepped closer to Travis anyway. “Will you?”
It took him a moment to answer, his attention straying to her mouth. “Yes.”
“Then we have a deal,” she breathed, putting her hand out.
“Hold up. We need some fine print.” Travis crossed his arms. “My agent is working on setting up a dinner with the head of the network in a couple of weeks. When it’s over, I’ll know whether or not I have the job. There’ll be no reason to—”
“Keep this up. I understand.” Georgie wet her lips. “That should be more than enough time for everyone to reevaluate their opinion that I’m nothing more than a silly clown.” She widened her eyes and prompted him again to shake her hand. “After the dinner we end it, no muss, no fuss.”
After a few beats, his warm palm slid against hers and gripped, although his expression continued to be wary. “Deal.”
