“Is this your room?” Sage asks as I click on the light to the large bedroom at the end of the massive hall.
“This is my childhood bedroom,” I reply as we both step inside. I shut the door behind us, mostly to get five minutes to breathe and step out of our roles. Although, to be honest, stepping in and out of the fake-dating scenario feels less and less like much of a change at all.
“Oh wow,” she says as she scans the room, walking to each wall to examine the photos hanging there. Most of them are of me and my brothers in various stages of our lives. “Look at how cute you were,” she says with a smile as she comes across one of me when I was twelve, holding baby Isaac on my lap.
I remember that day when Mom and Dad brought him home. After feeling like the odd one out with the twins for so long, I finally had a brother to myself. Or at least that’s how it felt. It was my job to protect him, to keep him safe, to be his equal.
Subtly in the back of my mind, I wonder if I failed him—a thought that’s plagued me since the day he left. I never realized in all of my years that the one person I was supposed to protect him from was our own father. Now I have no idea if he’s safe or alive or happy. He might as well be dead, but even with death, we get closure. When Isaac ran away, all we got was emptiness.
Sage turns back toward the bed and stares at it with a smile, distracting me from my gloomy thinking. “How many girls did you feel up on that bed?”
I laugh. “Zero.”
“Bullshit,” she says, cackling. “You guys have your own fucking wing in this ginormous house and you never once brought a girl in here?”
I can’t hide my mischievous smirk as I drop my ass onto the mattress. “Okay…two. But that’s it.”
She sits next to me with a teasing smile. “That’s disappointing.”
“I know, but back then, all I wanted was to be like my father. I thought I was on the right path.”
It’s quiet for a moment as she lets out a sigh and then places a hand on my thigh. “I’m sorry for causing a scene at dinner. There’s nothing wrong with saying grace. I was just trying to piss him off.”
“You did just that,” I reply with a lopsided grin. “Your grace was just fine, and you don’t need to apologize. But, Sage…” I turn my head to face her. “Is it true you’ve never sat down at a family dinner?”
She lets out a huff and avoids my eyes. Then she leans back on her elbows. “Sort of. I had a friend in high school who used to invite me over to dinner. We sat at a table like that. Sometimes Gladys and I eat together too.”
“What about your family?” I ask, leaning down on my side beside her.
“My mother had me when she was really young and when I was in high school, she remarried and had a few more kids. Her new husband was an asshole, and he hated me, so I emancipated myself at seventeen and moved away. Then, we just…lost touch. It’s sort of sad how easily she was able to let me go.”
My heart lurches as she speaks.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. As she turns toward me, our eyes meet and our faces are impossibly close. I let my gaze trail from her stunning blue eyes, down the gentle slope of her button nose, to the ring in her lip. And I find myself swallowing, almost as if…I’m nervous.
The tension grows as we stare at each other from just a few inches apart. And just when it feels unbearable, she turns away.
“I’m not gonna lie, Church Boy. It’s a little weird that your parents have kept your room so immaculate after all this time.”
I let out a sigh and shift on the bed. “It’s my mother. She thinks we’re going to need it again someday. So she keeps all of our rooms the way they were when we left. Even Isaac’s.”
Her eyes find mine again, and I instantly regret bringing him up. Please don’t ask me about him.
“Want to film a scene?” she asks, and I stare at her with confusion. Just like that, she breaks the tension.
“In here?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of hot. Fucking in your childhood bedroom.”
Blood rushes to my cock at the mere thought of getting to actually fuck her in here like we’re teenagers. “No…” I say, glancing at the door. “Someone could walk in, so let’s keep our clothes on.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Now I really feel like some girl you snuck into your room.”
A laugh bursts through my lips. “Just a couple of horny teenagers.”
“So let’s make out. I’ll let you feel me up like you did with those girls from high school.”
“Seriously?” Suddenly she’s asking to make out with me? Where the fuck did this come from?
Then she holds up her phone. “For the viewers.”
Oh. Of course.
For the viewers.
Jesus, Adam. Get your head on right.
“Sure,” I reply casually.
With excitement, she scoots up the bed until her head is near the pillows. Then she turns on her camera and places it on the nightstand, finding a good angle before lying down on her back and waiting for me.
Something about this feels wrong and right at the same time. I mean, there’s no way to really fake making out so, like it or not, this will be real.
The sight of her lying on my bed, waiting for me, is something I’d like to etch in my memory forever. I can’t even remember the names of the girls I kissed here twenty years ago, but I’ll remember the way Sage is looking at me right now, in that black bralette and green skirt forever.
After taking a mental picture, I crawl over Sage’s body and nestle myself between her legs. With a smile, she whispers, “Action.”
But I don’t kiss her, not right away. Instead, I brush a tendril of hair off her cheek with my thumb, and I stare into her eyes for a moment. And I think about that moment at dinner when she thanked me during the grace, and I can’t help myself.
“Was that real?” I ask.
Her face falls. “What?”
“When you thanked me during grace for showing you what a good man is? Were you being truthful?”
Recognition dawns on her face. And it takes her a moment to answer.
Fuck, I’m an idiot. Of course it wasn’t real, you moron. After everything you’ve done to her and how you’ve used her, why would she thank you for that?
Without an answer from her, I start to climb off, but she wraps a leg around my hips and holds me in place. Then she runs a hand across my cheek and down to the nape of my neck.
“Yes, of course it was truthful, Adam.”
I don’t care if she’s lying. I really don’t care.
Without another word, I dive in, pressing my lips to hers. She opens for me, and I slide my tongue between her lips, gliding against hers until she hums in response.
And I pretend it’s real.
Resting on my forearm above her head, I kiss her like I mean it. Like it’s not fake.
Her fingers grip the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer as I hungrily devour her mouth in a torrent of passion. For a moment, I forget about the phone recording us.
I just taste her. Feel her. Need her.
I suck on her bottom lip and then pull it between my teeth for a small nibble. Releasing her lip, I lick the gold ring there, and she hums again.
“Adam,” she whispers against my lips as our kiss grows more intense.
My mouth trails from her lips to her neck as she hikes her skirt up to wrap her other leg around me, pressing me against her in delicious friction. I kiss my way along the constellation drawn on her tender skin, licking every star until she is trembling in my arms.
Her tight fists drag my shirt up, finding the exposed skin of my back, clawing her nails along my rib cage in slow, torturous scratches. Following her lead, I tear down the bralette covering her tits, and once her supple breasts are exposed, I latch my mouth on the tight bud of her nipple and bite enough to make her cry out.
Her fingers scratch my scalp as she digs her nails in my hair, pulling me closer. Then I switch sides, biting the opposite nipple until goose bumps appear along every inch of her skin. My cock is painfully hard as I grind it against her.
There is too much fucking fabric in our way, or so my dick says.
But I’ve lost touch with reality somewhere. This isn’t happening. I’m not going to fuck her here on my childhood bed with my family just downstairs.
I’m not going to fuck her anywhere. Because this is all for show. She and I will never truly be together like that. Never.
Even if this feels so good and right.
“Peaches,” I whisper against her skin as my mouth trails back up to her mouth.
“Yes?” she breathes.
“Tell me this is real.” I bite my way along her jawline, up to her earlobe, but she doesn’t answer right away. It’s stupid of me to even ask this, but I need to hear her say it. I need to know it’s not just me. “Tell me you feel it too.”
She hesitates, and I nearly lose hope. But then she drags my hand between her legs, pressing my fingers to the moist center of her panties, and I get my answer. “Feel how real it is.”
A low, hungry growl of need and overwhelming lust climbs from my throat, and I’m already pulling her panties aside, ready to feel her arousal for myself when there’s a knock on the door.
My hand freezes as I pull my body away from hers. She stares up at me with worry in her eyes as my brother’s voice calls through the door.
“Hey, Adam, Mom is looking for you.” It’s Luke.
“Thanks,” I reply loudly. “Be right out.”
There’s a chuckle from the hallway as he retreats down the hall, and I glance down at Sage before we both break into a fit of laughter.
“Now I really feel like a teenager.”
“Me too,” she replies with a blush on her cheeks.
After I climb off of her, averting my eyes from her while she shimmies her skirt back into place and I rearrange the hard-on in my pants, I realize just how close we got to crossing the line.
We set rules to stop ourselves from doing this, but when we’re in the moment, it’s so hard to say no to what we really want.
We take a moment to compose ourselves, mostly to wait for my dick to soften before we walk back out to the living room, where my family is waiting. Everyone is there but my father, who generally retreats to his office rather than socialize with the rest of us. Normally, I’m there to join him.
“Your father asked for you to come to his office,” my mother says with a cup of tea in her hands.
As I stare at her, seeing something heavy behind the facade of comfort in her eyes, I decide to shake my head.
“Sage and I have to get going.”
Her expression changes. I don’t know if it’s alarm or surprise, but she looks slightly unsettled as she processes the fact that I’m disobeying him. Even at thirty-seven, I’m ignoring his request. Something I’ve never done in my life, at least not until lately.
Without another word, she stands from her chair. “Okay, sweetie. Another time then.”
She gives me a tight hug, tighter than before, and I wish for the first time that I could have an honest conversation with my mom. I wish I could tell her the truth about my father.
But I can’t. Not yet. So I accept her hug and watch as she embraces Sage after me.
“It was so lovely to have you,” my mother says to her. I’m amazed at how real it seems.
“Your lasagna was delicious and I loved being here with all of you,” Sage replies—again, selling it really well.
“Anytime, dear.”
Then Sage and I leave through the front door without another word.
“That was nice,” she says sweetly as we reach the car. “I really like your mom.”
I pause as I unlock the driver’s side. Then I glance up at her as I reply, “She likes you too. I can tell.”
Which isn’t a lie.
Sage seems pleased with this response. Warmth and pride color her features as she opens the door and climbs inside.
