Chapter 22

CHAPTER22

TATE

Not too sure why exactly I feel this way—let’s call it intuition—but I think my fake girlfriend is having, ah, horny feelings at the moment.

And they involve me.

My entire body is relaxed. As if I don’t have a care in the world, which is the furthest thing from the truth. Deep down, I’m amped up and anxious, worried about having to come up with a bunch of fucking great songs in a short amount of time, and I don’t know if I can do it.

The doubt and self-loathing hit me like a freight train the moment we walked onto the plane and I saw Roger sitting there, an expectant look on his face, his gaze assessing. Scarlett was seemingly oblivious, thank God. She doesn’t need to be worried about shit.

I’m the one whose entire life feels like it’s riding on this moment. This time in Los Angeles, the album, the fake relationship, all of it. One wrong move, and I could potentially fuck everything up.

My entire career—life—blowing up in my face.

The need to have a drink makes my skin itchy, but there’s nothing I can do about it. The bar in the family room is empty of any sort of alcohol, which I assume isn’t normal. I’m positive Roger made sure there wouldn’t be a single drop of liquor in this house.

Hell, I’d even roll a joint or indulge in an edible, just to get out of the fucked-up headspace I’m currently dealing with. But none of that is readily available, and deep down, I know it would be a huge mistake. I can’t be California sober, as they like to call it.

I’m either completely sober or completely wasted. There’s no in-between.

Glancing over at Scarlett, I let my gaze sweep over her, taking in all that smooth, shiny skin. The gentle flare of her hips. The flat expanse of her stomach. The sweet swell of her tits.

I know exactly what would help alleviate my stress and calm me right down.

Sex.

But would my pretend girlfriend want to have sex with me?

Probably not.

I really do get the sense that Scarlett is feeling some kind of way about me, though. Like maybe with the right words and a few persuasive moves, I could have her beneath me by the end of the evening.

A couple of orgasms later, and we’d both be floating in that pool by tomorrow morning with giant smiles on our faces.

Worry smacks me right between the eyes, and I look away from her, focusing on the pool. The rippling blue water. What if I try to make a move and she slaps me and tries to have me arrested for sexual assault? What then?

Fuck that.

Deciding I need to keep my hands to myself, I remain on the lounger and watch as she eventually gets up, settling her sunglasses on the tiny table next to her before she stretches her arms above her head. The movement causes her tits to appear like they might pop out of her bikini top at any moment, and I wait anxiously for exactly that to happen.

No such luck. They remain covered, though her hard nipples press against the fabric.

Jesus.

The bikini is a fucking killer. Hot-pink triangles barely cover her chest, and those little bottoms don’t leave much to the imagination, though I’m still curious, not gonna lie.

Is she bare under the bottoms, or does she have a nice little landing strip? I’m guessing the latter. Only because I’m pretty certain our girl Scar here is a virgin.

A few weeks ago, that would’ve meant I’d avoid her at all costs. No way would I want to be responsible for that sort of thing. Dealt with it a lot during my heyday, and there was plenty of emotional damage done.

By me.

Yeah. Not my proudest moments.

But this woman and I are legally bound in our fake relationship, and what the hell is wrong with us dabbling in sex together? I’m attracted to her. Despite the original prissy attitude and the earlier obvious disdain she felt toward me, Scarlett’s definitely come around. She’s much more relaxed around me, and that last kiss we shared was pretty fucking spectacular.

Wouldn’t mind a repeat performance—privately.

And why couldn’t it happen? We’re young. We’re attracted to each other. Hell, she used to have a raging crush on me during her formative teenage years, and I’m fairly certain she’s still interested in me. Like, I could make a move on her, and the chances are in my favor she wouldn’t say no.

I felt her gaze roaming over me earlier, when I first sat down next to her. I know she was checking me out, and fuck if my dick didn’t try to rise to the occasion thanks to her wandering eyes.

She turns her back to me, her feet curling around the edge of the pool. Her ass cheeks are hanging out of the bikini bottoms, and I run a hand over my mouth to smother my groan. This girl . . .

Is definitely trying to kill me.

With little warning and surprising grace, she quickly shifts into position and dives in the pool, barely making a splash. I watch as she glides under the water, her feet barely moving, her body sleek and sexy, until her head pops out of the water in the deep end, her hands rising to smooth her hair away from her face. She’s treading water right in front of me, and I stare at her, noting the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. Her lips are curved into an inviting smile as she says, “You should jump in.”

Her voice is soft and seductive.

Inviting.

“Oh yeah?” I act like I’m not interested.

Her eyebrows pinch together like they sometimes do, a little crease forming in between them. “It feels really good. Refreshing.”

“The water?” I’m teasing her.

“Well, yeah.” Her hand cuts through the water as she tries to splash me, and a couple of droplets hit my leg. “You should get in here.”

“Are you trying to splash me?” My eyebrows shoot up.

“Of course not.” She hits the water harder, and this time, she splashes my feet and calves, soaking the towel beneath me. “What makes you think I am?”

“Scarlett,” I say in lazy warning, enjoying this playful side to her.

“Oh, you don’t want me to splash you?” She does it again, the water now soaking me from the waist down. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t sound sorry at all. And from the expression on her face, I’d say she doesn’t appear sorry either.

“You’re asking for it.” My voice is still mild, my body relaxed. She has no idea I’m coiled tight and ready to spring on her at any given moment.

“Oooh, I’m so scared.” Another splash, and that’s it.

I’m up and off the lounger in seconds, jumping into the pool directly in front of her, making as big a splash as I possibly can. She’s squealing, trying to get out of my way, but I hook my fingers around her upper arm, pulling her in close, our bodies colliding.

Sparks fly between us despite the cool water, the undeniable attraction we share almost unbearable, yet it feels so damn good. Her silky legs tangle with mine, and without thought, I back her against the wall of the pool, pinning her there with my body so she can’t escape.

“See what happens when you keep splashing me?” My voice sounds extra deep even to me, and I give in to temptation, my hands resting lightly on her hips.

Scarlett playfully shoves at my chest with both hands, but I don’t budge. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m no fun?” I run my hand down her hip. Around her ass, teasing the leg of her bikini bottoms, my fingers streaking along the underside of her ass cheek. It’s plump and perfect. “I can think of a few ways we can have fun.”

The mood between us shifts at my words, her body going still. She keeps her head bent, so all I can see is her wet hair falling around her face, and I slip my other hand under her chin, tilting her head up so she has no other choice but to face me.

She blinks, water still clinging to her long lashes, and I’m filled with the need to kiss her.

Like the impulsive asshole that I still am, I do exactly that, pressing my mouth to hers.

She doesn’t resist. Doesn’t even so much as put up a fight. If anything, she gives in, her hands gliding up my bare chest, setting off sparks wherever she touches me. When her lips part beneath mine, allowing my tongue entry, I press more firmly against her. Wanting to feel her.

Needing her to feel me.

Scarlett sighs in surrender, and I swallow the sound, circling her tongue with mine, my hands playing with the waistband of her bikini bottoms. She lifts her legs up, wrapping them around my waist, and I slide my hands down, gripping her ass, ready to pull her in even closer⁠—

“There you kids are! Oh shit, sorry to interrupt.”

I slump against Scarlett for a moment at the sound of Roger’s familiar cackle, closing my eyes for the briefest second before I gently push away from her and turn to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d stop by and check in with you two.” Roger is grinning, his gaze only for Scarlett. I glance over my shoulder to watch her submerge herself so the water covers her from the chin down.

Smart move. Now Roger is leering almost in disappointment thanks to his view being cut off. I tread water in front of her, cutting him off from seeing her at all.

“We’re doing good,” I reassure him, glancing over my shoulder to meet Scarlett’s gaze, mouthing to her, Are you okay?

She nods, her lips curved into the smallest smile.

“I can see that. You two seem pretty cozy.” Roger’s tone is knowing.

Irritating.

Reluctantly I leave Scarlett where she is and make my way across the pool, into the shallow end.

“Just trying to cool off,” I say nonchalantly. I climb the stairs and exit the pool, heading for the lounger and grabbing my half-soaked towel. “Considering we’re together, wouldn’t you assume we’re already pretty cozy?”

He draws near when I pick up the towel and start absently wiping water away from my chest. “Cut the shit, kid. I know you two aren’t for real.”

The paperwork Scarlett and I signed is an entirely different document than the contract I signed with Irresistible. But of course Roger knows. Who the hell told him? “Just trying to give you what you want.”

“And we appreciate it, Tate. We really do. The scene you two made, with you singing to her in front of that restaurant? Pure magic, kid. Fucking social media gold. She looked like she wanted to run away with you, and you looked like you wanted to tear her clothes off and fuck her right there in the street. Couldn’t ask for anything better,” Roger says, rambling dirtily as he usually does.

“Thanks,” I say, wondering if he can even detect the sarcasm in my tone. “Why are you here, Rog?”

He glances over at where Scarlett is still treading water in the pool before he tilts his head toward the house, indicating he wants to talk to me inside. “I need to go over a few things with you.”

“Let’s go in the house,” I tell him before I check yet again on Scarlett, who’s watching us with those big doe eyes, a trace of worry in her expression. I know Roger makes her a little uncomfortable, and I can’t blame her for feeling that way. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her.

She nods. “Okay.”

Roger and I head for the house, and the moment the door is closed behind us, I’m talking. “You need to watch your mouth around Scarlett.”

Roger appears taken aback at my demand. “What’s wrong with my mouth?”

“It says some really inappropriate shit.” I rub at my chin, hating that I’m trying to be fucking serious while I stand here in my swim trunks and Roger is fully clothed. I should’ve at least pulled on a T-shirt. “And I don’t like the way you were staring at her either.”

“I can’t stare at a pretty girl when her tits are out in that bikini she’s wearing?”

Even hearing him talk about Scarlett’s tits infuriates me. “Not with Scarlett, you can’t. Back off.”

Roger studies me for a moment, slowly shaking his head. “You’re taking this boyfriend role of yours seriously.”

“I like her—I respect her,” I tell him. “And if that means I need to tell you to check yourself when you’re around her, then I will.”

Roger throws his hands up in defeat, though he’s got a grin on his face, the fucker. “Noted. I’ll watch myself.”

That was easier than I thought. “Thank you.”

He drops his hands. “But that means you also need to watch yourself. I’m the one who gave you this record deal, and if you do something I don’t like, I have the power to take it away from you. Don’t forget that.”

Anger simmers in my blood at his obvious threat. There’s the Roger I remember from near the tail end of Five Car Pileup. The one who would kiss our ass one minute and then kick it the next. This guy had a serious Jekyll-and-Hyde thing going on back then, and it looks like that hasn’t changed. “I’m not here to fight with you, Roger. I just want to make sure you respect Scarlett.”

“Right, the hot little eighteen-year-old with more money than anyone else on this planet who can have whatever she wants as long as Daddy buys it for her deserves my respect.” Roger rolls his eyes. “How about your little girlfriend show me a little respect? I got you this record deal, this fucking sweet-ass house with a studio. When I showed up here, I fully expected to find you in the studio already trying to lay down some tracks. Maybe you’d be holed up somewhere writing lyrics, I don’t know. But instead, I find you playing grab-ass in the pool, looking ready to fuck her when she isn’t even your actual girlfriend. Like, what the hell, Tate?”

I’m flabbergasted the man thinks I’d be productive enough that I’d be ready to lay down tracks already. “We only just got here.”

“And time is money, my friend. You need to get on it. You have a month to get your shit together.”

“A month?”

“We need to strike while the iron is hot. You know this. In three months, your ass could end up yesterday’s news. Justin Bieber could get his hot wife pregnant or, I don’t know, Britney could finally come out with a tell-all book. A new album. Shit, maybe Bieber breaks up with wifey and gets back together with Selena. What I’m trying to say is, anything could happen and the public would forget all about you, just like that.”

Roger snaps his fingers for emphasis.

That anxious feeling returns, thumping hard in the exact part of my chest where my heart resides, and I rub at the spot, hating how Roger’s words make me feel. Like I’m already behind and it’s going to be impossible for me to catch up. “I’ll start working first thing tomorrow.”

“Might I suggest you start working tonight? Take your girlfriend out to dinner, and go someplace popular, where you’ll be seen. I’ll have my assistant text you a few restaurant suggestions.” Roger reaches into his back pocket and grabs his designer wallet, opening it up and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. “Dinner is on me, kid. Make sure she wears something hot and tight, and I want you to keep your hand firmly planted on her ass anytime you’re in public. Got it?”

I take the money from him, fighting the disgust that swirls within me at his demands. “Got it.”

The back door opens and in walks Scarlett, her hair twisted up into a wet bun on top of her head, that black sundress covering her voluptuous body, thank Christ. “Oh, sorry to interrupt,” she says when we both turn to look at her.

“You’re not interrupting anything, baby doll.” Roger approaches her, all smiles and softness as he leans in and plants a quick kiss on her cheek. “As a matter of fact, we were just talking about you.”

Scarlett looks like she wants to rub the kiss he left off her face, she’s so disgusted. “Why were you talking about me?” Her questioning gaze finds mine.

“I was just telling your boyfriend how I want you two to go out to dinner tonight. Show her the town, kid. Let her see all your old haunts.” Roger stands next to Scarlett and smiles that sharklike grin of his aimed right at me, pleased with himself.

All my old haunts. Please. Is he talking about the clubs where I got kicked out for being a belligerent drunk? The restaurants where I would throw a scene after I got caught doing coke in the bathroom? One time, I almost got arrested and had to be escorted out of the building. Oh, maybe I should show her the back alleys where I’d meet my old dealer.

No thanks.

“I should get going,” Roger says when neither of us says a word. “You two crazy kids try to keep your hands to yourselves, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

He’s gone in a matter of seconds, sailing through the house and out the front door and disappearing as if he were never here.

“I’m guessing he’d do just about anything we can think of, so that isn’t the best warning,” Scarlett says after he’s left.

“You’re speaking nothing but straight facts.” I run my hand through my damp hair, messing it up thoroughly but not really giving a shit. “Want to go out to dinner tonight?”

“Not particularly.” She tilts her head to the side. “I thought the chef was making us dinner tonight.”

“I think plans have changed.” My phone buzzes, and I check it to see it’s a text from Roger’s assistant with a list of restaurants they’re recommending. “Actually, it looks like we don’t have a choice.”

“Why not?” She’s adorably confused.

“Roger wants us to make an appearance. Can’t let anyone forget we’re a couple, right?” I’m trying to sound like I’m joking, but I fail miserably, so I let the smile fall from my face.

“Right,” she echoes, nodding. “Are you all right?”

“I’m great.” My voice is overly enthusiastic, and I should probably tone it down, but it’s like I can’t. “How are you?”

Her gaze returns to mine, and I swear it feels like she can see right through me. “What exactly did Roger say to you?”

I exhale loudly, grabbing the back of my neck with both hands. “He’s pissed that I’m not toiling away in the studio and writing songs already.”

Scarlett frowns. “What? But we just got here.”

“That’s what I told him, but I don’t think he cares.” I don’t bother telling her that he knows our relationship is fake. I don’t need to add that stress on her too. “Pretty sure he wasn’t too happy to see us together in the pool either.”

Her frown deepens. “What? Why not? I thought he believed we were a real couple.”

“He says I should stop fooling around with you and start working.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “So now I’m a distraction.”

“You’re not.” I start to approach her, and she takes a step backward, like she needs the distance from me. “Trust me.”

“I probably shouldn’t have splashed you.”

“Scarlett . . .”

“I’ll leave you alone. Tell me when you want to leave for dinner, and I’ll go get ready, okay?”

Before I can say a word or reassure her that she’s not at fault . . .

She’s gone.