Faking Ms. Right: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Dirty Martini Running Club Book 1)
Faking Ms. Right: Chapter 16

I came home from the gym on Saturday to an empty house. My dad had gone somewhere with Ethan and Grant for the day. Everly had said she was going for a run, but she wasn’t back yet.

It was so quiet. And empty.

I downed a glass of water in the kitchen. I liked it quiet. I’d lived alone for years, and never once thought of this place as feeling empty. But I found myself mildly disappointed that Everly wasn’t here.

Why? I had work to do, anyway.

I needed a shower, so I went to my bedroom. Our bedroom? Evidence of Everly was everywhere. She kept her things neat, but I could see her yellow slippers next to the bed. A book on her nightstand. A pink tank top tossed on a chair. Her clothes peeked out from the partially open closet. So many colors. Pinks, yellows, and blues.

She was going out with her friends tonight. Glancing at her clothes made me wonder what she’d wear. That little black dress she’d worn when I’d taken her to dinner? My hands clenched into fists. She looked sexy as fuck in that dress, and I didn’t like the idea of her wearing it to some random bar with her girlfriends.

Of course, she’d have a ring on her finger. A big one, at that. It had only taken a week to get her ring and she’d been wearing it for the last several days. My lips twitched in a half-smile. Her ring would certainly be a deterrent. No man would hit on her when she was wearing that thing.

Unexpected benefit of Everly now posing as my fiancée: She had my ring to mark her as mine.

It was something of a mindfuck to realize how much I liked that idea. She wasn’t mine. In fact, I’d never thought of a woman that way before, even women I’d actually dated. So why did I enjoy the thought of her delicate fingers lifting her martini glass, an enormous diamond glittering on her left hand, declaring to the world that she was unavailable?

She was right about the ring. It was hideous. I knew it wasn’t something she’d wear under normal circumstances. But nothing about this was normal, and the ostentation of the ring signified that.

And Svetlana eyed it with open envy, which meant it had been the right choice.

I stripped off my clothes and tossed them in the hamper while I waited for the shower to get hot. The bathroom was filled with Everly as well. Her toothbrush was on the counter, along with a few cosmetics, a hair brush, and a bottle of pink nail polish. The little pops of color looked so foreign and strange among my blue and gray decor.

Steam filled the air and I got into the shower. It felt good after a hard workout. I washed up and let the hot water stream over me. Closed my eyes and felt it run down my face.

When I opened my eyes, Everly’s pink shampoo bottle caught my eye. I’d sniffed it before, so I knew it was why she smelled so fucking good. This, and something else that seemed to be just her. I couldn’t explain it. I’d held this bottle to my nose more than once, trying to decipher what it was that made it so captivating. It smelled great, but on her? It was intensely arousing.

I grabbed it and flipped the top open. Took a deep breath. Strawberry. Why did this botanical something-or-other strawberry-scented shampoo do it for me? I had no idea, but my dick was waking up.

The scent reminded me of the way my bed smelled after she’d slept in it. The sound of the shower running and the times I’d pictured what she looked like standing here, beneath the streaming water. Or lying in my bathtub, her nipples glistening wet.

This train of thought, and the scent of strawberry shampoo in my nose, was making my hard-on worse. How had I gone three years with Everly as my assistant without ever thinking about her sexually, to living with her for a few weeks and practically losing control of my dick? I couldn’t have counted the number of times I’d dealt with an unexpected erection since she’d moved in.

The pressure was frustratingly intense, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her tits. What they’d look like dripping wet. Her hands slowly running over her body as she washed herself.

I smelled the shampoo again. Fuck it.

Squeezing a glob of pink into my hand, I inhaled as the scent of strawberries filled the air. Bracing myself with one hand against the tile, I grabbed my solid erection and started to stroke.

There was no point in fighting it now. I let the images of a naked Everly flit through my mind. All that smooth skin. Those curves. Her perky tits and tapered waist.

I liked imagining her in the bath, but my mind moved her to the bed. My hand gripped my dick tighter as I stroked up and down the length of my cock, still slow and deliberate. Thinking about Everly on her back, her hair fanned out over my sheets. Her hands on her tits, teasing her nipples. I’d climb on top of her and sink my cock in deep. Get lost in her pussy.

Stroking faster, I imagined her in my office. On her knees, my cock in her mouth, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Bent over my desk with her skirt hiked up to her waist, her luscious ass in the air. I’d pound her from behind while she whimpered my name, trying to stay quiet.

Fuck, this was good. The entire shower smelled like her and my dick was stiff in my hand. Grunting as my muscles tensed, I stroked it out hard. Faster. I was immersed in hot water, steam, and strawberry shampoo, riding the edge of climax. My dick pulsed as I started to come, the sweet release making my eyes roll back. I grunted again.

It wasn’t sex, and it wasn’t her, but it was pretty fucking good.

Leaning against the tile, I let my dick drop and caught my breath. What was I going to do about her? Fuck her and get it over with?

No. That wasn’t really my style, but even if it had been, I knew it was a bad idea to get too close to her. Dad’s fling would end, and there’d be no more reason for Everly to stay. We’d have to go back to what we’d been before—boss and assistant.

That ring didn’t really make her mine.

I finished washing up, then got out of the shower and toweled off. No sound came from the bedroom to indicate Everly might be there, and when I peeked through the door, I found it empty. I dressed, putting on a white t-shirt and sweats. Everly had teased me the first time she’d seen me wearing sweats, saying she hadn’t thought casual Shepherd existed. As if I walked around in a suit and tie even on weekends.

If she only knew. Casual Shepherd did exist, and not just the guy wearing sweats at home. I just didn’t let people see him. Not anyone I knew personally, at least.

Relaxed from my shower, I wandered out to the kitchen to replace something to eat, my mind already switching to work. I had proposals to review and a contact to go over. I’d get some food and spend the evening in my office tonight. Everly wouldn’t be home, anyway.

Not that it mattered what she was doing. We’d gone on several dates-for-show recently, so why did I keep thinking about her plans for tonight? She didn’t have to spend every evening with me.

I needed to get her out of my head.

Coming around the corner into the kitchen, I almost ran right into her. She yelped, clutching a silver water bottle to her chest.

“Oh my god, you scared me,” she said. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were home.”

She was dressed in a blue tank top with a pair of skin-tight leggings that showed every curve. With her hair up in a ponytail and her skin glistening from her run, it made me want to lick her to see if she tasted salty.

Her full, pink lips parted in a bright smile. “That’s okay, no harm done. Did you have a good workout?”

It took me two tries to get a word out. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

No, I’m fucking distracted because I just gave myself an Everly-scented orgasm.

Oh shit, what if she smelled me? I ran a hand through my hair, although that certainly wasn’t what I’d used her shampoo for. “Fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

She took a drink of her water. “Okay. I’ll let you do your thing. Are you done with the shower? I need to take one.”

Damn it, just the mention of her in the shower was getting me hard again. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged. “All right.”

Just as she was about to walk away, her hands caught my attention. Her left hand, specifically. It was bare.

“Where’s your ring?”

She held her hand out and glanced down at it. “Oh, I took it off to go running.”

It was the oddest thing. We’d already decided that she wouldn’t wear it in the office; she was concerned about the gossip and I agreed it was best to keep things quiet at work. But there was a deeply primal part of me that wanted to insist—no, command—that she wear my ring at all other times. Running, shopping, out with her friends drinking martinis—I wanted that ring on her finger.

But I stopped myself from insisting. Clenched my teeth and looked at her hand for a few seconds. She stood frozen, her arm outstretched, her eyes on my face.

I cleared my throat and moved past her into the kitchen. It didn’t matter if she took it off to go running. It wasn’t real. She wasn’t my girlfriend, or my fiancée. She was just Everly, my assistant.

Except she wasn’t. She was a hell of a lot more, and I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do about that.