Page 53 of Faking It
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs and when my eyes move up, they meet Robert’s from where he’s been sitting quietly, watching us across the room and observing the whole event.
“We can’t.” When I turn around in protest, I find myself chest to chest with Zane. I go to step back but his hands are on my lower back preventing me.
His head dips down, his lips finding my ear again. “Yes, we can.”
“Where are we—”
“Anywhere but here.” He links his fingers with mine and turns to those standing around us. “If you’ll excuse us for a minute, Harlow and I are needed for some interviews.”
And before my mind can process the fact that we’re playing hooky, Zane is leading me out of the ballroom without another word.
We clear the doorway, then the hallway, and are out the side door and heading toward the coach.
“Go change. We’re going out,” he mutters as he opens the door to the tour bus.
“Zane—what are—”
“What the fuck is it with people questioning me today?” There’s a bite to his voice as he works the buttons on the front of his dress shirt. I stand to the side of him, watching as he strips his shirt off, balls it up, and then throws it into the corner.
“What are you talking about?”
“Robert.” He eyes me over his shoulder and I immediately jerk my eyes from admiring the subtle ripple of muscles in his back. “Are you wearing that or are you changing?”
“Robert?” I take a step toward him. “Where are we going?”
“Out. We’re going out.”
“What’s going on, Zane?”
“I’m being suffocated is what’s going on.” He strides past me in the small space and yanks a black v-neck T-shirt from a hanger before pulling it over his head. “We’ve more than done our job for the night. I’m tired of being watched and told where to go and what to do,” he rages on as he shoves his slacks down and grabs a pair of dark blue jeans. “We’re allowed to go and relax. We’re allowed to step the fuck away from this prison on wheels . . . besides, I’m your boss so what I say goes.”
“You may be my boss and you can definitely say whatever the hell you want, but that doesn’t mean I have to go along with it.”
I yelp when he spins around and pounds the wall on either side of my head with his fists so that his body frames mine. There’s anger in his emerald eyes, frustration, but it’s the desire that has me opening my mouth and then closing it just as quickly.
“Do you want to stay cooped up in this coach again or would you rather get away from the prying eyes of all of these people . . . and Robert. Just go and have some fun,” he says, his voice low and grated.
“You know how to have fun?”
For the slightest of seconds I think he is going to lean forward and kiss me. My lips part just a fraction and my hands fist in anticipation.
But his lips slide into a cocky grin and his eyes darken. “You’re getting sassy, Harlow.” There’s something about the way he says my name that makes every nerve I have stand on end.
“I’m always sassy.”
We stare at each other in that suspended state of uncertainty. Where I want him to kiss me but I’m not sure if he wants the same thing. It’s seconds but feels like it lasts forever.
“Get changed,” he says before dipping even closer for a moment and then pushing off the wall to grab his belt on the bed.
“Where are we going?” I ask again.
“We need to do things outside of the events.”
“Okay.” I draw the word out as I look in the closet and grab a short and flirty sundress to pair with the cowboy boots I brought. When in Texas . . .
“I’m a pretty public guy. People see me. They’ll start to recognize you with the ad campaign. Maybe they’ll take pictures. Maybe they won’t. Then bam, Robert has his proof that we’re okay.”
“Dare I ask you what you did that has you suddenly worried about what Robert thinks?” I ask as I pull my dress over my head and then look over my shoulder when he doesn’t respond. I’m standing in the bedroom with my bra on and boy shorts—way more than any bathing suit I’d put on would cover, but it’s obviously caught his attention. He takes his time—eyes roaming over my bare back, my ass, my legs, before he clears his throat and meets my eyes again. “Are you trying to get away from him or appease him?”
