Chapter 7

Elsa

Trust him? Follow his lead?

That’s fucking rich.

The last time I trusted Tanner—well, let’s just say, I’ve avoided doing it ever since. Nothing good ever happens once you put your trust in him to lead.

But I see no other way of getting out of this restaurant, so I do, albeit reluctantly.

Pulling me to him tightly and weaving through the crowds of people and waitstaff, it catches the attention of more than a few patrons.

Of course, he’s making a bigger scene than this needs to be.

He’s always been good at making a show out of something, including his asinine stunt that got us in this fucked up arrangement in the first place.

As we stroll by, some of the interested people are bold enough to point and gawk.

I roll my eyes and laugh. It’s amusing how little they care about looking like assholes.

Before we make our way out the exit, I see Lis at the other end of the restaurant—where we were less than a minute ago—typing away at her phone and smirking peevishly.

This will definitely be making the Chronicle tomorrow.

Maybe it’ll look better for us and our engagement—fake engagement, that is.

I try to recall everything that happened in the short hour or so after I arrived, but it all happened so quickly. This whole damn thing has been a whirlwind.

One minute, I’m inches away from him, ready to jump him, and the next, I’m blindsided by Lis.

Honestly, though, I’d never thought I’d say this, but thank god for Lis. Without her cockblock, more than just my hand would be on Tanner right now.

A heated tingle vibrates under my skin once I realize how close I was to consummating this engagement. I was almost panting and already dripping with desire for him.

Like, I was nearly begging him to touch me.

It’s fucking ridiculous how fast he can mess with me. He can unravel all the hard work I’ve done to distance myself from him with only a few words.

It’s pathetic, but I refuse to be a cliché. And like my lingerie, I’m not a worn-out trope.

So I’ll be damned if I fall for any of his charms again. I need to keep reminding myself that though he is my pretend fiancé, he is still really my enemy.

I’m hit with a gush of fresh air as we exit out the front door.

Fortunately, it slowly melts away the sugar-coating Tanner laid on thick tonight, with those goddamn lights and flowers.

It was a beautiful, romantic display, but not appropriate for what we are and what we agreed to be.

“Tanner, stop! Why are we still running?” I tug at his arm, wanting him to answer me.

But he doesn’t budge; instead, he keeps holding onto my hand, pacing forward.

Suddenly, he turns down a dark alley way on the side of the building.

He pushes me up against the wall and barricades me in, placing both arms on either side of me.

“What are you doing!?” I hit him on his hard chest.

He brings a finger to my lips in a shushing gesture, and I push him away.

“What the fuck, Tanner?” I scowl at him, now fuming.

Leading me down a dark alley is one thing, but then telling me to be quiet—I don’t take that lightly.

Don’t get me wrong, though, both are worthy of a slap.

“Be quiet. We’re hiding,” he looks down at me, and his eyes fall to my lips.

I writhe underneath his gaze, feeling an unexpected pulse of desire vibrate though my body.

I know I should protest and call him an ass, but with his body above me and his magnetic grey eyes staring, he dominates me.

It clouds all my better judgement.

Shit.

He moves closer to me, pinning me against the wall, and our breathing becomes erratic.

The heavy pants echo in the alley, and the anticipation thickens in the air around us.

My hands linger on his chest, browsing the hardness of his pecs and his abs, and I leisurely peel them off him.

I feel his muscles tense beneath me as I do.

But like the smart woman that I am, I place my hands behind my back away from him.

I promise, it was an innocent mistake. And I look up at him, with my best virtuous and ‘oops’ expression.

But what I’m met with shakes me to my core.

His eyes send a jolt of electricity straight to my cunt. They’re heated, intense, and dangerously erotic.

He bends his elbows, and lays his body on mine, our sensitive skin burning into each other.

I melt into the wall, grasping onto it, hoping that it’ll keep my weakened legs up.

My body reflexively quivers in response to his overwhelming presence.

I’m afraid of what will happen when I give in, but I’m also aching for the pleasurable release for when I do.

“I think this is a good hiding spot,” he whispers sensually, and his breath tickles my skin.

“Hiding? Don’t we want them to see us?” I ask, trying to taunt him but also genuinely curious.

I bend my elbows and push my chest forward, and I rock my hips against the wall, wanting the movement to relieve some of my built-up pressure.

He bites his lips and stares down at body, arousal and excitement flashing through his eyes.

Taking one hand, he grabs my waist and pins me even closer to him, our bodies now molding together.

I gasp faintly, not expecting a direct touch.

Instinctively, I grab onto his shoulders and spread my fingers across his broad and large muscles, feeling the crevice they create from their hardness.

Fuck, this is exhilarating.

“Oh, you’d like to give them a show?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting playfully and his eyes twinkling.

“Well, you are the best at that.” I smile and force myself to remain unaffected.

He feels so amazing, and every part of my body wants to give into my need for him—fall into him, touch him, and for heaven’s sake, let him touch me!

But I need to use my head.

My body can play tricks on me, clearly, but my wits have never failed me. At least, they haven’t yet.

He pulls away from me—painfully—but his eyes never veer from mine.

Without another word or a response, he grabs my hand and pulls me forward, putting a finger to his mouth to shush me again.

“Excuse me?” I screech. How many times is this man going to tell me to be quiet?

“Trust me.” He winks.

Fucking hell. Here we go again with that damn trust.

Before I can respond, we’re running towards the other end of the alley.

Reaching the opening, he peeps his head out to see if there are any cameras.

He nods towards the few paparazzi standing at the other end of the street, and I look to verify.

Yep, that’s them. They look like vultures, swarming around a dead carcass, preparing for their attack.

We casually make our way out to the sidewalk and pretend to act like any other pedestrian.

But they notice us seconds later, which I’ll blame on Tanner’s height, as it is unusual for an average person.

God, why does he have to be model-worthy attractive?

We’re able to manage a sizable head start, providing a decent buffer between us and the paps, but we still make a run for it.

He grabs my hand again, and we run together as the vultures scream and chase us.

“TANNER!”

“ELSA!”

“IS IT TRUE? ARE YOU LOVERS?”

“WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO DIRTY LITTLE ANGEL?”

“WHAT ABOUT PRETTY LITTLE VIXEN?”

Fucking Lis, she must’ve tipped them off already. She’s quick—quicker than a fucking jackrabbit in heat, I swear.

We swerve in and out of traffic, dodging cars and slow ass walkers.

Adrenaline surges through me, and the excitement of our cat-and-mouse game makes me giddy. I find myself smiling like a kid on Christmas morning as we weave through the city.

Again, I know I’m being ridiculous, but it’s surprisingly fun! It’s most likely the intrigue and deceitfulness that adds something extra to this adventure.

I feel myself getting lost in it, and I flashback to a time when Tanner and I had this much fun.

Or to when I had this much fun.

Even if this isn’t something we or I have done regularly—or at all for that matter—it’s a feeling that I know I can easily become addicted to.

Entering Central Park, we run along the path and make our way into a hidden, more obscure spot.

Finding a shaded bench—though, really they’re all shaded at night—we sit down and try to catch our breath.

I clutch my chest, feeling more winded than I should be, and start to laugh.

Maybe I should do more cardio.

He looks back at me, his elbows on his knees, heavily breathing.

“Having fun, angel?” he smiles, and I smile back, feeling free at the moment.

“Who would’ve thought?” I say, slowly regaining my composure and breath.

“I think we’ve gotten away from them, though.” I observe our surroundings, making sure my instincts are correct.

“No, we didn’t,” he says in all seriousness. “Don’t look, but he’s to the left, behind the large, overgrown bush.”

I avoid looking directly at the photographer as he instructed, but I still notice a shadow behind the bush, moving ever so slightly.

“He has no idea that we can see him,” Tanner whispers, and a small chuckle escapes him.

He must be having fun, too.

Slowly, he leans back and turns to me, his face free of any readable expression, though there is a hint of mischief in his stare.

“Do you trust me?”

I roll my eyes—extra hard this time. I’m getting really annoyed at him asking me this.

I open my mouth to object, but he grabs my face, cradling it in his hands, and kisses me passionately.

I tense, instinctively wanting to push him away, yet my need for him goes wild, and I give into my craving.

He breaks our kiss and thumbs my lips, staring at them.

“Do you, Elsa?”

Going against everything I’ve been fighting, I rely on instinct. I nod my head yes, unable to form words, and his lips crash back into mine.

He slides closer to me and moves a hand down my curves, angling my knees in his direction.

His hand stops at the hem and then begins to gradually slide underneath my dress.

I moan into his mouth, eager for him to give me release.