Page 72 of Fake It For Glory

He thrust into me. I cried out in pleasure. He started moving inside me, pounding his hips against mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me. I clawed at his back.

He moved faster and deeper. I begged him for more. He groaned and started kissing my neck. I felt his teeth, then his lips as he kissed my neck. I cried out as my orgasm built inside me.

“Fuck, Merida.” He thrust into me with his arms shaking. I felt him swell inside me. The pleasure was almost too much for either of us. Never in my life did I think there could ever be anything this amazing.

“Come for me, Jensen.”

He put his mouth on mine and kissed me as he came, grunting and vibrating as his hips jerked. My own body erupted into a million pieces. Stars burst behind my closed eyes. I heard myself keening, but the sound felt so far away.

He held himself above me, then rolled to the side. He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. He kissed my forehead and nose and then my cheek. His breathing was just as labored as mine.

“Shit,” he murmured. “I think I blew a few brain cells.”

I laughed softly. “What?”

“My brain imploded. Too many pleasure neurons bouncing around short-circuited my brain. I think I blacked out for a second.”

I laughed again. “We should do that again.”

“You’re insatiable,” he said with a grin in his voice.

“I think that’s the orgasm talking.”

He laughed. “You’re right. We should do that again. Once I recover. But first, we should rest a bit. We’ve still got a crazy schedule.”

“Sounds good to me.” I nuzzled his chest.

His hand gently rubbed up and down my arm as he settled into slow breathing. I wanted to go to sleep, but the guilt was creeping in.

What the hell was I doing? I was falling for the man I wanted to expose. I didn’t know if I could finish the article. It felt like a betrayal to him. He had opened his life to me and I was repaying him by writing about his secrets.

I was a journalist. At least, that was what I wanted to be. That was all I wanted. I wanted people to read something I wrote and talk about it. I wanted to be the one starting conversations at the water cooler with my hard-hitting journalism.

I wanted to create content that people would enjoy and feel like they learned something from. I didn’t want to tear people down or expose the man that was just trying to do what he loved.

It wasn’t who I was. I didn’t know what I was anymore. I was lying to everyone. Jensen deserved better. If he wanted to keep his secrets, that was his business. I had no right to expose him. He wasn’t a bad man. He was private and had baggage. It was not my place to tell the world about Jensen’s rough childhood and the pain he suffered losing his father.

But if I didn’t write the article, I would never be taken seriously as a journalist. Maybe I could do both. Write the article and then apologize to Jensen for exposing him. What was that saying, act now and apologize later?

But even thinking about doing that had me twisted in knots. I didn’t think I could do it. Dalton was right. I had gotten too close to my subject.

There was no way I could publish the article. I was going to be jobless with no chance of a serious career. Jensen was right. I could go through with the job and get paid enough to carry me for years.

Maybe Jensen and I had something real. I could be his real girlfriend. I wouldn’t mind tagging along with him. We did have fun together. But if my identity was going to be Jensen Loxley’s girlfriend, where did that leave me?

I wanted to be out there. I wanted my career to take off. I wanted to be a success at something. I didn’t want to live in the shadows. I wanted the respect from other journalists and most importantly, my father.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jensen murmured against my ear. “We’ll figure it out together.”

If only he knew what I was really mulling over, he would kick me out of his bed and his life for good.