Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance by Jamie Knight (good books to read for beginners txt) 📗

the hot sex we’d just had. It hadn’t hurt, at least not in too bad of a way, but it might if we did anything again too soon.

“Couch now, bed later,” I said, sitting down next to him and leaning into his warm embrace.

It was the most diabolically comfortable piece of home furnishing I had ever sat on. At least for a second, I honestly thought I could just sit there forever without moving.

Or at least I would need some assistance if I were ever to get up. In which case, I was glad I’d have Gavin there if it ever came down to it.

When my body bumped into his on the sofa, he felt hard and muscled. And very nice. Of course, the part of him that got really hard was exactly the one that I wanted the most.

I was still in slight shock about the size of his cock. Not only that it was so big, but also that I was able to take it with little trouble.

I felt pretty proud of myself and would definitely like more. Even though it was supposed to be a fake relationship, how Gavin helped me feel was very real.

Barely moving so as not to disturb me, Gavin picked up the remote from the arm of the couch and brought the entertainment system to life, the DVD player making a soft whirring sound.

The massive TV blinked to life, and then the menu for Gangs of New York appeared before our eyes.

Using another remote, Gavin dimmed the room’s lights to provide an even more authentic theater experience.

I could really get used to this.

As the disc spun, we cuddled even closer. I could feel the vibrations in Gavin’s chest as he delivered all of Liam Neeson’s lines along with him.

“What are you doing?” I asked playfully.

“Sorry. Force of habit,” he said.

“No, I like it,” I admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sexy.”

“Well, wait until we get to Priest’s retort,” he said, with a wicked grin.

We did get to Priest Vallon’s retort, and I could actually feel my pussy getting wet as I heard Gavin utter every word. I had read that women responded more to sound than visual stimulation, and now I was really beginning to believe it.

I started doing Jenny’s lines along with her for fun, not even trying to do an Irish accent since I didn’t want to insult him. I knew it would be really, really bad.

“Why don’t you do the accent?” he asked.

“Really?”

“Sure.”

I tried doing it as best as I could, and he laughed, making his whole body shake. Then he kissed me on the forehead, and I couldn’t help giggling a bit myself.

“Adorable,” he said.

“Thanks?” I said, hoping he meant it in a good way.

“And sexy,” he said, his voice full of smolder.

“Oh!” I said, feeling a tingle move throughout my whole body.

“I don’t think I told you, but I have an audition for a movie tomorrow and want to do well.”

I sat up.

“That’s great, but don’t you have a regular series?”

“Aye, but it is always good to have a couple things going at once. And the series doesn’t have a non-compete clause. You never know when a show might get canceled, and there can be a lot of downtime between shoots. Some pro actors work on five or six projects a year.”

“Wow!”

“It takes some dedication and a bit of name recognition, but it can be done. There are also your character actors who seem like they’re in absolutely everything, but no one really knows their name. They usually get to be known as that guy in all the movies.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, easily able to think of a few actors I knew only by their character names but who seemed to be in every second or third thing I saw.

“I actually wouldn’t mind being one of those,” he remarked.

“You don’t want to be famous?” I asked. “But you said your show could be as big as Friends. Isn’t that what every actor dreams of?”

“There are all sorts of fame, sweetheart.”

“I guess so, yeah,” I said, never having thought about it that way.

I suppose being well known as a character actor still counted as being pretty famous— even if no one ever remembered your actual name.

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by the “sweetheart,” though. He hadn’t been in Hollywood long enough for it to really be a showbiz thing.

Was it possible he was already calling me by a pet name? I dearly hoped that was the case.

Quick as it was, I was really falling for him. And not just because of the big, comfy couch and mind-altering sex. He was perfect and chivalrous and unaffected by bullshit.

The movie ended, and I sat up with a start, realizing that I had already been dozing on his shoulder. He kissed me, bringing me immediately to full consciousness.

“I should go to bed,” I said with a yawn and a stretch.

“Yeah, baby!” he said, doing his best attempt at an Austin Powers impression.

I laughed and gave him a playful swat.

“I mean for sleep. I promised my therapist that I’d work on my sleep routine. Apparently, it’s vital for living a healthy life.”

“Truthfully, I’ve always thought therapy was a bit of a scam. Better to go to the pub and talk to the bartender. Less expensive and about as effective.”

My eyebrows shot up at that remark.

“Really? What were you doing at the professional building then, smart guy?”

“Seeing my lawyer about getting my work visa extended. It was a lot easier after I got contracted on to the show. The producers were quite keen to keep me in the country.”

“My therapist is quite good, really,” I said, feeling very bristly and defensive.