Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 5

KATY’S POV

I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?”

He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?”

My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?”

He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?”

I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people.

No.

I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.”

He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…”

I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?”

He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.”

Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn.

“Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.”

I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?”

“We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.”

“And at least one home game,” he adds quickly.

I sigh. “That too.”

“And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.”

I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.”

His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?”

I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!”

“Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.”

“Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.”

His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.”

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