The Front Runner: A Small Town Fake Dating Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 3)

All the air empties from my lungs. The sound of my ragged exhale rushes through my ears, blocking out the sound of polite conversation and classical music playing in the ballroom. Stefan is smirking at me, like he knows something I don’t.

And for the first time in my life, I think that might be true.

I wrack my brain, trying to think of the first time he asked me on a date. It’s been so long that I can’t even remember. It’s become an ongoing part of our relationship, comic relief for the awkward tension that comes with doing work for my best friend’s enemy.

Unprofessional? Maybe. Necessary ice breaker? Definitely.

I don’t know why it never occurred to me that it might have been real. The way he looks at me. The way he touches me. The way he defends me. And now every interaction between us is hitting me upside the head like an awkward teenager with a dodge ball she never saw coming.

I’ve been dodging and deflecting for years, only to find out I was playing the wrong goddamn game all along.

The heat of Stefan’s lips moves against my neck. Goosebumps spread across my arms, and I squeeze my thighs together.

“What do you say, Mira? Are you going to give me a taste? Would you like that?”

His mouth moves down over my sternum, a quick nip at the top of one breast before he crouches. My mouth dries at the sight of this perfect man working his way down my body. I usually have a quick quip or snarky comment at the ready, but right now, all the blood has rushed away from my brain to somewhere between my legs.

Every reason not to do this grows wings and flies right down the hallway.

“Yes,” I say, throwing caution to the wind.

His teeth find my nipple through the thin silk of my dress, biting down gently before sucking, and a moan erupts from my throat.

“Quiet, Kitten,” he murmurs, dropping to one knee. “I don’t want to be interrupted.”

My chin falls to my chest just as his second knee hits the ground. “Right here?”

He presses a firm kiss to my stomach before dragging his teeth across my hip bone. “I think I’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”

My clit aches, and I buck my hips toward him. Stefan Dalca is kneeling before me, hands on my thighs, still looking so proud and polished—but just a bit undone. He yearns for me. I see it in his eyes. He does nothing to conceal his longing. And that feeling must be contagious. Or maybe seeing this man on his knees for me twice in one night is just too much to take.

“What if someone walks down here?”

He reaches forward playfully and undoes the buckle on my ankle. “Oh, look at that. Your shoe needs fixing. Again.”

Biting down on my lip, I check down the hallway one last time. We’re fairly hidden here. And I’m already not feeling like myself tonight. My concern for the consequences slip away as I murmur, “Yeah, fuck waiting.” And then I gather the silk of my dress in my hands, like I can’t get it lifted fast enough.

And it must not be quick enough for Stefan either, because he lifts what’s left and disappears beneath a curtain of red fabric. Immediately, he pulls one leg over his shoulder and wraps his strong arm around it to pin me in place against the wall. His face is so close to my pussy that I feel the dampness of his breath against the front of my panties as his teeth graze my inner thigh. He clamps down, taking a quick bite that borders on painful but mostly drives me to tip my hips toward him again.

“That’s what you get for making me wait so long.”

“I’m sorry,” spills from my lips, and I don’t even care how out of character the words are for me. All I want is for him to keep going.

His spare hand trails up my thigh, and his deep chuckle vibrates across my core. “No, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I pant.

“For this.” His top hand grips the waistband of my skimpy lace thong and the other one reaches right toward the damp strip of fabric and pulls down. Hard.

The sound of my panties tearing echoes through the hallway, followed by my startled gasp.

“What the f—” The scolding dies on parted lips because Stefan doesn’t waste any time putting his mouth on me. My head tips back against the wall and the ceiling opens up in blackness and bright stars.

I’m officially having an out-of-body experience.

He starts slowly, keeping his tongue wide as he laps at me. There’s no protecting myself from him with one leg slung over his shoulder. Every nerve ending fires, and I moan loudly before clamping one hand over my mouth and dropping the other onto the back of his head. Even the silk of my dress in my palm feels sensual. A match for the feel of his tongue sliding across my pussy.

“Delicious,” he murmurs before gently nipping at one lip.

“Oh my god.” My palm muffles my voice, and my eyes flutter shut at the feel of his lips, and tongue, and teeth between my legs.

He’s a master, and I’m so far gone that my wanton hips keep swivelling, riding his face. All I can think about is how good this feels and how I don’t want it to stop.

Which is right when he pulls away and trails his thumb over my seam with an appreciative groan. He presses down on my clit with firm, even pressure and suddenly, all I want is to see his face. I pull my skirt the rest of the way up, grasping it at my hip, and watch Stefan’s green eyes staring at me greedily. His fingers press into my thigh hard enough they might leave marks, while his opposite hand plays with my pussy like it’s his to use as he sees fit.

I feel the heat from my cheeks clawing its way down my throat and across my chest.

His hair is disheveled, and his lips are glistening when he asks, “Are you always this wet for me, Mira?”

Good god. I don’t think I’ve ever hooked up with someone so talkative. Maybe that’s why every hook up so far has sucked. Maybe that’s why I’m soaked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet for anyone,” I whisper back.

One side of Stefan’s mouth tips up seductively as his thumb slides over to spread me open. He liked that answer.

Part of me wants to crumble because no one has ever looked at me like Stefan. So closely. But the other part of me wants to open my legs wider and give him all the access he wants. He doesn’t give me time to think about it. His head tips down and two fingers glide inside me.

“Fuck.” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own.

With Stefan’s lips on me, I feel like a completely different woman. I feel like the woman I pretend to be, free of nerves and shyness. With his hands on me, I come alive, like I’m soaking up every spark that sizzles between us.

And right now, riding his fingers while he tortures me with his tongue, there is no shortage of sparks.

A familiar tugging sensation takes root at the base of my spine, and my legs shake. His fingers slide in and out of me rhythmically as his tongue works circles around my clit.

“Stefan,” I whisper. “Stefan… I’m going to—”

He looks up at me abruptly and presses his thumb down over the bundle of nerves where his tongue had been. “Come for me, Mira.”

One quick circle with his thumb and I’m gone. All the tension between us snaps as my orgasm overtakes me in a wave that crashes over my body. Stefan watches me. His fingers continue to torture me, but his eyes scour my face, my body, my every movement.

It’s unsettling the way he’s looking at me with so much pleasure. Like my climax was just as enjoyable for him as it was for me.

Shyness overtakes me, and I throw one arm over my face. My other arm hangs limp beside me, my dress still twisted between my fingers. “Stop staring at me!” I half laugh. I sound out of breath.

“I can’t,” he growls. Butterflies swarm my stomach as he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my aching core, sending aftershocks through my body.

This man is going to be the death of me.

His fingers soften on my thigh and stroke soothingly before he removes it from his shoulder and leans away. His hand closes around my fisted one, softly, loosening my grip so the fabric falls back over my bare thighs and ripped panties.

“You owe me a pair of panties.”

“I’ll buy you an entire shipping container of them if it means I get to keep ripping them off of you.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. The nerves, the tension, it all leaves me in a girlish giggle. A sound I’m almost certain I’ve never made. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He smooths the silk back down over my thighs and straightens my dress from where he still kneels before me.

“I mean, I guess I see what all the fuss is about now.”

He rises, towering over me like usual, looking concerned. “Have you never had a man do that for you?”

My lips roll together, and my cheeks heat. He just put his mouth on the most personal part of my body, and I can barely look him in the eye or talk about sex like a normal adult. “No. No, I have. It was always just okay. Awkward. Even sex. You know? Not a lot of it. Here and there. I tried hard to love it. But it just always felt okay. Mechanical maybe. Just not that exciting. Kind of boring.”

Fuck, I’m totally doing an awkward ramble. He killed my brain cells like I knew he would.

His serious face slowly morphs into a cocky, panty-melting smile, and my words die in my throat as my eyes go wide. He looks almost predatory with that grin on his face. He leans in and kisses me slowly, softly, expertly. And I melt into him. I can taste myself on his lips, and it wakes something primal in me. When he pulls away, I try to move closer for more, but he chuckles and presses his lips to the shell of my ear.

“Boring? Dr. Thorne, haven’t you learned by now that I love a challenge?”

No, it has definitely never been like this before.

“Let’s get out of here.” I grab his hand and tug him toward the emergency exit.

“What? You don’t feel like networking out there?” His voice is thick with amusement and something more seductive.

“Do you?”

“No.” He comes to stand beside me and drops his hand to the small of my back like he always does. I clench at the feel. It drove me to distraction before, and now it just straight up makes me crazy.

“Did I mention that this is a good look for you?” He chuckles and snaps the elastic waistband against my skin before leaning back to get a good look. The scraps of my ruined panties have apparently ridden up so they butt up against his hand. With a low growl, he tucks them back down and gives my ass a squeeze.

Perv.

I smile anyway. Revelling in his admiration.

“The only reason I brought you here tonight was so you could watch Patrick take a tumble off his glass throne.”

A small laugh bubbles up out of me as we take the stairs down with a sense of urgency I can’t explain. “How thoughtful of you to include me in your scheme.”

“I’ve told you before . . . I’m not the villain you think I am.”

“Or maybe you’re exactly who I think you are, and I like it.”

His eyes sparkle, and his grin turns wolfish as we hit the bottom landing and push out into the cool night air. “Maybe.”

With our fingers intertwined, we search the pull-through for our town car. Something I can say I’ve honestly never done. Yellow taxi? Uber? For sure. Personal driver? It’s kind of weird.

Especially when we find him and get in the car. Things between us were so tense before that the guy is shooting me skeptical looks through his rear-view mirror, like he’s worried about me—or my sanity.

I guess I can’t blame him. We left the event early, and now I’m wedged up against Stefan in the middle seat rather than leaned against the opposite door staring out the window while he played Mario Kart. Yeah, I saw that. And he’s fucking terrible. He obviously needed the practice, so I just left him to it so I could disappear inside my head for a bit.

We speed through the dark city, lights a blur outside the window. Twists and turns and bridges pass us by, but all I can feel are Stefan’s fingers combing through my hair. His firm thigh pressed tight and warm against mine. The side of my breast against his suit jacket and the sticky remnants of our torrid hookup in that hallway between my legs.

The drive back to Ruby Creek is far too long for what I’m feeling right now. I thought it would cool the heat simmering in my veins. I thought I might come to my senses and change my mind about hooking up with my best friend’s enemy, but the closer to home we get, the less in control I feel.

I drape my hand over his knee, fingers twirling nervously. If I could wish away all the fabric between us, I would. I want his skin on mine. His shoulders over me. His hands gripping my hips. I’ve never been so physically worked up over a person in my life.

Without even thinking of it, my hand glides up his inner thigh. My body knows exactly where it wants to go—where I want to be. The tips of my fingers trace the inner seam of his slacks. I can feel the hem of his boxer-briefs beneath the expensive fabric, and I can totally understand how he felt the need to rip my panties the way he did.

How have I gone so long without realizing we weren’t just business associates? It’s so on brand for me, immersed in books and work, and taking care of everyone that I missed something just for myself.

No more. I deserve fun in my life too.

“Mira.” Stefan’s hushed voice is gravelly as his lips move against my hair. “If you don’t watch that hand, I’m going to pull you onto my lap and fuck you right here in this car.”

My lips part, and I suck in a harsh breath. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him swear before, and I didn’t expect it to make me instantly wet when he did. I peek down and am met with the impressive outline of his cock pressing against the front of his pants.

I’m definitely not going to be bored when Stefan Dalca finally fucks me.