Chapter 34: Fake Sex

"There’s no fucking way I’m having sex with a walking STD like you," I snapped, taking an immediate step backward away from his unbuttoned shirt.

Knox paused, his calloused fingers resting on his second button. He let out a low, dry scoff, his dark eyes glinting with arrogant amusement.

"Relax, Bookworm," Knox said, his voice dropping into a low, smooth rumble. "I said we’re giving them a show. I didn’t say we were actually touching each other."

"A show?" I repeated, my heart still hammering against my ribs as I looked at the heavy brass lock on his bedroom door.

Outside in the second-floor hallway, the muffled sound of heavy footsteps and laughing voices echoed through the wood. Brad Orwell’s voice carried clearly over the thudding bass coming from downstairs.

"Come on, Sheridan!" Brad shouted, knocking twice on the panel. "We know you’re in there! Don’t tell me you brought her upstairs just to talk about economics!"

Knox didn’t even turn toward the door. He looked back at me, unbuttoning two more buttons until the broad, muscular expanse of his chest was visible under the dim bedroom lamp.

"Brad and half the team are standing out there in the hall, waiting to hear what happens," Knox explained quietly as he stepped closer to me. "If this room goes quiet, Brad is going to walk downstairs and tell everyone that the patio kiss was a publicity stunt. But if they hear us..."

"If they hear us, they think we’re actually sleeping together," I filled in, my cheeks burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the chilly air outside.

"Exactly," Knox said, a faint smirk touching his lips. "So unless you want your four-week contract blown to pieces by midnight, we make enough noise that Brad Orwell leaves with his jaw on the floor."

I took a sharp breath, looking around his master bedroom. It was noticeably cleaner and more organized than the last time I was here... when I had walked in on him and... I stopped myself.

The massive king-sized bed with dark gray sheets was made though, and his hockey gear was neatly stowed in the corner instead of strewn across the floor.

"Fine," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. "How do we do this?"

Knox didn’t answer with words. He walked over to the side of the bed, grabbed a heavy decorative pillow, and slammed it rhythmically against the headboard.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound echoed through the wall, mimicking the heavy, rhythmic thud of a headboard banging against the drywall.

Knox glanced over his shoulder at me, his dark eyes glinting with a challenge. "Your turn, Bennett. Make some noise."

My throat went dry. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Anything that sounds like you’re enjoying yourself," Knox said smoothly, landing another hard thump against the wall. "Go on."

I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and let out a stiff, high-pitched moan. "Ahhh..."

Knox stopped his arm mid-air, wincing as he looked at me like I had just lost my mind. "Bennett, that sounded like you just stubbed your toe on a coffee table. Put some effort into it."

"I don’t fake-moan on command, Sheridan!" I hissed through my teeth, stepping toward the bed.

"Well, start learning," Knox growled, slamming the pillow harder against the headboard. Thump! Thump! "Brad is literally standing two feet away from that door. Or do you want me to touch you for real so you can moan for real?"

"Just say you want to get under my skirts, Sheridan," I snapped, glaring at him through the dim light.

Knox tilted his head, a slow, arrogant smirk curving his lips. "Are you offering?"

"Never."

"Good, because I doubt you’d even know what to do with a guy like me anyway," Knox scoffed out loud, his voice dropping into a deep, taunting rumble. "Besides, Bookworm... you’re definitely not my spec."

"Pfftttt..." I scoffed as I kicked off my sneakers, climbed onto the edge of the mattress, and started jumping up and down on the heavy box spring.

The metal springs let out a loud, rhythmic, unmistakable squeak.

Squeak. Squeak. Thump. Squeak.

"Oh..." I tried again, letting out a breathless, dramatic gasp that echoed through the room. "Oh... Knox..."

Knox’s jaw dropped for a fraction of a second, a sudden dark flicker crossing his eyes before he let out a low, husky laugh.

He leaned into the headboard, thumping it even harder against the wall while deepening his own voice into a low, gravelly groan.

"Yeah, Nora?" Knox grumbled out loud, using her first name which he rarely do. "Just like that."

"You are so annoying, Sheridan," I whispered violently under my breath as I kept bouncing on the mattress, making the springs squeak in a frantic rhythm.

"You’re the one bouncing on my bed, Bennett," Knox whispered back, his dark eyes sparkling with wicked, unholy amusement as he kept up the heavy pounding against the wall.

Outside in the hallway, the chatter suddenly died out.

"Holy shit," a guy’s voice whispered clearly through the door. "Dude... they’re actually going at it."

"No way," Brad’s voice muttered, sounding completely stunned and mortified. "They were just fighting an hour ago!"

Knox leaned in slightly closer to me with amusement in his eyes as he whispered under his breath: "We need to bring it home, Bookworm. End it."

Before I could react, Knox cleared his throat and growled loudly for the door: "Come on, Nora... cum for me."

My jaw dropped, my cheeks flushing bright red, but I forced myself to dive headfirst into the performance.

I threw my head back, bouncing harder on the mattress, and let out an earth-shattering, breathless moan that filled the quiet room.

"Oh... Knox... oh god, YES!" I cried out, making the moan sound as raw and breathless as humanly possible, while fiercely whispering under my breath to him, "You are going to burn in hell for this, Sheridan."

"Just keeping the lie believable, Bookworm," Knox whispered back, letting out a heavy, gravelly grunt for the door as he slammed the pillow one last time.

Outside in the hallway, total silence fell before a guy’s voice gasped through the door: "Holy shit... dude, she just finished. They’re actually tearing the room down!"

"No way," Brad’s voice muttered, sounding completely mortified and defeated. "Let’s get out of here before Sheridan comes out."

The rapid thud of sneakers retreated down the wooden stairs, heading back toward the main party.

Knox dropped the pillow and I stopped bouncing.

We both collapsed backward onto the massive king-sized mattress, lying side-by-side on the dark gray sheets, gasping for breath as our chests heaved in the quiet room.

Neither of us spoke for almost a minute. The fake noise was gone, leaving only the sound of our ragged breathing filling the room as we stared up at the ceiling.

Knox turned his head on the pillow, looking over at me with a slow, arrogant smirk. "Not bad for someone who doesn’t fake-moan on command, Bookworm. You almost sounded convincing when you screamed my name."

"Shut up, Sheridan," I snapped as I grabbed one of the decorative pillows from beside my head and threw it straight into his arrogant face.

Knox caught it effortlessly with one hand, letting out a deep, quiet laugh.

I sat up, sliding off the edge of the mattress to smooth down my shirt and fix my messy hair, trying desperately to cool down my burning cheeks.

Just then, my phone buzzed hard in my pocket.

I pulled it out with trembling fingers, unlocking the screen. It was a text notification from Priya, containing a direct link to a brand new post on Briar Campus Buzz, uploaded less than thirty seconds ago.

I tapped the link. Someone outside the door had recorded a fifteen-second audio clip of our performance, and the new viral post read:

BREAKING: Spat officially OVER! Sheridan and his diner girl just tore down the master bedroom at the SinBin. Headboard thumping, bed squeaking, 10/10 recovery 👀🔥 status: VERY TOGETHER.

My cheeks burned beet red as I stared at the screen. "They posted an audio recording of us on your bed."

Knox stood up from the bed, looking over my shoulder at the phone screen, the dark smirk still playing on his lips.

"Told you it would work."