Honestly, this had a fresh plot that I have not read before. I couldn’t stop thinking about it

MISTER CLAY!!!!!! FAKE DATING!!! GRAND GESTUREEEEE GIVE IT ALL TO MEEEE

The perfect fake dating story. Clay and Giana are my favourites. A great read for fans of The Deal!

HOW DOES THIS SERIES KEEP GETTING BETTER AND BETTER. My god - the love, the smut, everything was absolutely incredible. I’m a sucker for a good fake dating trope gone completely haywire and this was beautifully done. Wow is all I can say. Absolutely adored this book!

gianaclay !!!!!

•fake dating
•slowburn
•dual pov
•friends to lovers
•jock x bookworm girl
•only with you
•sunshinexsunshineprotector

🏹 A curl fell over her left eye before she brushed it away, and when I leaned in even closer, she looked down at my chest, pulling her hands into her lap like she was afraid they’d brush mine if she left them on the table.
“Go out with me.”
Her eyes snapped wide at that, locking on mine before that snort-laugh thing bubbled out of her again.
“Or at least, pretend to go out with me.”
That made her laugh even harder

🏹 I wondered if this was what his opponents felt on the field, fear spiking the hairs on the back of their necks.
“Meow.”
I cracked a laugh. “Meow?”
“If I go too far, if you’re uncomfortable and want me to back off, just meow.”
“Oh, my God.”
“But you won’t have to,” he added quickly. “Regardless of all the research you’ve done on me and what you think you know, I’m a gentleman.”

🏹She was such a fascinating enigma to me, somehow shy and brave all at once. One moment she’d be having an anxious meltdown, and the next, she was all chin up, chest puffed, brow bent in determination like nothing could sway her.
I watched as it happened, as she sucked in a long breath, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw. I wondered if she was giving herself a mental pep talk, but didn’t have time to debate it.
She tilted her head, just a bit, asking without words if this was it, if this was the time.
I nodded.
And then she took off in a sprint.
It was quite possibly the cutest thing I’d ever seen in my life, how her hair and skirt bounced along in sync with every step on her way to me. I watched as heads popped up table after table, my teammates and the cheerleaders and training staff alike watching as she barreled toward me.
…
But before he could finish that question, Giana launched herself into my arms.
I caught her in a whoosh of air and hair and a sweet scent that washed over me like a baptism, ocean breeze and sunflowers. Her arms wrapped around my neck, mine wound around her hips, and I felt the lace of her stockings as she crossed her ankles where they hooked behind me, the smooth skin of her inner thigh brushing against my waist.
She’d run at me with pure excitement and confidence, but the moment she was in my arms, her smile faded, breaths quick and shallow.
Her wide eyes locked on mine, fell to my lips, and then slowly crawled their way back up.
…
I balanced her in one arm, freeing the opposite hand to trace the blush that crept along her cheeks. Then, I tilted her chin with my knuckles, watching those wide eyes of hers flutter shut.
And I kissed her.
I don’t know what I expected when this harebrained idea first came to me in that coffee shop bar across campus, but whatever it was ceased to exist the moment my lips found hers.

🏹Why are you here?” I whispered.
I swore I saw a world war raging behind his eyes, heard gunshots and bombs exploding as he battled with whatever was on his mind. It was like he was on the precipice of deciding whether he wanted to say it or keep it inside forever.
And then, he looked at me, Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat before he dared to push forward.
“I couldn’t eat,” he started, knee still bouncing. “Couldn’t train, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything other than make myself sick thinking about him touching you.”
My breath caught at the need, at the pure, desperate possession that rolled off his tongue along with those words.
“I tried to pull my head out of my ass, to remind myself that this was what you wanted, what we both have been playing this game for.” Clay shook his head. “But it was useless.”
He dropped his gaze from mine, staring somewhere at the ground between us, instead.
“I have thought of nothing and no one but you since that night on the observatory tower.”
His words were just a whisper, and emotion wrapped its hands around my throat, gripping tight as I held onto every word he said.
“I want you to be happy, Giana,” he continued, voice ragged. “Maybe more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. And if he’s what makes you happy? I’ll leave. Right now.” His gaze snapped to mine. “We can publicly break up and you can have what you want. I will walk away. I will leave you be. I will sincerely, with all my heart, wish nothing but the very best for you as I let you go.”
I struggled with my next breath at the thought, at all of it being over.
Clay stood then, slowly, his eyes never leaving mine as he did.
“But that’s not what I want,” he continued, testing the space between us. “And it hasn’t been for a while now, no matter how I tried to fight it.”
The bitter breeze did nothing to cool my steaming cheeks as Clay took another tentative step toward me, but he didn’t close all the space. He didn’t reach for me, didn’t touch me, didn’t dare take the control he was granting to me.
“I want you,” he declared, and the admission must have pained him as much as it elated me. His brows bent together, nose flaring like he was laying himself down at my feet and handing me a sword, not knowing if I’d ask him to stand again or cut his head off. “I want you,” he repeated on a raspy breath. “And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
I nearly sobbed when those words danced into the shell of my ear, when I realized every aching rip of my heart was one he’d felt, too.
It was real.
All of it was real.
And the only way I knew how to tell him that was with my hands sliding up his chest, arms wrapping around his neck, and toes pressing against the sidewalk until I could meld my mouth with his.
“I’m yours,” I whispered.
And then I was raked into his arms.

🏹“Clay, stop.”
He looked down at me. “No.”
“Clay,” I whisper-threatened through my teeth, trying to remain as professional as I could. I turned toward the crowd. “If you all want to take a quick break, we’ll have Holden Moore in here in ten minutes to answer more questions,” I tried.
No one budged.
Least of all Clay.
“No,” he said again, hopping off the chair and down to the floor in front of me.
…
“No, I won’t stop. I can’t stop, Giana. I can’t hide or pretend anymore. I can’t let my pride keep me from being honest and admitting that I fuuu—”
He paused, an awkward smile on his lips as he amended his language.
“Messed up. Bad.”
I swallowed, ribs squeezing painfully tight around my lungs.
“I hurt you. I know I did. And I also know that I don’t deserve the chance to explain everything to you, to admit my wrongs and ask for your forgiveness.” His brows folded together. “But I’m going to anyway. Because I love you, Giana Jones.”
The room was aflutter, cameras flashing and microphones being shoved as close to us as they could manage as Clay moved in closer, one hand moving up to sweep my hair out of my face.
“I love you,” he repeated, quieter this time, as if he only wanted me to hear. “I love your smutty books, and your weird documentaries, and your obsession with orange, processed snacks.”
I choked on something between a laugh and a sob.
“I love the way you dress, and the way you light up when you talk about the universe, and the way you saw through every wall I tried to put between me and the rest of the world and knew who I was even when I didn’t.”
He shook his head, licking his lips before he continued.
“I love how you believe in me, and how you burn to prove everyone wrong when they size you up too quickly. I love that you challenge yourself.” He paused. “I love that you challenge me.”
I leaned into his palm, bottom lip quivering before I bit down to hold it still.
“I love everything about you — big and small, silly and serious. And I’m sorry I was an idiot and tried to end our story before it even had the chance to begin.”
I closed my eyes, not even realizing the tears that had flooded my eyes until that motion released them and two rivulets ran silently down my cheeks.
Clay thumbed each away.
“I know I have a lot to explain, and I promise I’ll tell you everything. But right now, I just need you to know that I might have been good at pretending a lot in our time together, but I never faked the way I felt about you.” His thumb slid across my jaw. “You have owned my heart since the first fake kiss, Kitten.”
Something of a laugh left me as I opened my eyes again, and Clay waited until I looked at him before he held up the book in his hands.
“This baby needs some revision,” he said, trying to smile, though it fell quickly as his eyes searched mine, the same pain I felt reflected in them. “So, what do you say? Want to rewrite it together?”
A few more tears slipped quietly down my cheeks, Clay wiping them away before they had the chance to even hit my jaw line as I shook my head. My eyes bounced between his, heart swelling with the hope he’d restored.
I sniffed, grabbing the book and turning it over in my hands as I surveyed the horrid cover and font.
“Only if we start completely over,” I whispered, smiling as I peeked up at him. “Because this is the ugliest thing I have ever seen in my life.”
The room burst into laughter at that, and I had almost forgotten about the crowd until that moment. But I didn’t have time to even blush before Clay took the book out of my hand and dropped it to the ground.
“Deal,” he breathed.
And then he kissed me.
His arms wrapped me up in a fierce embrace, sweeping me off my feet until just my toes touched the ground. I snaked my arms around his neck just the same, holding on tight as he kissed me breathless in the flashing lights of a dozen cameras.

🏹“Now everyone knows you’re mine.” Clay grabbed the book out of my hands and tossed it aside before pinning me in the sheets, kissing all up and down my neck as I laughed and wriggled under the ticklish touch.
After a moment, he stopped, balancing on his elbows above me. His jade eyes scanned my own, and he swallowed, shaking his head.
“What?” I asked.
“I just… I thought I’d lost you. Forever. I thought I’d never get to be here again, holding you like this, touching you, kissing you.” His face crumpled in pain. “I was miserable without you.”
“I don’t want to talk about how many bags of Cheetos I ate.”
He smirked, brushing my hair out of my face before he gently removed my glasses and set them aside. Then, he pulled me into him, lips pressing against mine with tender warmth.

🏹“I love you,” he whispered, tilting my chin up.
“I love you,” I echoed, threading my fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck.
And then he kissed me, and for the first time in my life, I felt like the main character.
This was my happy ever after.