Page 92 of The Game We Played

He scowls. “Of course not. I don’t push women. No means no.”

She sighs. “Do you have to be this perfect?”

I start to puff out my chest but I stop. This is serious. Our relationship is serious. I need to tell her how I feel. And I will but not this way. She deserves roses and champagne. Silk sheets and my undivided attention.

“I’m not perfect. But I’m trying to be a better man.” For her. Always for her.

Her nose wrinkles. “Right. The scandal. The whole reason we started this charade to begin with.”

“It doesn’t feel like a charade to me anymore.” It hasn’t for a long time.

“Me either.”

My heart pounds in my chest. Alaia doesn’t want a fake relationship? She wants something real? With me?

“What do you mean? What do you want?” I need her to give me the words. I need to hear her say she wants me as much as I want her.

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. You’re still leaving in a few weeks. And I’m still stuck here.”

“You love this island.” She can’t deny it. She spent one of her few off days cleaning a beach. It was obvious how important it is to her. Which is why I stopped laughing and joking. I didn’t want to offend her.

“I do. And Smuggler’s Hideaway will always be home. But it’s not where I want to live now. I want to get a serious job as a journalist – finally. I’m tired of fluff pieces.” Her shoulders sag. “But I’m not good enough. Dad had to get me the job atSmuggler’s Gazette,and the sports magazine didn’t want my article on Coach Knox.”

I palm her cheeks. “Gorgeous, I’ve told you this before, but I will tell you again and again until I’m blue in the face. You are good enough. The articles you write for theSmuggler’s Gazettehave the highest readership of the newspaper. Most of my team has subscribed to the newspaper just to read them. And the sports magazine does want your work. I bet if you rework the article, they’ll accept it.”

She frowns. “You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you until you try. Have you been working on the article?”

She glances away. I grasp her chin and force her to meet my gaze. “Gorgeous.”

She huffs out a breath. “I’m stuck.”

“Writer’s block?” She nods. “Okay. How do you usually get unstuck? Go for a bike ride? Have a drink with friends? What do you need? How can I help?”

She studies me for a moment. “Actually, there’s one thing you can do to help.”

“What is it? Whatever you need, I can get for you.”

“I need to stop my brain from thinking for a while. I need to not think about anything.”

“Hmm… I know one way to stop your brain, but I don’t want to push you.”

She chews on her bottom lip as she contemplates me. “Do you agree this fake relationship doesn’t feel fake anymore?”

“I do.” In fact, I love her. But those words are for later.

“Good.”

She steps back and whips off her t-shirt, revealing a hot pink bikini top. Correction – tiny, hot pink bikini top. One tug on the knot around her neck is all it needs to fall down and reveal her gorgeous breasts to me.

I fist my hands at my hips. I won’t touch her until I hear her say she wants me.

“This is me saying yes. A big, bright sign flashing yes.”

I throw her over my shoulder. She giggles. “What are you doing?”

“My dirty girl needs a shower.”