Page 11 of The Fake Fiancé

"What are we doing, Adam?" I whisper, emotion threatening to choke me. He’s made me come, and I stillwanthim. Not just for sex, or foreplay, or whatever. I wantAdam, and I’m spiraling.

Adam makes a noncommittal sound, pressing his lips to my forehead. "I don't know," he finally says, "But I know I don't want it to stop."

I swallow, and let my eyes close, because I’m either going to cry or fall asleep, and the latter option is less embarrassing. His body is so warm, and I feel so safe…and dammit…

Honestly, I don’t want this to stop either.

6

ADAM

The light filtering through the sheer curtains is soft and gray, muted from the white snow on the mountain and the lingering storm clouds from the day before. I wake slowly, and for the first time in a long time, I reach to the other side of the bed and find someone there.

She's here. She's real. It’s been so long since my sleep has been disturbed by concern and respect for a sleeping partner. A need to protect, to be vigilant. My late wife and I slept in different rooms for quite a few years. I loved her, respectfully. I admired her, and many of her qualities, but our intimacy waned over time

The events of the previous evening come rushing back: the sudden storm, the terror of losing Elowen, the shock of relief upon finding her, the bath, and of course the desperate, hungry need that consumed us both. I place my hand on her naked back, willing myself to believe it wasn’t a dream.

She shifts, still in her sleep, to face me, and I soak in the simple intimacy of the moment. Her hair is a dark, tangled mess onthe pillow, her lips slightly parted, still a little swollen from the kisses we shared. Her breaths rasping, her features peaceful, contented.

I slide from the bed without disturbing her and make a few calls. By the time the room service arrives, she's starting to stir, a confused frown on her face until I sit on the mattress next to her.

"Good morning.” She sounds adorably shy. Her eyes failing to meet mine.

“Good morning, Elowen. I hope you’re hungry.”

We eat in bed, the silence between us easy. I feed her from my fingers, and she takes the morsels with lowered lashes. I’m instantly hard beneath the sheets covering my lap.

When the food is done, I reach for her, hungry for the taste of her skin, but she stiffens, and I pull back.

"What's wrong?"

A shadow passes over the grass-green of her eyes. "Nothing," she says, her voice artificially bright. "I'm fine."

"Elowen. There’s no reason to lie. Talk to me."

She blows out a shaky breath, stirring a dark curl off her forehead. "I'm hesitant,” she admits. "I'm scared I’ve messed everything up with the best job I’ve ever had by falling headfirst into a fling.”

"You haven’t ruined anything," I insist, reaching out to cup her face in my palm. "And it's sure as hell not a fling."

"But how can you be so sure?" she asks, her eyes, stronger now, but searching. "We barely know each other, and it’s all movingat light speed.” She lowers her face and under her breath mutters, “way too fast…”

"Maybe," I concede, my thumb stroking her cheek, "but you don’t feel like a stranger, Elowen. You never have.”

She furrows her brow in a silent question. I owe her an answer, but fuck…it’s hard.

"I don’t like to think about those weeks after Celeste died.” I start. “When I look back, it’s all grey…except the memory of you. Your emerald eyes. Your voice, uncareful and genuine. You treated me like a person, and it was a relief. I was too fucked up then to know why, but I knew I wanted you around when I emerged from the dark cloud of it all. When I was myself again, I could see why.”

“Why?”

“Because you fascinate me. I adore you, Elowen.” I lick my lips, knowing I have to say the next part, otherwise she’ll always question how I moved on so fast. “Listen. I did love my wife, but I was neverinlove with her, and she was never in love with me. I married her because it benefited us both financially and socially. I always respected Celeste and came to love her in time, and we both adored our daughter. But we hadn’t slept in the same room for almost a decade, long before she was ill. I was loyal. She was too. Her loss fucking devastated me. But this thing between us, Elowen? It’s a first for me. I’ve neverwantedanyone or anything the way I want you.”

It’s true, and I struggle to understand it. My world is ordered, precise, but something I’ve never encountered before has hit me hard, and I’m in a spin. What is this? I cannot explain it or diagnose it. I struggle to even name it.

“Oh.” She laughs, a little self-consciously, dashing away a tear that she thinks I don’t see. “Well. I feel a little less ridiculous, then. I thought I was taking this new job too far. Too seriously. Don’t get me wrong, Adam, I love it. Love here. But I’m worried I’ve become a little too obsessed with you too.”

Victory surges up in me.Obsessed.It’s good for my ego, and it’s even better when she melts into my arms. I slide her forward and kiss her. It feels so natural and so uncomplicated, but she tenses. I’m attuned to Elowen in a way I’ve never been with anyone. There’s still a thread of something there. Something hesitant.

"What is it? What are you still holding back?"