Page 65 of Sweet Surrender

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to forget.

“I’m so sick of this shit, Hendrix. You want and I give but what do I get in return? Nothing. Nada. A failing bakery and a girl who fucking sucks in bed.”

Paul’s voice echoes in my head. Words I knew to be untrue at the time but that I allowed to wear me down until I started to believe them. I shove it away.

“You’re thinking too hard over there,” Jase says and reaches out to pat a hand on my leg beside him. But when the pat is done, he doesn’t move his hand.

Operation Live-A-Little.

This is temporary, is it not? My being here with Jase? The man stated he wanted me and here I am debating morals when I need to just say fuck it and do exactly what Jase suggested—live a little.

“Jase?”

He hums, his breath warm against my bare thigh.

“What did you mean when you said you couldn’t? With me?”

He stills.

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before shifting onto his side and tilting his head up to meet my gaze.

“I promised my brother,” he murmurs. “That we wouldn’t cross the line.” He swallows. “Or rather, that I wouldn’t.”

My chest tightens. “Why?”

His lips press together, like he’s debating telling me the truth. Finally, he exhales. “Because I have a way of ghosting people once I do. You know, the typical guy thing. Chase until you get what you want, get it, then push them away.”

I hum, tracing a slow pattern against his scalp.

I appreciate his honesty. The truth in his words. And maybe the underlying whatever it is that he’s not speaking. I hear his admission—that he’s a player—but that’s not what I see and I want to understand the why behind it.

But that’s for another time. For when I can sit and tell myself I’m trying to justify why I want this man when I swore off wanting men.

Bite the bullet, Hendrix.

“That would make it difficult to carry out our pretend marriage if we weren’t talking.”

He huffs a laugh. “True.”

“I mean, if you want press, I’m sure the icy glares from the newly wedded wife from across the room at one of the functions we’re scheduled to go to would do it.”

“No doubt.”

“But I don’t exactly think that’s what Nathaniel and your agent were going for when they set this up.”

“Definitely not,” he says as his own thumb begins to rub back and forth over my thigh.

I hesitate, then push. “But wouldn’t it make it just as difficult if we avoided each other at home, but had to be all lovey-dovey in public and . . .”

“Why would we avoid each other at home?” he asks.

I take a deep breath and pray I’m not wrong in how I’m reading him or his comments because if I am, this is going to be morbidly embarrassing. “Because we both felt the same way. Because we both wanted to test these waters. Because the wanting goes both ways.”

Silence.

Jase sits up, shifting into a seated position, studying me across the dim light. His blue eyes darken, something heavy settling between us.

His tongue darts out between his lips as my pulse begins to race. “Ask me what you’re going to ask me, Hendrix.”