Page 62 of Blue Line

“Take me to your bedroom, Weston.”

“You sure about this, Hadley Jane? This is crossing a line we agreed not to cross.” But one I really, really want to cross with you.

“I know.” She holds out her hand. “But I can’t keep up this charade anymore. I want you, and after last night, I know you want me too.” Her focus drops to my hard dick that I know she can see pushing against my sweats. “But it’s just sex. That’s it. I can’t offer you anything else.”

I swallow. No. I want to date you.

“Sex with you sounds good.”

In one swift movement, I lift her up and turn toward my room.

“I can walk,” she protests, swatting at my chest.

I chuckle, striding into my bedroom. “Maybe I enjoy taking care of you.” I set her on her feet. “Now strip.”

Ever so slowly, she lifts the edge of her shirt up and over her head, and I get my first glimpse of her tits. Glorious tits that I can’t wait to lavish with attention. As I take her in, she pushes her shorts down her legs and steps out of them.

“No underwear?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do you always skip underwear?”

She smirks, then her gaze drops to the engagement ring she’s still wearing.

“Nope, keep the ring on,” I demand, my dick getting even harder at the thought of fucking her while she’s wearing it. I know our engagement is fake. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pretend it’s not. That she really is my fiancée.

Just for tonight.

Just for right now.

Chapter twenty-five

Hadley

“Nope, keep the ring on.”

He takes a step closer to me like a predator on the hunt, and I can’t help the shiver that racks through me. I move backward until my ass hits the dresser. He prowls closer and cages me in, dropping his hands on either side of the dresser so I’m trapped. Or at least it gives the illusion that I’m trapped. If I asked him to move, he would. For as much as he’s acting dominating right now, I know that he’s really a sweetheart inside and would never hurt a hair on my head.

“But we’re not engaged. It’s fake.” My voice comes out in a whisper.

He leans closer, rubbing his nose along my jawline, his hard cock digging into me, and I fight the urge to grind against him. “What if it wasn’t?”

I peer up into his piercing gray eyes.

“Wes.” My voice is breathy. We just agreed to this thing between us being sex only, and now he’s saying that. “Did you hit your head on the ice? Are you concussed?” Where is this coming from? “Because you’re saying some ridiculous things, and I’m worried.”

He drops his hands, stepping back. “Not concussed. Just …” He runs a hand over his face. “Never mind. But keep it on. I want to fuck my fake fiancée wearing my ring on her finger and nothing else.” His eyes flare, and my body breaks out in goosebumps. “Wait. Will I need a safe word?”

“What is it with you and safe words, Weston?”

“I’ve got the perfect one, and I’ve been saving it.”

“Let’s hear it.” I brace myself, because who the hell knows what he’s going to say, but I’m also kind of curious as to what he’s come up with.

“Meatloaf.”

“Meatloaf?”

“Because I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that,” he sings, and I giggle.

“Wes,” I hiss playfully, smacking him on the chest. “Could you be any more ridiculous?”