Page 26 of His Fake Fiancé

“You okay?”

The question snapped her back to the present. She glanced over at the bed. Jake had moved and was now sitting on the edge, staring at her. “You sort of zoned out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, although it came out all croaky. Why was she being such a weirdo? This was Jake, who’d she known her entire life. She was letting her stupid infatuation—and her imagination—run away from her.

Jake bounced up and down on the mattress. “This bed is super comfortable.”

Heat shot through her, making her skin prickle. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. What could she actually say to that? Her brain tipped over into the gutter almost immediately.

She saw her and Jake in the bed together, tangled in the sheets and each other. Her lips tingled with an echo of the kiss from the bar. His skin would be hot, like she was pressed up against a furnace, and she’d burrow against him, soaking up the heat. And then he would—

“Sleeping on that pull out in the living room is going to be killer.”

Again, his voice startled her back to reality, and she blinked him back into focus. “What?”

Jake gave her his patented what-is-up-with-you look, which consisted of narrowed eyes and a scrunched up mouth. Even that was cute. “The pull out in the other room. I’m sure it’s going to be super uncomfortable.”

Her brain had obviously turned to mush, because it took far too many moments for his words to penetrate her lust filled haze. Jake, sleeping on the pullout. And that was not disappointing in the least.

The desire to tell him it was okay, they could probably share the bed in here, burned the back of her tongue. But her self-preservation kicked in before she could say something she couldn’t take back. Because that idiotic move would have had exactly two outcomes. The first would have been Jake laughing at her, treating it all like a joke. She might have been able to pretend to laugh it off, but it would have killed her on the inside.

The second would have been him actually taking her up on the offer, and then having to be inches away, and yet miles apart from him, every night. Although the blow wouldn’t have been as sudden, it would have been even more deadly. Like a slow acting poison, slowly eating her alive from the inside out.

What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

Jake finished brushing his teeth, rinsed out his mouth, and then snapped off the bathroom light. He was not looking forward to spending the next however many nights sleeping on the pullout sofa bed. His back ached just thinking about it.

He yawned and walked down the hall toward the living room. The light over stove was on, casting an eerie glow down the hall. Man, he was exhausted. Who knew that moving could be so bloody tiring?

It seemed to take every ounce of his waning energy just to get his feet to move. He probably should have waited for someone to help him move the furniture from Olivia’s nursery into the guest house, but he’d been impatient. Which was nothing new. His stupidity, coupled with the stupid bed was probably going to be murder on his body.

Maybe he’d be exhausted enough he’d sleep like the dead and then wouldn’t have to worry about it at least until tomorrow night.

He turned the corner and something smacked into him. It wasn’t too hard, but he took a step back just the same in order to keep his balance.

Claire oofed and reached out to steady herself, grabbing onto his bicep with one hand, and planting her other hand on his stomach. Her hand was cold on his bare skin, and he sucked in a quick breath, goosebumps breaking out across his abs.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide. The dim light had to be playing tricks on him, because there was what looked like panic in her gaze. He placed his hand on her arm, the movement reflexive, the need to comfort her overwhelming him. She was wearing a tank top, and her skin was cool to the touch. She shivered and sucked in a quiet breath, her mouth falling open.

Automatically, he ran his hand along her upper arm, trying to warm her up. His gaze caught on her mouth, and for some reason, the kiss they’d shared at the bar came flooding back to him. It had been unexpectedly hot and he found the same heat coursing through him now. The urge to kiss her again, to taste her, to see if she was just as sweet as he remembered, washed through him.

He shuffled forward a little, inching closer to her. She shivered again, but just continued to stare up at him, a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. He should really make sure she was okay and then go to bed. And he was going to, any second now.

Claire tilted her head back and it was almost like she was moving her face toward his. Like she wanted him to kiss her. She slipped her hand on his stomach around to his side, her soft skin sliding against his. It was his turn to shiver.

He bent his head, moving closer and closer. Anticipation made his skin tingle.

Just before his lips met hers, she made a squeaking noise and jumped away from him. Disappointment crashed through him.

“Sorry,” she said, although her voice came out all breathy. He had no idea if she was apologizing for bumping into him, or the almost kiss. Not that it mattered.

She scooted around him, heading for her bedroom. He turned and watched her go. She was wearing a dark grey tank top and some little pink shorts and all of her curves were on display. And why was he looking at her curves?

This was Claire, and she was wearing pajamas. Granted, those pajamas fit her well. But he’d seen her in much less in the summer, when she was wearing a bathing suit. His dick didn’t seem to care that it was Claire, though, and that she was perfectly decent and covered up, because it had already started to get hard.

She stopped in the doorway and looked at him over her shoulder. Her blonde hair shimmered in the shadows. Fuck, how had he never realized just how beautiful she was before now?

“Good night, Jake.” The words were quiet, just barely above a whisper, and then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.