Page 46 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Or we can acknowledge that there’s chemistry between us and see where it goes. No pressure, no expectations. Just see what happens.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s see what happens.”

He grinned. “Okay.”

He pulled me closer, tucking me against his chest. I should have felt awkward. Instead, I felt comfortable. Safe. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had held me like this, but it felt damn good.

“Do you want me to go?”

I hesitated. “No.”

“Then I’m staying.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “If that’s okay.”

More than okay. It was perfect.

I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the feeling of being held. Tomorrow I could worry about what this meant.

I woke and immediately felt the unfamiliar weight of an arm draped across my waist. For a disoriented moment, I couldn’t remember why there was a man in my bed.

Then everything came rushing back.

Oh God.

Adrian.

I had slept with my fiancé.

I slowly turned my head, not wanting to wake him. He was still asleep, which meant I could stare at him for a few minutes. His dark hair was messed up and there was the faintest shadow of stubble along his jaw. His features were relaxed, like he was completely at peace.

He was too good looking to be simply called handsome. He was objectively, undeniably beautiful.

And he was in my bed.

I should be panicking. But I wasn’t. I felt calm.

That overwhelming, paralyzing nervousness that made me freeze up and forget how to function had vanished sometime between the first kiss and the third orgasm.

Nothing like three orgasms to break the ice, apparently.

Adrian stirred beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as he made a low, sleepy sound. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on me, and for a second we just stared at each other.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Hi.” His voice was rough with sleep. He looked at me, like he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. “Good?”

That one word was all that was needed. I knew what he was asking. I smiled. “Very good.”

He nodded. “Okay then, I have a very important question.”

“What?”

“Do you have coffee in this apartment? If not, does DoorDash deliver here?”

I laughed, climbing out of bed and not missing the way his eyes tracked my movements. “I have instant coffee and a microwave. Will that work for a billionaire?”

“Elizabeth, after last night, I’d drink gas station coffee if that’s what you had.”

I pulled on his shirt from last night and padded toward my tiny kitchen. Behind me, I heard him get up, heard the rustle of him finding his pants.