Page 31 of Heart Breaker

Lottie studies me, her lips pressed together in a thin line like she’s weighing my words. I watch her pulse beat quickly at her throat. She shifts, like she’s trying to put some space back between us even though neither of us actually steps away.

“It really doesn’t matter, Wes. We’re just pretending, right? And all of this was your idea. You’re the one who asked me to be your wife,” she fires back without hesitation and damn if my cock doesn’t love the push back.

“I don’t remember forcing you to do anything.”

She sighs and I can feel the agitation radiating off of her. “We can keep going around in circles about this if you want,” she says, glancing at the clock on the dresser. “But we’re going to be late for our wedding, so why don’t we agree to just be friends and leave it at that?”

I stare at her. I’m not sure how I can just be friends with Lottie now that I know how good it feels to kiss her. What I really want is to go back to kissing her, to take her out of that dress and bury my cock as deep as I can get inside of her.

I’ve never really been friends with a woman. Hell, I don’t even have many guys who are friends. Trust hasn’t come easy for me since everything that happened in high school. But I guess there’s a first time for everything. Because I know Lottie is probably right—we’re going to be living under the same roof for the next year, putting on this show for the press. It’s going to be challenging enough without complicating things.

“Fine. We’ll be friends.”

Something flickers across her face, but she quickly replaces it with a smile. “Great.”

She turns away from me, walks toward the dresser and grabs her clutch. She tucks it under her arm and glances at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hair back into place. When she turns back to face me, there’s tension in her jaw.

“We should probably get going,” she says softly, without meeting my eyes.

“Yeah,” I nod. “We should.”

She heads for the door, and I fall in step behind her, silence stretching out between us. My mind goes straight back to the kiss, to the way her lips felt against mine and the little sounds she made that made my brain cells clock out for the day.

Lottie Hart is a good kisser—the best kiss of my life, to be honest. But it shouldn’t have happened, because now it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to keep my hands off of her.

Fuck, I’m in trouble.

Someone put me out of my misery.

I follow her out of the room, watching the way she moves, her scent still clinging to me.

In a couple of hours, Lottie is going to be my wife.

And like a complete moron, I’ve already crossed a line I can’t come back from.

ELEVEN

Lottie

By the time we finish signing the last of the paperwork, there’s a heaviness in my chest that won’t go away. There’s something about seeing my name next to his in black ink that makes this whole thing feel very real. Even though I know it’s not. Not really.

The clerk behind the counter takes the forms from us with a polite, practiced smile, flipping through each page to make sure everything’s been completed properly. There’s the soft shuffle of paper, the click of a stamp, the quiet hum of a printer somewhere behind the desk.

“Everything looks good,” she says, setting the papers aside. “The officiant will be ready for you just through those doors.”

She gestures down a short hallway, and I glance over instinctively.

That’s it. That’s where it’s going to happen.

I’m getting married.

I nod, murmuring a quiet thank you, then look over at Wes. He stands beside me looking more handsome than any man has a right to be. His suit fits him perfectly—pressed and perfectly tailored in a way that makes it obvious it wasn’t pulled off a rack. The jacket sits tight across his shoulders, the lines crisp, the fabric molding to him.

His hair is styled perfectly but still looks effortless in that way he somehow manages, just enough to soften everything else about him. And his eyes—God, those smoke gray eyes. They find mine, just like they’ve been doing all day.

My phone buzzes in my hand, interrupting the moment.

Madeline: Checking in before you become Mrs. Winters. :) Just remember, no matter how fake this marriage is supposed to be, you never have to fake who you are. Love you xx