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I'm going to spend the evening in Nathan's bed.
And we're going to pretend to be engaged.
This is going to be the best day of my life.
But he shakes his head, takes a step back out of my arms, and says words that send my heart plummeting to my toes. "You're not a prostitute. And if you were, there's nothing wrong with that, but you're not. I'd be taking advantage of you, and I won't do that."
I stare at him, struggling to find the words to tell him that I don't see things the same way. He's not taking advantage of me. I want him. More than I should.
But before I can find the right words in a magical order to make him change his mind, he shakes his head. "The sooner I can call my parents, the better."
"We can figure things out on the fly, too," I say, swallowing with effort. I want to cry, but for now, I need to smooth things over. "So call them and we'll figure it out as we go." Why my heart is already feeling like it's breaking?
Chapter Seven
Nathan
Kissing Stacia had been a foolish move on my part. I could lie and tell her – and try to convince myself – that I’d kissed her to see if we could be convincing as a fake couple, but that was just an excuse.
I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to feel her melt in my arms. But I hadn’t expected her to surrender so wholly, to offer to go to bed with me, or for the look on her face when I turned her down. A look that told me it might have been kinder to slap her across the face. A look that’ll no doubt haunt me for a while.
My hands shake as I end the call with my parents, barely aware of their reactions, their joy, their stress, their excitement…
All I can think about is Stacia, out in the other room, thinking who knows what about me.
It’s a stressful thought, that she's likely worried I don't want her or that I'd think less of her if we did fall into bed. I don't give a damn about paying her for her time. It's not paying her for sex, but I'd had no other way to put distance between us when the real thing holding me back was fear.
Fear that if I took her to bed, I might not be able to let her go when this is all said and done.
Damn it. I push the phone into my pocket and grip the edge of the counter so tightly my knuckles go white.
"Nathan?" Stacia's breathless voice from the other room has my vision going double. I want her so damn bad. "Everything okay in here?"
She'd left me alone to make the call, but as I stand in the master bath, fighting for control over my body and urges, I feel a wave of guilt crashing over me.
I didn’t want to feel guilt. I really, really didn’t. But as I look at her in the mirror, standing in the doorway with concern in her eyes, a new thought occurs to me.
I’m going to wind up in bed with this woman at some point. Deal or not, at some point after today, I’ll be getting her naked. And the thought of it makes me sick with guilt.
I’ve never been one to shy away from sex, or to overanalyze my erections, to question whether they’re genuine or not. But this is different. This is Stacia.
I’m not trying to pretend she’s some stranger whom I’ve picked up in an event, or a woman who's been chasing me for a while that's into no-strings-attached sex, or even an old friend with benefits. Stacia is, well, Stacia. The most honest, genuine person I know. And if I go to bed with her, if I fall in love with her and lose her... it'll gut me.
“How was it?” she asks softly.
I shrug. “Not sure. They seemed happy.” I try to recall the conversation, but I can’t for the life of me.
But the relief in Stacia’s eyes warms me up inside.
I’ve never felt this way before, never cared so much about hurting someone else, and I know it makes no sense. After all, we've had maybe a handful of conversations before today. This vacation with her has been crazy, wonderful, and exciting, and I don't want any of that to end. And if we have to go back to the real world and what’s waiting for us there, I'm frankly not interested. I don’t want to go back to our lives - I want to stay here with her for as long as she's willing.
The thing is, I don’t even know why it’s happening. I don’t do love, attachment, relationships. And I definitely don’t do any of those with people who work for me.
What the hell am I doing? Why the hell am I making false promises to a woman who can never be mine? Why the hell am I doing this to myself and her?
I keep saying the right words, but the only words I want to say are those I can’t. I want to tell Stacia that I’m afraid I'll fall for her, and I’m not sure how I can stop myself if we're faking being engaged. I want to tell her that I want to stay here - in my cabin - with her, for as long as she's willing, but that would be beyond insane, and I don’t even know if I could get her to go along with it.
"You seem tense." She walks up behind me and begins to rub my shoulders, her deft fingers working the strain from my neck.
