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“Seems you now understand how I felt when I found you in mine.” It’s not a question.
“I was in your bathroom.”
“Attached to my bedroom you had to pass through.”
“I had to pee,” I argue, “and that bathroom by the door you mentioned was not easy to see. I never saw it.”
“You didn’t look very hard.”
“I had to pee,”I repeat. “When a girl has to pee, she has to pee. I had a reason for entering your room. What is yours visiting mine?”
“I could tell you I just wanted to ensure you packed for a long stay, but I’m not one to play games, Bella. The truth is you saw my room. I wanted to see yours.”
I open my mouth to say, “you saw a whole lot more of me than I did you,” but quickly press my lips together before I regret where I take this. As for my room, it’s my space, my private sanctuary with a massive four-poster bed, a cozy chair, a bench, and lots of creams and blues. It’s for me, not for him, but he’s not going to leave because I insist that he leaves, so I don’t bother to push. “What did you mean pack for an extended stay? Do we have meetings set-up?”
“I set an appointment with the new studio head for tomorrow at three. From what my insider tells me, he’s a prick who likes to kill projects that existed before he did. If we can get into the competing studio before that, I think that would be smart.”
“I left the competing studio head a message earlier. Dash agreed to negotiate with both studios.”
He arches a brow. “You told him what’s going on?”
“I did. I decided it was for the best.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He glances at his watch again. “We need to go,” he says firmly. “If you hurry, you’ll have time to change into something more comfortable, but it needs to be fast.”
“Right. I’ll be right down.” It’s a hint for him to leave while we have our clothes on and to seal that deal, I rotate and reach into my suitcase, digging for options. I remove a pair of jeans and a sweater to change into, then zip my bag. When I turn, intendingto change, I run smack into Tyler’s big, hard body, and drop my clothes on the ground. His hands come down on my arms, a hot branding, as he steadies me, and he says, “Easy there, sweetheart, before you take me down.”
I’m fairly certain the soft, roughened-up words could be taken several ways, but all I can think of right now is his hands on my body, with the bed right behind us. He could easily maneuver me two steps, and I’d be on my back with him on top of me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tyler
I stand in front of Bella, with the bed right behind her, and I want my hands all over her body, not her shoulders. She is so damn beautiful in ways that no other woman has ever been beautiful to me, and I can’t even explain what that means. But right now, in this moment, I think of her efforts to “save” me from grief—this gorgeous woman, my employee—and I want to tell her, yes. Save me. Marry me. Or not. Fake it with me.
But I hold back.
I hold back because her being beautiful doesn’t give me the right to claim her in any way. Of course, I knew she was beautiful when I hired her. I also knew she was smart and savvy in negotiations and with people. She was a win for Hawk Legal and there was never a possibility I would touch her or any other employee.Until I did and Allison ended up dead, I think. That was then and this is now.
It’s a brutal enough thought to work me over.
I release her and step backward before she ends up on the bed, right behind her, where I want her, naked and preferably bent over that mattress. That way I can’t see her gorgeous blue eyes and familiar face that remind me that she is not just some hot chick I’m banging. There is more to this than her hot body and my hard cock.
This is exactly why Bella cannot be a part of my plan to defeat my father’s ridiculous marriage clause in the will. The very fact that she came to my mind before I ever left my father’s attorney is unacceptable. I swore I would never touch Bella again, and that means I won’t touch her again. And yet, I came to her homewith the idea that she was my perfect, fake fiancée. I came to this bedroom knowing I wanted to fuck her and if she were my fiancée, fake or not, I’d have an excuse to allow myself that guilty pleasure.
I need out of this room.
“Leave your bag at the top of the stairs,” I say. “I’ll carry it down for you.” I turn with the intent of leaving.
“Tyler.”
My name on her lips is sweet bliss and brutal temptation. I want my cock between her lips, on her tongue the way she was on my tongue. I resist turning around, counting to five first, to allow my body, my cock to be specific, to calm the fuck down. It doesn’t work, but I grit my teeth and turn around anyway. “Yes, Bella?”
“The suitcase is ready. I know we’re in a rush and...”
I tune out the rest of the sentence, at least, for the most part, too busy thinking about kissing the words from her lips and other fantasies that involve her on her knees.
“If you don’t mind?” she asks.
