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She didn’t need to know I’d spent my night tossing and turning, studying him in the dark every time my eyes popped open, which seemed to be about every hour.
Still under the influence of the potato, no doubt. I traced over his every feature. The dark, wavy hair smoothed back from his forehead and the disgustingly long lashes a woman would kill for. Stretched out on his back, he fell asleep where he laid, his hand up over his head, the other drawing my gaze to where his palm rested against the deep V carved along his abs, his long fingers curled along his jeans brushing the bulge behind his zipper.
Every time he stretched, I held my breath, waiting to see if the waistband slid lower.
By the time early morning filtered through the gauzy curtains, I had a seething lady boner and a raging clit shaking her angry fist.
God, but he was beautiful and so very different from… well, anyone.
Any other time, I would have just grabbed a toy or two, disappeared into the bathroom, and taken care of business, but I couldn’t bring myself to give up the view. I probably should have just touched myself right there beside him. He slept like the dead.
But by the time I got out of bed, he’d finally shifted, and the position was photographic gold. I ducked out while he was in the shower, but not before sending Chance another message while ignoring his litany of threats in dozens of others.
I pushed his buttons on the other side of the world and pushed a few more here. Hey, I took my normalcy where I could get it.
A firm hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed.
“Good morning.” Nick aimed the words at the table before bending down and stopping right next to my cheek. His hand drifted to my neck, his fingers tangling in the hair along my nape. With a tug, he turned me toward him just enough to settle his lips along the shell of my ear.
“You’re in so much trouble, spawn. When I get you alone, it’s payback time.”
My nipples tightened to painful points.
Saint Nick must have checked his messages from Chance.
The low rasp of his voice vibrated over me. Warm, minty breath brushed along my skin, sending a powerful burn singing through my blood. The two conspired against me, tapping into the unfulfilled, furious lust from my long horny night stuck between my beloved toy arsenal and Nick’s hard, languid body.
He drew my face to his and soundly claimed my mouth in a slow, deep kiss. His tongue caressed mine with unhurried long strokes while his fingertips kneaded my flesh. The combination left me a puddle of humming, aroused mush sinking in my seat.
A little over twelve hours ago, I told Nick he couldn’t handle me.
Now I had to wonder if I could handle him.
It took one potato and two bone-melting kisses before I realized the game we played. Every time I thought I had the upper hand he’d strike.
So far, the score was his three to my zero.
CHAPTER6
Nick
The second kiss told me I was in deep shit.
What was supposed to be a private word of warning for the picture she snapped of me in the early morning hoursanda sign of affection for the table became possession.
The minute I tasted her again, it sparked a craving.
The mini bar was powerless to erase her taste. I spent a disgusting amount of time in the shower, fucking my fist, biting my forearm to keep her name from spilling from my lips.
Satisfyingly dissatisfied, yeah, I know, it made no sense, but here we were. And when I was done, I stepped out of the bathroom to find her gone.
In the silence of our room, her brown sugar and vanilla voodoo body wash scent still lingering, want flooded me. In that singular moment, the only thing I could think about was when I could taste her again.
Ignoring everyone at the table including my own parents—definitely unlike me—I reached for her. And if anyone was unclear about where I stood with Charlie McAllister, they weren’t now.
My fake girlfriend got less and less fake with every laugh, every touch, and every shared breath.
Fuck me.
