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Breath fills my lungs as I spin around in his arms, placing my hands on his chest as I lift my gaze to his. “I want you to sleep in the bed tonight, but I don’t want… I’m not ready to do anything.” I’m grasping at straws here, wanting to take things slow with him. Ever since the first day of the competition, we’ve been getting closer and closer.
But I can’t afford the distraction. I need to focus on winning.
“Okay,” he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“That’s it? Okay? Aren’t you going to try to convince me to sleep with you?”
His lip quirks. “Is that what you want me to do?”
“No.”
“Well, there you go.”
“You’re too nice. It’s weird.”
Fallon’s eyes grow shadowed. He gives me a sad smile, then jerks his head to the bathroom. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”
When we finally climb into the fresh bedsheets together, Fallon doesn’t even pretend to stay on his side. He hooks his arm around my waist and tugs me close, shifting his hand up to rest just under my breast. Behind me, his cock throbs, but he makes no move to do anything about it.
I blink, staring out in the darkened room, heart thundering.
There’s too much going on. I gave up on Fallon a year ago, when his ex showed up in town and I had to choose. Now he’s here, and it looks like he never gave up on me. He kissed me like the world was ending, and now he’s holding me like I’m precious.
I’ve never had this.
My one, singular boyfriend was a biomechanical engineer who had his life planned out in a spreadsheet. I ticked the boxes for the woman he wanted—literally, he had a checklist—but there was none of this heart-racing, body-heating reaction to his touch.
His name was Will, and he never proposed to me. He just…assumed we’d get married. One day he started talking about the tax implications of marriage, and how it made sense for us to head to the courthouse.
I almost agreed, until he started talking about me staying home with the kids. Frowning, I asked him what he meant, because I’d been very clear that I didn’t want kids. I wanted to focus on my career in tech.
And he laughed. I remember his exact words. He said, “If you won’t have my kids, what the hell is the point of all this?”
We broke up the next week, and he was married with a baby on the way a year later.
I know I’m not some incredible catch in the romance department. I’m neurotic and obsessive and hate compromises. My body has never been amazing. I was too skinny as a kid, and I grew into a pretty flat-chested, bony adult. Now, things have started sagging, wrinkling, and graying around the edges, and it’s even more obvious that I’m past my prime.
But having someone dismiss me and replace me so easily? That stung.
Fallon’s breath deepens, and I know he’s asleep. He huffs, his breath flicking a strand of my hair over my neck, then shifts to press his body along the length of mine. His hand slides up to cup my breast and he mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, tightening his hold on me.
Is it completely pathetic that even that simple touch makes my body feel like a live wire? When I’m with Fallon, I don’t feel gray and wrinkly and old. I don’t feel like I’m past my prime. He makes me feel beautiful and attractive and wanted.
But how long will that last? How long until he sees me for who I am and decides that I don’t tick all his boxes?
Fallon’s hand gently squeezes my breast, sending a jolt of arousal down between my legs. “Sleep, Jen,” he murmurs. “I can hear your thoughts from all the way over here.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense.”
He huffs a laugh, nuzzling his face into my neck. “Shh.”
“Did you just shush me?” The nerve!
When Fallon’s thumb brushes over my nipple in a slow, torturous sweep, my eyes nearly roll back in my head. His voice is a growl when he says, “I can think of other ways to stop your mind from running away with you.”
I manage a huff. “You’re unbelievable.”
His teeth rasp against my earlobe, and I feel an unmistakable throb from his crotch. When he rolls me onto my back and props himself on his elbow above me, his eyes are dark, his face shadowed. “Do you want me to sleep on the cot?”
