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"So, what do you say?” He bends his knees and peers into my eyes. You pose as my fiancée on a trip home. In return, I help you show that asshole that you’ve moved on from him for good."
16
Rick
Her frown deepens. "Can I think it over?"
"There’s nothing to think over. It’s a neat solution to all of our problems. Also, the team thinks we’re engaged."
"And whose fault is that?" She glowers at me.
Mine, and I’m not apologetic about it. Though, no one was more surprised than me when I said it. It seems my sub conscience was several steps ahead of me, as usual. Once I heard myself speak, I was convinced it was the right way forward.
"Of course, considering they haven’t seen us kiss or hold hands, we’ll have to convince them about our intentions toward each other."
I tilt my head and allow the lust to, once more, diffuse my features. The air between us heats at once. I can see she senses the chemistry, for her lips part.
Her breathing grows choppy, then she glances away. "No thank you," she says in a prim voice. "If we did this and"—she raises a finger—"I’m only sayingif, then there’ll be no sex."
"No sex with others." I nod. "You didn’t have to say that. Once I commit, I’m all in."
"No, no, no." She shoves her fingers through her hair, and a strand breaks free from that complicated hairdo she loves to wear. "I mean, no sex with each other."
"Okay." The moment the word is out, I curse myself. That wasn’t convincing at all. The suspicion in her eyes confirms my suspicion.
"So, you’re fine with sleeping on the couch?"
Hell, no.I wince. “That sofa wasn’t made for sleeping, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
She purses her lips. “It’s not the most comfortable piece of furniture in the room,” she admits.
That’s an understatement. The couch is not one of those pieces of furniture that encourages you to sink into it. It’s straight-backed and feels out of place in comparison to the cushioned armchairs, which seem to have come from a different set.
She begins to speak but I hold up my hand. “I promise, I won’t share the bed if that reassures you about my intentions.”
“So you won’t sleep on the couch or on the bed?” She frowns.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Is that a trick question?” Her eyes flash. “For the record, I don’t trust your intentions, but considering you haven’t left me with much of a choice..." Her shoulders slump. All at once, she looks defeated and tired. I notice the dark circles under her eyes, the hollows under her cheekbones.
"Have you not been sleeping well?" I walk toward her. "And when was the last time you ate?"
"Okay, hold on. We need some boundaries. You don’t need to put on the act of a caring fiancé when we’re on our own." She gulps as I come to a stop in front of her.
I look down at her from my immense height. She’s so much shorter than me. And slimmer. Even soaking wet, I’d be able to carry her with ease. Which I would have if I were her fiancé, which I’m not, as she’s reminded me. Instead I nod, then
"—also"—she swallows—"you can hand over my Louboutins."
“Eh?”
“My pumps. Can I have my pumps, please?”
I shake my head. "So you can heave them at me again? I don't think so." I walk past her and head toward the part of the room that doubles up as the sleeping area.
"Where are you going?" she calls after me.
I veer toward the closet, slide it open, then walk over to the row of shelves opposite my clothes and place them on the bottom shelf. When I turn, it’s to find her staring at her stilettos with a strange look on her face. "What is it?"
