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He steps towards me, eyes dancing with amusement. “I guess you’ll have to accept that your husband is a little bit of everything.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m not sure if it’s because of him calling himself my husband or because he might actually be a real life fantasy come true. “Are you telling me you can actually chop wood?”
He shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to take a camping trip for you to find out. I’ll even wear my flannel shirt for you.”
“Camping?” I ask, scrunching my nose.
“Not a fan?”
“No, I love sleeping on the freezing cold floor, peeing in bushes, and brushing my teeth with a bottle of water. What’s not to love?” I raise a sarcastic eyebrow.
“I’m changing your mind about camping. We’ll go soon.” He leans in to press a kiss to my forehead, and my heart swoops to my feet. Before I can react, he takes the case out of my hand, casually places his palm in the small of my back and ushers me to his car, and I finally register what he said. I stop myself from moving. “Oh, will we now?” His hand slips from my lower back to the top of my arse. A sharp inhale leaves me without my permission.
“Yes,wewill,” he says again. I angle myself towards him slightly, squint my eyes and cross my arms over my chest in defiance, giving him a chance to stop bossing me around. “I forget how stubborn you Bancroft’s are.” He laughs but doesn’t remove his hand that’s currently causing a wildfire to spread all over me.
“Themoststubborn. Also, we’re city folk. I have no desire to camp. Even with my future fake husband.” I flick my hair over my shoulder.
His eyes briefly flash with molten heat, but he blinks quickly, releasing his hold on me and rubbing his jaw in that insanely sexy way men do. “Now that you’ll be my wife,Zoey Clarke, you should know I like to spend time outside of the city limits, and you’ll have to come with me.”
Zoey Clarke. My stomach flip flops at him saying that out loud and with such… heat.
I’m far too turned on by the muscular man in front of me, but my brat side wants to play with him. I jut my chin towards him, trailing my index finger up his pec and along his collarbone, smiling when I swear I feel him tremble beneath me. “And if I don’t? What you gonna do about it?”
His finger hooks under my chin, forcing me to look into his deep brown eyes that threaten to swallow me whole. “Turns out, I happen to like tiny blonde bratty women who think they can get their own way. So go ahead, sweetheart, push me and see what happens.”
I practically swallow my tongue, unable to stop the amount of flush rushing to my cheeks. An instant wetness pools in my underwear because, right now, I’d love nothing more than to admit that my husband-to-be—the strong silent, protective man—is also a fucking dirty talker who would respectfully disrespect me in the bedroom.
Then I internally deflate, remembering that this is a fake arrangement.
But there’s sure as hell nothing fake about my reaction to him.
I clear my throat, stepping back towards his car, taking a full non-Harrison scented inhale. He watches me go with rapt attention, his eyes burning with fire again. His stare is too much and not enough all at once. Sending misfiring signals to my already confused and turned on brainandbody.
It’s fake, this is fake, I remind myself.
“Okay, you can take me camping,” I say, trying to diffuse the overwhelming feeling rushing around inside me.
Harrison steps forwards. Once, twice. Until he raises his arms, caging me against his car. He smells like fresh air and soft bedding, and something so inherently masculine I can’t seem to get enough when he’s this close to me.
“Mmm,” he hums, the vibration from his deep voice sparking something in my core. His eyes search my face slowly, his attention lethal and thrilling, making me want to drop to my knees for him. The intensity of his stare feels like a lover’s caress, and I feel drunk on it. “I love it when you surrender to me.”
I’m fucked. So fucking fucked.
Chapter 18
Harrison
“Wearegoingtohave to face your parents at some point, Zoey,” I say, watching her sip her fizzy drink through the straw. She picked the place for dinner, a cosy little burger place tucked away in Greenwich. We’re meeting Nora afterwards at a bar across the street.
She groans. “You’re wrong. I like living in a world where they don’t know something about me. Gives me a thrill.”
I laugh, taking a sip of my fizzy lemonade. “Let’s get it over with and tell them on the weekend.”
She side eyes me. “Are you always this sensible?”
“Sensible to a fault.” Except when it comes to you. I can’t always control where my thoughts go around her and that disarms me and brings out the side that not many have seen.
She relents, playfully rolling her blue eyes. “Fine, ruin my fun.”
