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I crane my neck to stare up at him. The dim light makes him look like some sort of beautiful giant, a being that definitely doesn’t belong in this world.
My throat is suddenly lined with needles, and I can’t swallow. His nearness is choking me. I’m surrounded by notes of fresh clean cotton, musk and something that I’ve learnt is just Harrison. I’m drunk on him and my own arousal. It floods my every sense and clouds my rational thoughts, making me feel like I should lean closer and touch my lips to his.
There’s a whisper of sanity somewhere here, and I should find it. But with the way Harrison’s eyes are flaming with desire and him almost touching his chin to his chest to stare at me, I think I’m about to lose it.
“Zoey.” The low timbre of his voice vibrates through where our bodies connect as I instinctively lean closer to him. Close enough that I can feel his hot breath only a whisper away from my lips. The whole world could be on fire right now and I’d have no clue, because all I see is him. All I feel is him.
And then I don’t.
He sidesteps out of the space we’ve wedged ourselves in, between the sofa and the coffee table, and I’m left feeling like I’ve been slapped with a wet fish. That harsh dose of reality really stings when you’re desperate.
He mutters a curse, but all I hear is static because I very nearly kissed my soon to be fake husband because I’m desperate and horny. And I really want to fuck him.
I snap my gaping mouth closed and manage to say the only word in my vocabulary these days. “Horny,” I whimper and immediately yelp, realising my error as his eyes widen. “Oh my God, I meant Hi. Hello, Hola, anything that doesn’t mean horny and means hello instead.” I collapse onto the sofa, close my eyes and throw my face into my hands, wishing there was a black hole around here that I could crawl into and die inside. “Fuck,” I groan.
Then I hear it; it’s a low, deep tickle of a noise that stops my breathing altogether. It gets louder and deeper as he increases the tempo of his… laughter. He’s laughing at me.
When our eyes connect, his laughter slows, and he tries to regain some of his usual composure by taking a deep breath and then staring up at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry.” He trembles on the apology and coughs to cover up another laugh. If you ask me, it’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard. “I’m not laughing at you.”
“Funny, it feels like you are.”
He shakes his head, a smile still beaming from him. “I’m not, promise. It’s just… It’s like you reached into my mind and plucked the one word I was thinking.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re horny too?”
The laughter dies in his throat. “I’m currently living with a beautiful woman who I can’t touch. What do you think?”
Well, fuck. I hadn’t really thought he’d be feeling the same. We agreed to sleep separately, and I assumed he would be fine with it.
“But we should probably still not… you know.”
“Fuck?” I offer.
He smiles, obviously still amused. “Confuse things, I was going to say.”
Right. He’s right. “Stick to the plan,” I confirm, standing as I inch away from him. The ache in my body has simmered down, but I can’t risk being around him still and God forbid he reached for something and flexed in front of me. I need to get a handle on this. “I’m gonna head to bed.”
He groans. “Zoey?”
I close my eyes, spin on the balls of my feet as I turn and open my eyes cautiously. “Hm?”
“We good?”
I nod and smile. “Of course.”
When I get to my room, I realise this is going to be the longest year of my life.
Chapter 23
Harrison
Thisisgoingtobe the longest year of my life.
The last twenty-eight days have been testing enough.
Seriously, being around Zoey is, in some ways, so easy. She’s such a force of nature that it’s impossible not to bask in her light. But it’s also impossible because I think I’ve made a deal I can’t keep. I want her in a way that a fake husband shouldn’t want her. I want her in a way that our business arrangement didn’t detail.
