Chapter 17

seventeen

Nevaeh

“You’re getting a new number,” Kane grumps from the kitchen as he smacks my phone back on the counter where I’d left it when I refilled my cup of coffee. He’d been going for his third refill when my phone chimed. I can only imagine by the murderous look in his eyes that it had either been Antonio or Kate, both of which text and call repeatedly every day. Every day, their messages, both text and voice go unchecked.

I’m not interested in what either of them have to say.

“Someone’s grumpy this morning.” I peer over the lid of my laptop at him, biting the inside of my cheeks when he stops to stare at me. Oh, yes. Definitely grumpy. “Are you sleeping okay?”

He swallows, stiffening. “Why do you ask?”

I shrug, sliding my half-nibbled Santa from beside my laptop to bring it in for another nibble. “You look tired, is all.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it work?”

My phone chimes and I swear the man grinds his teeth. I take another nervous nibble as fire flares in the frost of those eyes. Through the grind, he growls, “New number, Nevaeh. Today.”

“Okay,” I say simply, because they’ve kind of forced my hand. I’d blocked them both. They’d both found alternate numbers to harass me from.

It would suck, however, to change my number. Old client’s text for all kinds of things and would now have to communicate exclusively through my website. Oh well. It’s clearly just the way my cookie is crumbling.

I continue nibbling as Kane continues fixing his coffee before taking a hefty chug. I feel one brow inch high as I watch him, because there’s no way the man is sleeping. At least not well. How, I’ve no idea. I sleep like a dang baby in his softer than a cloud spare bed. Surely the bed he sleeps in is even better. Still, the man looks worse every day.

Not worse, worse, because I don’t think the man could look bad if he tried. But he doesn’t look like the energetic Kane I’ve come to know, and that’s getting worse every day.

Maybe he’s sick.

I know every time Dad needs to see a doctor, Mom hounds him for at least a month before she finally gives up and makes him an appointment that he doesn’t dare miss, because she’s threatened him to within an inch of his life.

Is it my job as the fake fiancée to hound the man to get seen? Should I make him an appointment?

Does the man even have a regular doctor? Maybe I should get him in with mine.

“Do you have a family doctor?”

Kane’s eyes slide to me, and his brows draw together. “Why?”

“Curious,” I evade the question. “Just one of those things a wife should know.”

“No.”

“Ah.”

He’s still frowning. “Do you?”

“Of course.” His frown has yet to break. “I’m sure you can see mine if you need.”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

Typical man. “Everyone needs a doctor.”

“Sunshine.” He pulls in breath through his nose. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing.” I slide my nearly finished Santa to the table before I slide from the chair to move in close. He watches me, his eyes taking in my little butter yellow sleep shorts that peek out from the over-sized long sleeve that hangs down to expose one golden shoulder. My hair is pulled over the other shoulder in a thick, loose braid.

I know for a fact I’m cute.

Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I made sure of it before I left my room this morning. Made sure that when he looked, because Kane always looked, that he’d want.

I don’t know why I’m trying to tempt him. Really, I don’t.

The truth is that I’m not sure I’m ready for a man like Kane. I’m not sure I’m ready for any man at all—and yet…

Yet, I want him to want me. I want him to push me and—I want to push him, too.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t answer as I continue moving closer to the man. When I’m standing directly in front of him, I lean back against the counter and press my palms to the granite, lifting myself to sit on it.

Kane is still watching me, but the grump is mostly gone, replaced by curiosity, and maybe a little bit of heat.

I spread my legs wide and pat the counter between them, ignoring the pounding of my heart and the throb in my core as his blue eyes drop between my legs and he wets his lips.

“Sunshine.” Did I hear that right? Did his voice just crack? “What are you doing?”

“Turn around and come here,” I instruct firmly.

His frown returns. “Turn around? For what?”

“First rule of peaceful cohabitation with a woman.” I give him a cheeky smile. “Do what she tells you.”

His smirk turns flirty. “Tell me more about this peaceful cohabitation.”

“Well—” My words are cut short when he steps between my legs—facing me. That throb in my core intensifies until it’s nearly painful. I haven’t had a man that’s so much—well, man between my legs in my whole life.

“Go on,” he urges, but there’s a taunt to it that I just can’t back down from. “Tell me about living with a woman. This woman.” His breath is warm on my neck as he leans close to whisper against my pulse. “Tell me, Sunshine, the secrets to living with my woman.”

Oh boy.

My breath shudders on an exhale, but I push through it, determined to match him while ignoring the way I freaking love how he just called me his woman. Ahh, but I shouldn’t love how decadently delicious that sounds. How sweetly—wrongly—achingly addictive that possessiveness is.

There are things wrong with me. Very, very wrong.

“She likes a lot of things.”

“Like?” His lips brush my skin, the first and only contact he’s made with me yet this morning. It ignites me. “Tell me what makes you smile. What you like. What will make this cohabitation peaceful.”

“I like knowing a big man is here at night, every night.” A deep murmur rumbles in the space between us, stroking me like a physical caress. “I like feeling safe.”

“More.”

“I like hot baths late at night, with candles, scented water, and bubbles.”

“Mmm.” A flick of his tongue against my fluttering pulse, and wet pools in my panties. “Go on.”

I bite back a moan. “I like learning about you.”

“We’re learning about you right now, Sunshine.”

“Oh.” Another shuddering breath. “I like—I like…” Why can’t I think?

“You like?”

“When you kiss me.” Well, poop, I’ve really gone and done it now. My mouth runs away from my thoughts. “You don’t do it enough.”

Boundaries meet obliteration.

“I’ll rectify that immediately.”

I pull away when he moves in to claim my mouth, because I started this with a purpose, and I’m not finished until I’m finished.

“Ah-uh.” I touch his lips with my fingertip, shaking my head as his eyes snap to my mouth. A cool, dark hunger simmers in the deep. My damn panties are probably drenched. “First rule is to listen to her, though, and you’ve already failed.”

A brow lifts. “How?”

“I told you to turn around and come close. You never turned around.”

With a curious look, Kane does as he’s told. As soon as he gives me his back, I lift my hands and begin working the knots of his muscles. The man’s chin drops into his chest, and he murmurs a low, delicious growl of pleasure that I imagine he’ll make when he’s coming unstitched inside me.

Ah.No! Nevaeh, no.

You can’t sleep with your fake fiancé!

But I can fantasize.

Which is why I’ve ordered two vibrators. Thankfully, both will arrive sometime today.

I work the tension from his back until my hands are aching. When he turns back to face me again, he looks a little more refreshed. A little less on edge. And the hard around his eyes is soft now, almost sleepy.

“Thank you.” It’s a real, genuine gratefulness that has my chest feeling full. As though it’s expanding with something—with him, maybe, because he’s invading faster than I thought possible.

“Welcome.” I clear my throat because I’m starting to feel too much. Hot all over is just one thing I’m feeling. I need a shower. “I should go get ready for the day.”

Kane stops me from sliding off the counter when he doesn’t move his big body from between my legs. Instead, he murmurs roughly, “Now, about that kiss.”

“Oh.” I’m about to protest, but I don’t have time before he moves in and claims it. He devours my protest and the little whimper that follows as his big hand cups the side of my face gently, as though I’m a breakable, cherished, priceless piece he can’t live without.

The man is so big he towers over me, even with me sitting on the counter. I love how big he is, how small and safe I feel in his arms. How tender he holds me.

I’m getting ideas. Bad, boundary breaking ideas.

All thoughts of boundaries are obliterated when he nips my bottom lip, making me gasp. He takes advantage, sweeping his tongue into my mouth. Tasting me.

Driving me wild.

When I’m dizzy and dazed, breathless and turned on beyond belief, he pulls back and shoots me a grin. I already know without having seen it before that it’s hooked and shattered a thousand hearts before my own. I’m just the lucky girl standing next in line.

I should run before I lose the chance, before the damage done is irreparable.

I don’t.

I can’t.

I’ll live with the damage when it comes to that, and it will come to that. I have a sixth sense about these things, and it’s screaming that I’m going to fall for this man. Hard. Even though I know it’s fake. Even though I know we have an expiration date.

I’m in trouble.