Page 48 of Make-Believe Match

He backed off immediately, and I rushed off the elevator into the hallway, taking a deep gulp of air. My head was spinning, but not just from the wine. I walked ahead of him all the way to our room, standing aside while he unlocked the door.

He held it open. “Would you like me to carry you across the threshold?”

“Very funny,” I said, hurrying inside. Grabbing the overnight bag I’d packed, I went into the bathroom and shut the door.

I needed a cold shower.

* * *

This morning, when I’d packed for this trip, I’d been convinced the no-sex rule was best, and it’s possible I didn’t trust nighttime Lexi to toe the line, because I had nothing even remotely alluring to sleep in. After my shower, I came out of the bathroom dressed in an old Sleeping Bear Dunes T-shirt and cotton pajama shorts with a frayed hem. My underwear was...not cute.

But it didn’t matter because Devlin barely looked at me. The room was dark except for the lamp near the couch, where he sat with his laptop open on the coffee table. “Done in the bathroom?” he asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Yes. It’s all yours.” I turned the covers back on the king-sized bed, watching him grab a few things from his bag out of the corner of my eye. He disappeared into the bathroom, and I slipped between the cool, crisp sheets.

The shower ran. I imagined him naked, the water splashing down those long, lean limbs. His hands gliding over his hot, wet skin. Was he still wearing his ring? I twisted mine around my finger. Beneath the covers, my body started to hum.

Dammit, why couldn’t he have just kissed me in that elevator? Why did he have to make me admit out loud that I wanted him?

I wasn’t tired at all, but when the bathroom door opened, I curled up on my side and slammed my eyes shut, feigning sleep. I could smell his body wash—bourbon and cedar. Hint of coriander.

I never knew coriander could be sexy.

He settled on the couch again, and I heard tapping, like he was typing on his laptop. I wondered what he was wearing and decided to peek.

Shirtless. Some kind of sweatpants. Wet hair. And glasses. He was wearing fucking eyeglasses, and I had no idea why that turned me on so much, but it did.

He caught me looking. “Is the lamp bothering you? I can turn it off.” Reaching behind the couch, he switched it off, and the room went dark except for his screen, which bathed his skin in bluish light.

“Thanks.” Reluctantly, I closed my eyes again. More tapping. “What are you doing?”

“Market research,” he said. “We can talk about it tomorrow on the way home.” He removed his glasses and closed the screen. “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

In the dark, I pictured him trying to stretch out on the couch, unable to extend his long legs all the way. The couch wasn’t that deep either. It was more for looks than comfort.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. This was stupid. The bed was enormous. We were married. It was obvious he wasn’t going to touch me without permission.

Which I was thinking about granting anyway.

“Devlin,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You can sleep in the bed.”

“No, thanks.”

“What?” Outraged, I bolted upright. “You’re turning me down?”

“I’m respecting the rules.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. Sleep on the couch. I don’t care.” Flopping back again, I frowned into the darkness.

“I mean, if youwantme to sleep in the bed with you...”

“Never mind!”

“Listen, I’m not the one who made the rules. I’m not the one who accused you of being a scam artist. I’m just a guy trying to prove he can be trusted, and getting into bed with you without being explicitly asked seems like looking for trouble.”