Page 28

CHAPTER 27

Alana

I was a wreck at dinner.

Hunter was charismatic.

Dangerous. Lethal with that smile.

And don’t get me started on the canines.

Every time they caught the candlelight, I lost another sliver of sanity.

He kept touching me.

Not in any overt way.

Just… enough. A palm on my hand above the table.

His fingers brushing hair behind my ear.

And I? I was rubbing my thighs together like a cricket, desperate for any kind of friction.

Trying to ease the ache building between my legs while smiling politely at a sculptor who absolutely noticed everything.

I am unravelling. Completely.

Thank the gods she has a no work talk at the dinner table rule, because me?

I don’t think I said a single intelligible thing.

Hunter carried the entire conversation.

And not just carried, he thrived.

I sat there nodding like a fucking idiot, while my insides tried to climb out of my body.

I think his pheromones are causing my brain to disintegrate.

To self-destruct.

Eventually, we were shown to our room.

One bed. Of course .

Minimalistic. No chairs, no side tables, just a bed that looked like it had been handwoven by monks in the Himalayas.

And a very fluffy carpet.

I didn’t even comment on it.

Just grabbed my toiletry bag and mumbled something that vaguely resembled ‘shower’ before disappearing into the ensuite.

And that’s where I am now.

Sitting on the floor, knees up, rummaging through my Louis Vuitton toiletry bag like a woman on a mission.

I knew I’d need backup tonight.

I could feel it in my bones.

I find Trevor’s little brother (my trusty travel companion) and hold him up like Simba on Pride Rock.

Victory.

Except...

He doesn’t turn on.

Battery: dead.

Of course . The universe saw me climbing the edge of sanity and gave me a push.

“For fuck’s sake!” I shout.

Loudly.

“You need my assistance?” Hunter calls through the door, voice smug enough to slap.

Yes. God, yes.

“No!” I squeak.

“Just a second.”

I whimper and drop the dead vibrator back into my toiletry bag like a broken dream.

Take a shower. Cold.

Pull on my satin sleep set.

Exit the bathroom like a woman clinging to her last shred of sanity.

Hunter uses the bathroom next.

I hear the shower turn on.

Then I lie down on the carpet, because the bed?

Not happening. Not right now.

I tug a throw blanket over myself and pretend this is fine.

The carpet’s surprisingly comfortable…

I hear the bathroom door open.

I smell pine and sin.

It smells like home.

And that’s a whole new kind of problem.

“Alana, you can’t sleep on the floor.” He almost sounds like he gives a shit.

“There’s only one bed, Hunter,” I snap sitting up, annoyed, irrational and still so fucking horny I could scream.

“Sleeping on the floor is better than sharing a bed with you.”

“I agree,” he deadpans.

“But there’s no other option. We need to keep playing this role until morning. You stay on your side of the bed. I’ll stay on mine.”

“Fine,” I huff and crawl into the bed like it’s a trap.

I turn my back to him and stare at the wall.

Overbearing bastard.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to count sheep.

The bed is too soft.

Too big. Too quiet. And I’m far too aware of the six-foot-something heat source beside me.

We’re back-to-back with a chasm of air between us, like some kind of sleepover standoff.

The frustration curls in my spine.

At some point, I shift and roll onto my back.

My arm brushes his. And my body shivers.

“You cold?” he asks, voice low and quiet.

I shiver again. Shit.

What do I say? No, Hunter, I’m not cold.

I’m just so turned on I’m vibrating like a tuning fork.

Instead I simply say, “Yes.”

He doesn’t wait.

Just reaches over and pulls me into his chest. His bare chest. I freeze.

“What are you doing?” I ask, breath catching in my throat.

“Relax, Little Diamond. I’m just keeping you warm.” His voice drops to something deeper.

Rougher. “Can we just pretend for a little longer? You can go back to hating me in the morning.”

I don’t hate you.

But I don’t say that.

Instead, I let myself lean back into him, my spine grazing solid muscle.

I stay careful, not too close.

Not all the way. Because if more of him touches more of me, I might come completely undone.

His hand rests lightly at my stomach, right at the curve of my navel.

Not doing anything. Just there.

“Hunter?” I whisper.

Just to make sure he hasn’t had some kind of psychotic break.

He presses his mouth to my shoulder.

A slow kiss. Soft. Dangerous.

“Shh, Little Diamond,” he breathes against my skin.

“We’re just pretending.”

“We’re just pretending,” I echo.