Page 20 of Single Dad’s Fake Bride (Billionaire Baby Daddies #7)

SADIE

T wo days had passed since the kiss, and I had managed to avoid Harrison entirely. Not an easy task when your soon-to-be fake husband runs the school where you work, but I had become an expert at timing my movements around his schedule.

But avoidance only worked for so long.

My stomach growled as I dismissed my students for lunch, and I realized I had forgotten to pack anything again.

The cafeteria would have to do, which meant walking straight past Harrison's office.

I gathered my papers with shaking hands, telling myself I was being ridiculous.

We were adults. We could handle being in the same building without combusting.

Besides, after that night at his house, the kiss was nothing, right? Except that night was spurred on by a bit of wine and a close, intimate setting. And the kiss in his office was my doing—I instigated it. The thought made heat creep into my cheeks, but lunch couldn't be avoided.

I locked my classroom door and headed across campus. The administrative wing felt different during lunch—quieter, somehow more intimate. Most of the staff had cleared out, leaving only the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of students in the dining hall.

I intended to walk straight past his office. I really did. But the door stood slightly ajar, and I could see him through the gap, hunched over his desk with his head in his hands. The sight stopped me cold.

He looked exhausted. Defeated, even. His usually perfect hair was disheveled, as if he had been running his fingers through it, and his shoulders carried a tension I had never seen before. This was not the composed, controlled Harrison Vale I had met two weeks ago.

Before I could think better of it, I knocked softly on the doorframe.

He looked up, startled, and for a moment his face went completely blank. Then he straightened, trying to pull that familiar mask back into place.

"Sadie." His voice came out rougher than usual. "I didn't expect to see you."

"I was heading to lunch." I stepped into his office, closing the door behind me without really thinking about why. "Are you alright?"

He stared at me for a long moment, as if weighing whether to answer honestly. Finally, his shoulders sagged slightly. "The board called this morning."

I moved closer to his desk, noting the scattered papers, the empty coffee mug, the way his normally pristine workspace looked like a hurricane had torn through it. "What did they want?"

"Proof." He rubbed his temples. "They want a copy of our marriage license within five days. Official documentation that this is real."

My heart stuttered. "But we don't have?—"

"No, we don't." He looked up at me, and I saw something raw in his pale gray eyes. The license was something we had to tick off a never-ending list of things to get done. Meanwhile, I was busy with AA meetings and therapy and doctors’ appointments for Mom.

In theory, the arrangement Harrison requested from me sounded perfect, but in practice, it was a lot of work.

I sank into the chair across from his desk, the reality of our situation hitting me fresh. I'd been so focused on the flutter of my heart every time I got around this man that I forgot about how important it was to him.

"Mr. Blackwood can prepare the application," Harrison continued, his voice gaining strength. "We can go to the courthouse tomorrow or the next day, get the license, have a quick ceremony. It won't take long."

"A ceremony?" The words felt foreign on my tongue. And tomorrow? That made my head spin. I realized he was on a time crunch, but even for the lightning-bolt arrangement we had, this seemed fast. I didn't speak it, but I sure as heck felt it knot up in my chest.

"Nothing elaborate. Just us and a justice of the peace. Maybe the lawyer as a witness." He was back in planning mode now, the vulnerability I had glimpsed carefully locked away. "We'll need to discuss living arrangements too. You'll have to move in with me."

My pulse quickened. "Move in with you?" Of course I would, but try to tell my gut that.

"It has to look real, Sadie. The board is already suspicious. If we're married but living separately…" He trailed off, but I understood. It would raise questions we couldn't afford to answer.

I stood up abruptly, needing to move, to think. His office suddenly felt too small. "But you have a guest room?"

"Yes." The word came out too quickly. He practically spat it out like he didn't want me in his bed, or maybe it was just nerves on his part. I was so flustered I didn’t take time to think. "If you prefer, I can set up the guest room for you."

But his tone suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with that arrangement either. I glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but he was studying his hands.

"The license will take a few days to process," I mumbled, realizing how fast this was actually moving.

The idea of shacking up with him so quickly felt ridiculous, but it was what I had agreed to. I stood abruptly, needing distance from his desk, from the intensity building between us. "Let me make you coffee," I said, moving toward the small kitchenette before he could respond.

My hands shook as I measured grounds and filled the water reservoir.

Moving in. Living with him . The words kept repeating in my head.

I would pack my few belongings, leave the apartment I had called home for three years, and go live with a man I barely knew.

A man who was now my future husband but felt more like a stranger than ever.

"You seem hesitant," Harrison said from behind me.

I kept my back to him, watching the coffee begin to brew. "It's a big step."

"We can make it work, Sadie. The guest room would give you privacy."

Something in his tone suggested he wasn't thrilled with the idea of keeping me at arm's length. I glanced over my shoulder to find him studying me carefully, as if trying to read my thoughts.

"Would it?" I asked, surprising myself with the question.

His eyes darkened. "Would it what?"

"Give me privacy." The coffee maker gurgled, filling the space between us. "Because it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself as much as me."

He stood from his desk, moving closer. "You're right. This is all happening very fast."

I focused on finding mugs in the cabinet, grateful for the distraction. "But we don't have a choice, do we?"

"No." His voice was gentler now. "We don't."

The coffee finished brewing, and I poured it into two mugs, adding cream to mine and leaving his black the way I had noticed he preferred it.

When I turned to face him, I found he had moved much closer than before.

Close enough that I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne.

"Here," I said softly, holding out his mug.

His fingers brushed mine as he took the coffee, and I felt a spark of electricity shoot through me. Neither of us moved away.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For the coffee. For agreeing to this. For all of it."

The gratitude in his voice made my chest tight. I started to pull my hand back, but he caught my wrist gently, his thumb finding my pulse point.

"Harrison," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if it was a warning or a plea.

"We should discuss boundaries," he said, but his voice had dropped lower, rougher.

"Yes." I didn't step away. My throat was a solid lump of emotion. "Boundaries are important."

"Very important." His free hand came up to cup my cheek, and despite every rational thought in my head, I leaned into the touch.

The air between us grew thick and charged. I could feel my pulse racing under his touch, could see the way his eyes had darkened as he looked down at me.

"We need to be clear about expectations," I managed.

"Crystal clear." He stepped closer, eliminating the last bit of space between us.

Every sensible part of me screamed that this was a mistake, that we were crossing a line we couldn't uncross.

I knew what had happened before was in the heat of the moment, under the influence of alcohol, but this wasn't that.

I was sober. I wasn't emotional. It felt jarring, but my God, did I want it.

I rose up on my toes and kissed him.

This wasn't tentative the way our first kiss in this office had been.

This was hungry, desperate, full of all the desire I had been trying to ignore.

He groaned against my mouth, his arms coming around me, pulling me closer until I could feel the rapid beat of his heart against my chest, hear the clink of him setting his coffee mug down.

My hands fisted in his shirt as he deepened the kiss, backing me against the counter. Coffee mugs clattered forgotten on the surface behind me. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling it free from its careful bun until dark waves spilled over my shoulders.

"God, Sadie," he breathed against my neck, and I shivered at the raw need in his voice.

I should've reminded us both that this was supposed to be a professional agreement, but when he looked at me with those storm-gray eyes, when he touched me with hands that trembled slightly, I was completely lost.

He reached past me to lock the office door, then moved to close the blinds. The room dimmed to intimate shadows, and when he turned back to me, the careful control he always wore had cracked entirely.

He lifted me onto his desk, papers scattering to the floor.

I hooked my heels behind his hips, drawing him in as he stepped between my legs. His hands gripped my thighs, sliding up until his thumbs skimmed beneath the hem of my skirt. My breath caught. He paused there, just enough pressure to make me ache.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said roughly, mouth brushing mine.

“I had to think.”

“And now?”

I reached for his belt, fingers slipping the leather free. “Now I don’t want to think at all.”