Page 23 of The Temptation (Executive Suite Secrets #4)

PIERCE SUTTON

Morning seemed to arrive more quickly than normal. I stretched, and one of my legs fell off the bed. My eyes flew open as my toes touched the floor, and I looked around. I wasn’t in my bed, but on the sofa in the corner of my bedroom.

Simon.

Last night returned to my sleep-fogged brain in a flash.

After Simon had fallen asleep on me, I’d carried him to the bed and tucked him in and slept on the couch.

I could have moved to one of the other five bedrooms in my home, but I’d wanted to be close in case Simon awoke in the middle of the night in a panic.

After tossing the blanket aside, I turned and put my other foot on the floor. I scrubbed my hands across my face, trying to banish the rest of the fog from my mind. How had I not known that he was overwhelmed and burned out from everything happening in his life?

Mostly because the man always had the biggest smile on his face when he saw me. He displayed no signs of fatigue or emotional distress. Why the hell would he hide something like this from me?

That was easy. He was still trying to convince me that we should date. There was no doubt in my mind that he thought if he showed any hint of being difficult or complicated, I would use that as an excuse not to see him.

A low groan rumbled through the brain. Idiot . Something like that would never bother me. Hiding shit from me was the deal-breaker. Lying to me about his mental and physical health was a bad fucking thing. Feeling overwhelmed was not.

I shoved to my feet and crossed to the bathroom, where I pissed, washed my face, and brushed my teeth.

A shower could wait for now. When I returned to the bedroom, Simon was sitting up in the middle of the bed, his hair standing up in every direction as he blinked wide, slightly confused eyes.

I snatched the remote off a nearby table and turned off the rain “music” that had been running on a loop all night.

It was something I used to help me fall asleep.

“How’d I get over here?” he asked, pushing a hand into his hair and scratching his scalp.

“I put you in bed last night after you fell asleep. I thought you’d be more comfortable there. It allowed you to stretch out more.”

Simon’s shoulders slumped, and he made a show of giving me a very pouty expression. “But I was comfortable on you. I like the sound of your heart under my ear and the feel of your arms around me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, willing the sudden rush of butterflies back into their cocoons. Simon’s cuteness would not sway me even if I had enjoyed holding him in my arms last night. I would not think about how perfectly he’d fit against me or how empty I’d felt after moving him to the bed.

He twisted for a second to look at the bed before directing those all-too-discerning eyes at me. “You didn’t sleep in the bed with me?”

“No, I was on the couch.”

Simon dropped his head and groaned. “Why? There was plenty of room for both of us. It’s not like I would have pounced on you in your sleep.”

I snorted, a hint of a smirk teasing up one corner of my mouth. “Yeah, I don’t believe that at all.”

“What?” Simon tried to sound innocent, but he couldn’t hold in the wicked grin spreading across his lips or the evil twinkle in his eyes.

“You think I would roll over and snuggle close while you were sleeping, slip a hand under your shirt, and run my fingers up your bare chest? Or maybe I’d push my fingers under the waistband of your sleep pants and?—”

“Enough!” I barked, far louder than I’d meant to. My fucking morning wood had only just subsided, and his words were stirring it back to life.

“But I’m your boyfriend. Isn’t that how I should wake you every morning I stay here?”

It sounded like an amazing way to wake up every damn morning, but it wasn’t going to happen. “You’re my fake boyfriend. The show is for my parents.”

“You wanna do that in front of your parents?”

I closed my eyes and summoned what strength I could muster at eight in the morning on a Sunday before coffee. It wasn’t much. “Simon,” I exhaled, pushing his name out between my clenched teeth.

“Pierce,” he answered, using the same irritated tone. “You might be my fake boyfriend, but I still want to suck your cock.”

My eyes flew open to see his eyes narrow on me and his expression a mix of fierce and annoyed.

“I want you to suck my cock,” he continued.

Simon leaned forward, resting on his hand while rising on his knees as if he meant to crawl across the bed toward me.

His hard dick was pressing against his pajama pants, seemingly begging to come out.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I see stars and forget my own goddamn name.”

And of course I got hard. My willpower had its limits.

Simon was sexy and beautiful. He felt amazing in my arms, and his kisses were sweet enough to give me cavities.

Part of me craved everything he was offering and so much more, but we couldn’t.

Ever. Sawyer had made it obvious years ago; I wasn’t good enough for his brother.

It took me an extra second or two, but I pressed on in an even tone. “I think we need to talk about what happened last night.”

“You mean how you took care of me so perfectly? You gave me cheese and soft pajamas and held me until I fell asleep. No one has ever done that. I’ve never felt so safe and cared for. I think you should let me reward you.”

“No. What’s going on? How often are you crashing like that?”

Simon’s expression shifted from sexy to annoyed with a blink of his eyes. “I was exhausted last night. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

“It’s a big deal to me if you’re making yourself sick. If you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m not!”

“Clearly, you are if you practically collapsed in my arms outside Music Hall.” I shoved a hand through my messy hair and stomped closer, trying to get control of my frantic emotions so I could speak calmly and rationally with Simon.

“If this bullshit with my parents is taking up too much of your time or distracting you from your work, we can stop. You don’t need to do any more dates or cater to their nonsense. ”

“No! It’s fine. It’s not too much.”

I sighed. “Simon, please. Be reasonable. I feel like we’ve reached a comfortable place that works for both of us in this friendship.

If you’re afraid I’ll go back to giving you the cold shoulder, you can stop.

It was wrong of me. None of that was your fault.

We don’t need this charade we’re putting on for my parents to be friends.

I think we can have the kind of friendship that you have with Sebastian, Declan, and Rome. ”

Simon dropped to sit on his heels, his face shifting into a frosty glare. “I’ll give you that it’s a step in the right direction, but I’m not interested in being ‘just friends’ with you. Not when we shared a kiss that almost ripped my soul from my body.”

“We’re not talking about that kiss,” I growled.

That slip in my judgment was going to be the death of me.

I still dreamed about that kiss, replayed how he’d felt in my arms, the little sounds that had escaped him as my tongue had plunged into his mouth.

I’d loved everything about that kiss and craved it until I couldn’t think straight. But it was not happening again.

“Yes, yes. It’s safer to live in the land of denial.” Sarcasm dripped from Simon’s every word, and he waved a hand through the air as if he could use a spell to wipe away all the longing and desire I’d been battling since he’d first moved to Cincinnati.

Those first sparks of desire might have burned me as I’d glimpsed him at his graduation, but I’d tamped those feelings down.

At least, I’d thought I had. But now that I was seeing him more frequently, I couldn’t escape the pure need that swamped me every time I saw him.

It was his smile, his voice, the smell of his skin, the way he laughed.

Fuck, the touch of his lips scrambled my brain.

Being near him was a constant battle to hold all these desires inside and keep him at arm’s length. I couldn’t give in to temptation. I’d made a promise, and I meant to keep it.

“Listen, I think we can be great friends. It doesn’t need to be more.

” Without thinking, I crossed the bedroom and sat on the edge of the mattress with one knee up as I faced him.

“Besides, if you’re honest with yourself, I’m sure you’ve already started to realize that I’m not a good match for you.

There are eight years between us and a lot of differences in our personalities.

I’m a boring lawyer. You’re a world-class violinist who captivates audiences wherever you go.

This is infatuation at best. I’ve done the no-strings-attached hookups, and I’m not interested in more of that.

We need to move forward and focus on steps to take so you can be healthier.

You can’t continue collapsing after a performance and scraping yourself back together. ”

Simon huffed at me. “No, the first thing we need is for you to get over yourself.”

“What?” I snapped, but didn’t get any further. He lunged at me, grabbed my shoulder, and tackled me onto the mattress. As I was still trying to gather my wits, the sneaky bastard climbed on top of me, straddling my waist while pressing his hands on my shoulders, pinning me in place.

“As I was saying, I’m not a moron, and you need to stop treating me like one.

I know what infatuation is. I know what lust is.

This is not it, and if you would give us half a shot, I can prove that we have more going on than sexual desire.

The problem is that you’re scared to admit it.

We had fun together getting pizza and cocktails.

And we had fun together at Findlay Market.

Fuck! When you let yourself relax, I think you even had fun dining with your parents. ”

“All that is just for show for my parents. We’re fake dating.”