Page 183 of Charming Deception

If I thought it sucked to not be able to fuck her, not being able to tell her why I couldn’t is much fucking worse.

She sighs and rubs her forehead. “I haven’t been totally honest either. The first night I slept here with you, I followed you to your bathroom and watched you masturbate. I loved it,” she says, sounding apologetic. “But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

My cock stirs at this new information, and I lick my lip. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you seemed so distant, sexually. You said we weren’t going to have sex. I had no idea how you’d take it. That should’ve been enough to stop me, I know. But once you started… I couldn’t look away.” She groans a little. “I wasn’t kidding that I’m a voyeur. And I don’t know if I became one because I was with such a self-obsessed narcissist for so long that I developed this almost fetishistic craving for watching because sometimes it was all I was allowed to do, or if he picked me because he knew…” She blows out a breath, and I get to my feet, going over to her and kneeling down in front of her.

She meets my eyes, and I can see the residual pain there. “He knew I’d crave him, adore him, admire him, and never be strong enough to leave.”

I grind my molars, struggling to ignore the flames of jealousy that lick my insides when she talks about him like that. “You did leave.”

She shakes her head. “I wanted you from the moment I met you.” She sounds so sad when she says that, like it’s some great tragedy.

I slide my arms around her waist. “I wanted you from the moment I met you, too.”

“How am I supposed to believe that? You barely even kissed me. You avoided touching me, all the time. Why?”

I swallow the growl of frustration in my throat. It’s not for her.

It’s for this whole fucked-up secret I have to keep.

“I can’t tell you why. All I can tell you is that I wanted to, Megan. I wanted you, so badly. That first night, when you say you watched me masturbate… you must’ve seen how badly I wanted you.”

She doesn’t say anything. She tears up, and my chest aches until I can’t draw a full breathe.

No matter how I try to convince her, I know she’s crushed that I won’t tell her everything, that I’m still holding something back—even after she just shared something so vulnerable.

“I was honest with you,” she breathes. “And you won’t reciprocate.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Except that.”

Yeah.

Except that.

* * *

I walk straight into Graysen’s office as soon as I arrive. His home office, which is the whole main living area of the owner’s suite at the Vance Bayshore resort, because all Graysen Vance does in life is work.

I stalk across the grand room, right up to his desk in front of the big windows, which are dimmed out so he can see his computer screens. He’s at his keyboard, typing.

His secretary gets up from her desk along the side wall and hurries the hell out.

I’m pretty sure it’s Graysen she’s afraid of, not me—as worked up as I am right now—and she doesn’t want to be here to witness whatever’s about to go down between brothers. My impotent rage must be crackling off the walls.

Graysen looks up, cool and incredulous. He lifts an eyebrow.

He says nothing.

“I’m going to lose her.” I slap my hands down on his desk and lean in. “You wanted me to get engaged. Well, you got what you wanted. You got your celebrity love story. The whole ‘Prince Charming and Cinderella’ romance, the engagement ring, all the leaked photos. It’s the hottest thing in the headlines right now. And I’m going to lose her because of Granddad’s stupid game and this lie he’s making me uphold.”

“It’s not like Granddad knows what’s happening in your life right now,” he says dryly.

“My inability to tell her the truth will just drive her away.”

He considers that for maybe two seconds, then says evenly, “You’ll manage it.”

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