Page 153 of Charming Deception

He snickers. “Tell that to Cole.”

I laugh.

Neither of us says anything more until we reach the end of the block. I can see our hotel up ahead, and I already regret that our walk is coming to an end. As we cross the street, still holding hands, I tell him, “I just realized why I may be having such a hard time envisioning a happy ending for my book series.”

“Yeah?”

I take a breath. “I’ve never seen a happy ending play out in real life.”

He considers that for a moment, then admits, “Neither have I.”

Chapter 33

Jameson

When we arrive back at our hotel suite, I release Megan’s hand.

She wanders around the room, checking out the view from the windows. Seeing her struggle with what to do with herself, alone with me in this hotel room, is about as depressing as watching her struggle with how to touch me in the restaurant.

I’ve become accustomed to avoiding her touch while restraining myself from touching her at the same time. It happened very quickly, adjusting to this delicate dance. I hate that I’ve put up this barrier to force distance between us. But obviously, I had to.

Getting closer to her in any way just makes this whole situation harder.

I feel raw enough about the things I told her as we walked hand in hand through the streets of Paris. Because they were painfully true.

And I keep thinking about what she said in the limo today. I long for a happy ending in a world where there shouldn’t be one.

Like I told her, I’ve never witnessed a happy ending in real life. Those are things in movies and books and fairy tales. My grandparents’ marriage, my parents’ marriage, Graysen’s engagement, and now even my own; they’re all lies.

But I don’t want to live a lie.

I spent my teenage years grieving my father’s untimely death, only to find out that he’d betrayed us. It wasn’t just Mom he betrayed with his affairs. It was our whole sense of family. He’d lied to us about who we were to each other, and it broke my heart.

That was when I got the dagger tattoo over my heart: when I swore to myself that I would never lie to those I love like that.

I do love. I love my family, fiercely.

And of course, I want to be loved.

Maybe much more than I’ve always feared falling in love, I want it. Badly.

I want to be the kind of man who leads with his heart, like Savannah advised me to. But how can I connect with Megan in the ways that matter, when what matters to me most is honesty, and I can’t be fully honest with her, because of the stupid challenge?

This fucking challenge that’s taking over my life.

“Did you enjoy yourself at dinner?” I loosen my tie, struggling for something safe to talk about as the nightly tension that always surrounds getting ready for bed presses in.

“I did.” She looks at me from where she stands by the open doors to the balcony, the long curtains billowing in. The sparkly dress shimmers over her curves, the skirt showing the exact right amount of her legs to appear seductive, to make a man hunger for what he can’t see.

My chest feels tight, my cock so swollen… I’m half-hard already, just looking at her across the room. I turn away. “I barely got a word with you. You were so popular with the men at the table.”

She doesn’t say anything as I pour us each a glass of the Cristal I had delivered for us just before we got here. I hand her a crystal coupe of champagne.

“Thank you.” She touches her glass lightly to mine, and we both take a sip.

As we stand here in silence, my senses flood with the awareness of her. I always feel her when she’s near, my attraction to her overwhelming me. And all the way here, holding hands in the streets, her soft, warm touch sent rivulets of lust streaming up my veins, heady and intoxicating. I can still feel it.

I crave touching her like that, skin to skin.

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