Page 94 of Hard to Fake

More.

I grind a little against him, my lips a breath from his.

His large hands are on my waist and making their way north.

Slowly. So fucking slowly. His half-lidded gaze is intent, barely containing a need that matches mine.

When his lips brush mine, they’re soft and coaxing, as if this hot tub has cast a spell on both of us.

His hands span my back, trapping my breasts against his hard chest. His cock rubs against my stomach through the thin fabric of his shorts, and he groans into my mouth.

My hand goes to his hair. I want him to touch me. To devour me.

To do whatever he fucking wants, because Miles’s way has turned out far more enjoyable than the path I’ve been chasing this entire time.

I trace the cords of his neck with a fingertip. We’re kissing as though we’re the only two people in the world.

As though there’s nothing else but us.

“Get a room,” Caroline spits.

I’m breathing hard when Miles pulls back. His eyes are on mine. He’s breathing just as hard.

“Caroline,” he drawls in a deceptively pleasant voice, but he’s looking at me when he says, “That’s the best idea you’ve had all weekend.”

He shifts his body, moving my hips away from him only long enough that he can stand.

Then he reaches for my hand and helps me out of the water, and I follow him without looking back.

24

BROOKE

The night air is cool on my exposed skin. I try not to catch my flip-flops on the walk back to our room, but it’s hard to focus on anything but the way his hand feels threaded through mine, the tension that grows between us with every step.

“You have the key?” I ask when we pull up at the door.

Miles slips a hand in the pocket of my robe and holds up the card that glints in the light.

“Right.”

He reaches past me to unlock the door. I step in first, aware of every inch of his body as I brush past him and into the room. The door clicks shut behind us.

We're alone.

There’s a lamp on in the far window, probably from whoever did turndown service. Without the overhead light, it casts shadows across us and the room.

We look at each other. Miles licks his lips. I lick mine.

“Shit,” he says softly, staring at me.

“You’re going to tell me this is a bad idea.” I stare into his eyes. “That you owe my brother or that you came to watch my back.”

“Those are good reasons.”

“And?”

I’m breathless before he puts his hands on my waist and pulls me to him. “And tonight, they’re not good enough.”

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