Page 67 of Bitter Rival

I roll my eyes. “I appreciate good food and the wine really was quite lovely. But I prefer our vineyard and winery to theirs. It’s cozier and has more charm.”

“Our vineyard and winery?”

“I forgot to mention our house,” I throw out. “I prefer that too.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warns. “This will all be over soon and then we can go back to our regularly scheduled lives.”

He sounds happy about that and eager to get back to his life.

I can only imagine how he lives. I’m picturing an interior-designed apartment. Shiny and expensive and soulless. Not a single crumb on the countertops or smudge on the appliances. Meticulous just like the interior of his car. Just like him.

And really, I should want nothing more than to sell this place and go our separate ways as quickly as possible.

But for some stupid reason, I’m not as excited about the prospect as I thought I would be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Beckett

Don’t ask me why I pretended to be Daisy’s boyfriend.

It just seemed like the most natural thing to do at the time. And it was surprisingly easy to the point where I almost started believing we were a real couple. But we were just playing a game of pretend that had absolutely no bearing on reality.

The kiss, however, was very real.

A lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness. A big mistake. Best forgotten.

I’ve always preferred the Beast.

She would have to say that, wouldn’t she?

Not that memorable, my ass. I could still taste her on my tongue hours later. She left crescent-shaped grooves in my skin as a reminder that she was there. Sank her teeth and claws into me.

And I wanted more. I wanted all of her. Every single inch of silky skin. Every ounce of pain and pleasure. Every moan and whimper.

Now that I’ve had a small taste, I want to do so much more than kiss her.

I want to feel her tight pussy clenching around my cock as I drive into her.

I want to devour her.

But despite how much I want her—and I do—taking what I want could never lead to anything good.

Sex would only complicate an already complicated situation.

We still have to live together. Work together. Be all up in each other’s space. All of which defies the concept of a no-strings-attached casual hookup. My one and only specialty.

So keeping my distance is the best line of defense. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing for the past week.

If she’s noticed, she hasn’t let on. She hasn’t invaded my space or asked for a repeat performance.

If anything, I’d say she’s avoiding me. Which is just as well. That’s the way it has to stay for the next two months until we’re free and clear to move on and forget that we were ever forced to live under the same roof.

I’m halfway through my run when rain starts pelting down, and by the time I get back to the house, I’m soaked to the skin.

I leave my muddy sneakers by the door and cross the limestone tiles, skirting around a scaffolding tower in the middle of the foyer. A bucket of fresh plaster has been abandoned in the hallway and there’s no sign of Caiden other than his truck parked out front.

From the kitchen, I hear his voice followed by Daisy’s laughter. “That’s hilarious.”

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