Page 72 of The Match Faker

That was the truth. More or less…

I may have left out the part where I couldn’t sleep for ages, because I was freaking out about Liam’s half-naked body being inches away from me.

As I lay there, a video recording I didn’t know I had stored in my brain played on repeat.

First it showed Liam standing topless in the spare bedroom. Then the imaginary camera zoomed in on his pecs, his abs, that flimsy towel and what lay underneath. Next, this erotic imaginary film focused on how sexy Liam had looked when I’d come into the bedroom.

His arm was casually resting behind his head, which accentuated his biceps. His hair was wavy, like he’d just run his hand through it.

Then those words he’d said played on loop. Every time I pictured him saying he thought my body was amazing, a bolt of lightning shot straight to my core.

Liam Stone. The man with a body that women craved and men envied had said my body looked good. How was I supposed to think straight or sleep after hearing that?

I’d lain next to him for hours, those visions replaying over and over, fantasising about what it would be like if he whipped the duvet off, climbed on top and buried himself inside me.

I hadn’t had sex for ages and was used to going without. But never had I wanted it more than in that moment.

There was no point denying it. I wanted Liam.

I was such a cliché, so I wasn’t going to tell Trudy that. Especially after how much I’d said I hated his guts. No way.

Admitting to wanting to jump Liam’s bones was more embarrassing than flashing him my arse last night. And that was saying something.

This was a big problem. If I was staying at home, I could keep these feelings under control. I wouldn’t have to see Liam in person until the interview. That would probably only last half an hour. An hour tops. I’d be able to hold it together for that long. Especially as he’d be fully clothed.

But now that we were living under the same roof, even if it was only for a week or two, things would be a lot harder.

Yeah, I could try to avoid him, but our paths would cross at some point. And Liam didn’t even have to be in the same room to send my hormones wild.

The whole house smelt of his addictive masculine scent. This morning when I woke up, I caught myself sniffing his pillow.

Yep. Like I said. This was bad.

And him arranging for those clothes to be sent for me did nothing to calm my desire either.

Last night, I’d worried how he’d know what would fit me without taking my measurements. I should’ve known not to doubt him. Every single item fitted me perfectly. The gorgeous red underwear set, the designer structured dresses, the high heels: it was like everything was made for me.

When I saw that he’d ordered a silk scarf for my hair too, I’d gasped. How did he know I needed that? The man was some kind of mind reader.

Liam looked hot. He smelt amazing. He was a phenomenal cook. He was kind and understanding about my phobia. He’d offered me his bed. He complimented me. And he bought me a shitload of gorgeous clothes and accessories. Come on. Show me a human being who wouldn’t develop feelings for a man like that, and I’d show them a hundred unicorns.

I was fighting a losing battle.

‘Well, you might not have done the deed last night, but it’s only a matter of time.’ Trudy grinned. ‘You two locked away alone in his house, sheltering from the paparazzi, sharing a bed. Before long, you’ll be sharing bodily fluids too!’

‘Whatever.’ I couldn’t admit that as crude as it sounded, I wished it was true.

‘It’s nature, sweetie. You can’t fight it. And why would you want to? It’s been about a year since you had any action, right? If you’re not careful, your vag will close up!’ she cackled.

‘Not funny!’ I didn’t need a reminder that it’d been a while.

‘That’s why you two getting busy would be perfect. I say this with love, but you might screw up that interview by blurting out something you shouldn’t. But if you two are shagging for real, you’ll be more relaxed because all you’ll need to do is tell the truth: that you two are crazy about each other.’

Trudy was right. About me saying something I shouldn’t. Not the other bit.

‘We’re going to rehearse what to say beforehand. So it won’t be like thinking of a lie on the spot.’

‘Really?’ She raised her eyebrow. ‘And how will you rehearse the answers when you don’t know the questions?’

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