Page 56 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

He grumbled. “Fine, but once we get to the dirt path again, I'm giving you a ride.”

“You said that earlier and I wasn't on your back,” I countered suggestively.

His shoulders loosened a little bit, but he was still tense. No kind ofridewas going to ease his mind completely until we were back at the car, or even back at Jubal's. If he wanted to carry me, and that would keep him from having a heart attack, then fine. He could carry me. But I wasn't going to have our necks broken through the steep, rocky part of the trail. He held my good hand and very attentively helped me down to the dirt trail as if I was five and I'd never been hiking before.

He easily hefted me up on his back, my legs hooked around his waist, my arms about his neck. It wasn't as comfortable a position as I remembered from being a kid. Mike's long legs ate up the trail and we were down to the bottom quickly, which was a good thing because the clouds had been coming in and it started to sprinkle. By the time we pulled out of the lot, raining.

Mike took the slick, steep roads like he was Mario Andretti on a straightaway and got me to my antihistamine in record time. He was adamant that he watch me swallow the little gel cap, and then monitor me all night, checking on my hand frequently. He had a beer—I wanted him to have a very large whiskey—and kept glancing at me all evening as we watched crappy cable on Jubal's mega-sized flat screen, Jefferson's hairy body sprawled out on his own recliner, snoring. The medicine kicked in and I left Mike there and went to bed halfway through a shoot 'em up movie from the eighties. He didn't join me, so he must have realized I wasn't going to die on him.

My body longed for Mike to be in the big bed with me, craved his touch. I'd been right all along. It was going to hurt too much when we parted. The sex had been amazing. Phenomenal. Earth-shaking. He'd most likely ruined me for other men. I wanted him. In my life, not in New York City. It was as simple as that.

The following morning, to my complete horror and thrilled libido, I woke up sprawled on top of Mike. Again. My body seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to him. My brain, however, had different ideas.

“Shh,” Mike said, as I started to move. “Be still for just a minute.”

The rain hadn't let up all night and from my warm, cozy sprawl on Mike's body, I could hear the softness of it hitting the grass, rolling down the gutters. Instead of sticking to my side of the bed in an attempt to distance myself, it was complete déjà vu from the previous morning. My head rested against his chest, and I could hear the steady beat of his heart. My palm was open and resting on his rock hard abs that jumped when I moved my hand, even a little. Our legs were entwined, one of his muscular thighs wedged between mine.

I wore my red silk pajamas again, thinking it would be a barrier between us unlike sleeping naked, which Isowanted to do. The barrier, however, was faulty because the tank top, silky and slippery as it was, had moved all the way up under my arms during the night so my breasts were once again pressed directly against his heated, hard chest. The little hairs tickled my exposed skin.

On top of all that, he smelled good. Male, as if he was giving off pheromones to lure me into sweet seduction. Ugh. He felt like heaven. He smelled like heaven. But it was hell being on top of him and knowing it was best to push away, to distance myself. To protect my heart.

Mike lifted my hand, turned it so he could look at my palm where I'd been stung. He must have been satisfied by what he saw because he exhaled a pent-up breath.

“It's fine,” I murmured. It didn't hurt at all. In fact, I'd forgotten about it, completely distracted by my position across his hard body. We settled into quiet for a minute, lulled by the peace of the moment. But I didn't want to get too comfortable because it was like a mirage, you could see it, feel it, and then it was gone.

“Mike,” I murmured. My brain was screaming, 'He's leaving!' but my body was thinking 'Take me now!' “I want it all. Or at least a shot at it.”

“Meaning more sex is out of the question unless I turn down the New York offer.”

I exhaled, defeated. Pain lanced at my heart, just like it had all those years ago. I'd known this would happen. Known all along that he'd choose medicine again over me. He might leave, but what we shared couldn't be taken from me. From either of us. “You saidturn down.So you heard last night. It's an actual offer now.”

He nodded. “They're going to get back to me about a time to go there and meet them.”

I ran my finger absently through the curly hairs on his chest. He placed his palm on top of mine, stilling my motions. “Both of us have problems with the past that are messing with us now,” I shared.

Mike was quiet for a bit, his hand running gently up and down my back, making my nipples hard. “Yeah, we do.”

“Maybe we need to work on those before we do...things.”

“We've already done...things, Vi. Hot, crazy, dirty things. Like you said, it's pretty damn hard to stop now.”

“The horse is out of the barn.”

Mike's hand stopped moving. “Huh?”

I pulled back, fixed my tank top as I watched his eyes heat at the view. “Nothing. I need to brush my teeth.”

Closing the bathroom door, I took a minute to just look at myself in the mirror.

I heard him call out. “What's with you and your obsession with brushing your teeth?”

I ignored him. I was pale with dark circles under my eyes. My hair was a mess, dark strands sticking up. What was I doing here? What was I doing with my life? I wanted Mike, more like craved him, deep down in a way I never had for anyone else. What we did together yesterday was...incredible. He'd filled practically every want, every need I ever had. Ever fantasized about. And he hadn't laughed or embarrassed me. He'd been right there with me, wanting the same things.

The feelings I had for him I never once felt with any other man. I tried, oh how I tried, to find a guy who would make me feel the way Mike had when we were teenagers. If he was out there, he was really hard to find. But I knew that there wasn't another man who would do it for me. Not anymore. Not after yesterday. There was no way I would forget— or my body would stop craving—Mike's hands on me. His mouth. His...everything.

Who would make my heart beat faster at just seeing him, being in the same room? Who could make my palms—and other places—damp by just thinking about his kisses, how his big hands roamed so gently, so possessively over my body? Who could make me scream like he did?

I was doomed to love a man who was pushing for something he'd never find in New York. He had to search inside himself to find it, and I was afraid he never would.

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