Page 128 of The Fake Dating War

“What if I don’t like cuddling?”

“Too bad.” He buries his face against my neck. “I need this.”

After a while, I speak. “Your mom’s house… we never talked more about it. You must be relieved that it’s bought.”

“There was a moment, I didn’t think I could get it,” he admits. “And I thought I’d be pissed at my father again for putting us in that situation. But I wasn’t.”

“No?”

“During your sister’s wedding week, we kept things from each other. You didn’t tell me about Harry, and I didn’t tell you about Tarun.” He pulls me tighter against him. “I had this—moment. Where I understood my father a bit. This need to not hurt the people you love, and how the thought of losing them is absolutely terrifying.”

“You forgive him?”

“I don’t know. After he collapsed, he passed away. My mom—and brothers—we didn’t get to say our goodbyes. He was in a coma so quickly that it felt…” He sighs. “Like he robbed us of time. There were so many conversations I thought we had time for, but the possibility was gone in a blink.”

“Do you think he was trying to protect you?”

“Maybe. But it screwed me up.”

“Your need to always be prepared and calculate the worst odds,” I realize, understanding it more than I ever have now. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. Sorry you lost him and your faith in him at the same time. That’s so shitty.”

“Thank you for saying that.” He kisses the side of my head. “Now, can we talk about that poster on your wall?”

Ah yes, my trifecta of goals. Debt. New place. Dick.

The cornerstone of development for any well-rounded woman.

“Speaking to that last point, I’ll be the only man you’ll be getting that from. I’m not willing to share.”

My stomach flutters at his blatant possessiveness.Yeah, I like that.

“Hmm. Guess I should send a notice out to all my Finder matches.”

Even in the dark, I see his nostrils flare. “Where did that one guy take you?”

He’s talking about… Weebly? Windigo? Weston? I barely remember his name. He’s a mote in my distance, but… this could be fun.

“Picnic by the water,” I say wistfully.

There is silence, but it’s not real. If Jake’s brain made noise, it would crack eardrums. The gears spin. A low growl slips out of him. “I’ll out-picnic the fuck out of him. Not with one date, but thousands of them. I’m going to spend the rest of my life planning dates for you.”

“Only if I can do the same for you.”

His thumb slides along the delicate arch of my throat. An immediate throb down below starts and now I’m taking back my words. This bed can’t fit us. Not for the activities I’m suddenly imagining.

“Here and there you can,” smirks Jake. “For every fifty dates I do the work of putting together, you can plan one.”

“That seems unfair. For you.”

“I disagree.”

I lean into his palm so the pressure increases (More, Sir). “How about blowjobs? I could show my appreciation that way?”

He lifts my jaw to give himself better access. My bottom lip is nipped at. “You could do that.” The corner of my mouth is kissed. “But I know your game. I’m onto you.”

“What is my game?” My tongue peeks out.

“You love reducing me to an animal. And it starts when you do that?—”

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