Page 49 of The Fake Dating War

“You aren’t the only woman in here.”

I’m confused for a second until I notice the busty mannequin behind him. “Omigod.I always knew you were a freak! Let me guess. You like when they don’t have a lot of opinions.”

He’s still not looking, but the side of his mouth twitches. “I prefer the opposite. Gives me an opportunity to teach them how to put their mouth to better use.”

Eeek.My mouthachesin response. As does the space between my legs. “Like playing teacher, do you? Considering women you date are too young to know better, that also makes sense.”

He scowls. Bingo, we have direct eye-contact. “If you actually stalked me like I keep thinking you do, you would know I’m attracted togrownwomen. Responsible adults.”

Well, that takes me out of the running.

In my true current state, Coleman would never want me. If he only knew the extent of how little I have my life together, he wouldn’t be having dick issues. It wouldn’t get hard in the first place.

That thought kills my mood.

“Go on then,” I say, waving a hand down my body. “Look.”

He blinks slowly. Then slowly his eyes go away from the wall and move to me. Goosebumps immediately pebble my skin. I have to tamp down a shiver. The way his gaze is slowly roving–

There’s such an intensity to it that I swear the force of his stare is a caress. I gulp when he tips his head down and stares at my breasts. When I heave and it lifts them up, something darkens in his eyes.

Glancing down, I swear the bulge is even bigger. Even his large hand can’t contain it.

And never mind, my mood is a boomerang. Warmth stirs in my lower belly, languishing lower and lower. I’m no longer casual about this.

As for Coleman, he drives a hand through his hair when the garters catch his attention. My legs shift under his inspection, and his chiseled jaw tightens. More heat creeps along the line of my back when he goes back and starts again, looking at me from top-to-bottom, slowly, as if he can’t help himself. As if he’s not even close to having seen enough.

I bite my lip. “You look a bit sweaty. Like you actually have stomach issues.”

Coleman glares at me.

“Hurry up and collect your data,” I demand.

The tone of my voice makes his deep green eyes flash dangerously. “Why do you wear sweaters?” Except he doesn’t ask this with polite curiosity, but with biting frustration.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not supposed to know you look like this,” he says in a tone that makes it even clearer that he’s pissed. He flicks a finger at my bulky sweater. It’s hanging on a hook beside him. “I won’t be able to look at these properly again. I’ll always wonder what they’re hiding.”

“No, you won’t. This is a temporary memory,” I say, my voice pitching higher. “Burn whatever folder you must store it in for now, after this week is over.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Yes, forgetting everything about youiseasy for me.”

“Such a little liar you are,” he seethes.

“Not this topic again.” I groan, trying to keep my voice down. It doesn’t sound like anyone is outside the fitting room, and the shop’s overhead music should drown out our voices, but we’re still being too loud. “Listen. We’ve been in here long enough. And we’ve acted like a proper couple, don’t you think? You’ve done your duty and reacted as a boyfriend would if he saw his partner dressed like this.”Leave now.

He crosses his arms. “I wouldn’t?—”

“Wouldn’twhat?”

His jaw hardens. “Never mind.”

“Don’t be shy. Spit it out.”

“I wouldn’t not touch you.”

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