Page 11 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

I press up against the counter until it pokes into my back. I want this. I want it to happen. My belly is cramping, my chest is about to explode from me holding my breath, and my lady bits are clenching in on themselves because, yeah, four years of celibacy, and alright, at least a year before that, dothingsto a person.

Apparently, all it takes is a look now to get my mojomojoing.

Maybe it’s just been so long, or maybe it’s because Sterling is so drop-dead gorgeous, or maybe it’s that our body chemicalswork well together, but I don’t feel the least bit threatened or regretful about what is going to happen. He’s going to enter my personal space. He’s going to touch me gently on the shoulder, on the waist. I’m going to lean into him and tilt my face up, and he’s going to kiss me. I’m going to kiss him back, and it’s going to kick off the best sex marathon of my life. Even if it’s over in five minutes, it would still be the best sex I’ve ever had. It would be me riding his face. His tongue would be inside me, and then his fingers, and then his—

“I—I’m super tired, actually. I should probably go to bed.” The words wheeze out of me like I’ve just used my tongue to clean up all the dust bunnies under the couch, and believe me, that old beast collects a ton of debris.

He blinks. I blink back. He steps back, and I lean further into the counter. I expect him to get mad at me for leading him on, to ask me what’s wrong with me, and to tell me that I’m a tad pathetic and strange and then storm out of here.

Instead, he nods. “You’re right. It’s late. I’ll call for a cab and get it to take me back to the club for my car.”

“Yeah.” Yeah, he could do that. But deep down, it’s yeah, as in, please don’t. Yeah, as in, change my mind. Yeah, as in, there’s this stupid contract I absolutely can’t break hanging over my head. “Or you could just uh…sleep on the couch. I could make it up for you.”

We both glance over at it. It’s not really a couch. It’s more of a loveseat. A big old plaid one that I scored because the person who lived here before me left it when they moved out. It’s not comfortable, but I didn’t want to pay someone to come and take it away, and I didn’t have the heart to throw it out because, structurally, it’s still quite sound.

“Sure.”

I think we’re both shocked. Suddenly, he looks tired. He rubs the back of his neck like he caught a red-eye flight fromsomewhere this morning and has been worried and on his feet ever since. Maybe it’s the white button-down shirt and jacket he’s wearing that puts the image in my head. Suits always scream office, which screams businessman. I realize I don’t know a darn thing about this guy. Yet I was going to…to what? Right now, I don’t remember what I was going to do, but I was going there in my mind. I don’t know where he comes from, what he does, or what his last name even is.

“Okay. I’ll just go get blankets and pillows. Hold on.”

It does my burning face and wild, shaken, and stirred-up insides good to race up the stairs and raid my linen closet, which is basically just the tiniest cupboard in the hallway. It’s full of crap that doesn’t fit anywhere else. I don’t have a spare bedroom, and no one ever sleeps over, so I have to grab two pillows off my bed, but it’s a queen-sized bed, and there are four pillows, so it works out well. I do have an extra quilt and a set of sheets.

Downstairs, I don’t look at Sterling. I can’t believe I asked him to stay. I don’t know why I can’t just let him go when I know I can’t move forward with him. It’s crazy. I should never have even talked to him beyond apologizing for spilling my drink on him at the bar. I don’t know what it is about him. Something just makes me feel drawn to him.

I need to spend some time thinking about what I can tell him. Technically, I can’t say a thing. What with the gag order and all that. Can I somehow find a way to tell him that, right now, I’m not free to make my own decisions, but in a year, things will be different? Can I give him my number and tell him if he’s still single and wants to do this at this time next year, then I’m down for it?

He’ll think I’m crazy. He probably already does.

I finish spreading out the quilt and then take a step back, my face on fire. My brain feels sludgy, and my body feels heavy withregret. “If you need anything, just let me know. Coffee’s always on in the morning. I get up early, even when I go to bed late. And I hope you don’t mind sharing with Beans. The couch is kind of his thing. I bought him a dog bed, but he refuses to use it.”

Beans is standing right next to the couch. He gives me one of those raised doggy eyebrows and looks at me like he can’t believe I’m serious.

I can’t believe I’m serious either.

I can’t believe any of this even happened.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” Sterling says.

“No, thankyou. Thank you for making sure I got home okay. And for not murdering me as soon as we got here.”

“There’s still time.” But he laughs, kind of nervous and warm at the same time.

I know it’s crazy because anyone would tell me how unsafe I’m being, but I just don’tfeellike there’s anything to worry about. “Please don’t,” I joke back.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” His eyes track toward the door, but there’s the same strange reluctance burning in them that I feel. Not because he wants to pressure me into anything. It’s just…I don’t really know what it is. It’s not something I’ve ever felt or can put into words.

If it’s just pheromones, I’d be seriously surprised.

“Are you sure you don’t mind smelling dog farts all night?” He probably has a five-star hotel booked. As it is, he has a rental car back at the club. He can go anywhere. I don’t know why I get the vibe that he’s not from here, but I do. Something about the image of the red-eye flight I just had. Maybe I’m wrong and he actually lives here. It could be that he just likes to dress up to go out. “Because I’m alright. I got home safe. I’m all good now.”Please stay. Please let me tell you whatever I figure out I’m going to say in the morning. Please let me be crazy enough to ask you to find me in a year. Please let a year not be too long.

You know the really strange, shivery sensation you get when your forever is staring you right in the face? Neither do I. I’ve never had it. Until now. Right now, my knees feel like they’re going to knock together, and that chilled-out feeling becomes so strong. It’s like suddenly having your eyes opened to the supernatural.

“I tend not to breathe very deeply when I sleep. It’s a condition. So I shouldn’t even smell anything.”

We both look at how tiny the couch is. There’s no way it’s going to be comfortable. And having to share it with another body? No, unfortunately, not my body. There isn’t any extra room.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

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