Page 39 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

“I bet he would say my cousins working so hard to derail me is only a reflection of the success I’ve achieved. The harder they work at it, the more successful I’ve become.”

“Maybe. Or he might also say the universe dealt you some crap cards because it had something else great waiting for you, but that doesn’t excuse the pain. It didn’t teach you how to be humble. You’re humble because you’re strong, and even though you’re successful, you realize that’s not all you are. He’d probably also say you should stop talking to your cousins because saying anything is just fuel for their asshole fire, and assholes shouldn’t be spouting flames.”

He grins, which is exactly what I wanted. I’m not sure why, but I would spend the rest of my life trying to make this man smile. He has a beautiful smile. I don’t know when it started to matter, but his happiness does matter to me. It makes my heart sing to see him looking a little bit less tired. A little less stressed.

On that note, I drain the pasta, spoon meatballs on top, and top both our plates off with sauce and more than a hearty sprinkle of parmesan cheese. You can never have too much parmesan. Unless you had all the parmesan. Well, nah, even if I lived in a house of parm and bathed in a bath of parm, I’d probably still think it wasn’t enough parm.

We sit down at the table across from each other. The meatballs are still hot, but that’s not why I hesitate to start eating. It’s more the fact that we’re doing this like it’s a thing. Having dinner together, ending our day together, starting out day together, solving problems along the way. I had my students and my work, Sterling had his work, and we’re still here now.

“Do you think it could work?” I didn’t want to ask him, but it finally came out. I guess I couldn’t keep it burning up inside any longer.

Sterling instantly looks more frazzled. I regret wrecking dinner before it even started.

I put up a hand. “Hold that thought.”

Our food can wait a hot minute. It needs to cool down anyway. I race to the living room and grab my guitar. Throwing the strap over my shoulder, I launch into one of the songs I haven’t even written down yet. It’s just been in my head, percolating around in there. A sad, mellow love song that certainly isn’t about me and Sterling and wasn’t inspired by him at all. I didn’t have him in my head in the least when I was writing it. Being totally honest here. Mmhmm, totally.

The way he cocks his head is adorable, but the way he’s instantly tuned in with everything else forgotten is…just wonderful.He focuses on my singing with the kind of single-minded intensity he would have if I were there auditioning to be signed to his label. It makes my belly flutter even while I’m singing and strumming and putting the final touches on a songthat I probably won’t even remember how it’s supposed to go when I go to put it on paper.

Maybe it’s best that way. Maybe it’s best that right here, right now, it was sung just for us. Not everything has to be written down. In fact, the best songs are probably the ones that never get sung.

That sounds a lot like dad wisdom right there.

Except he’d probably say, “They aren’t sung because they stay in your heart, and the heart is the best place of all for anything that matters.”

When I’m done, I watch as his eyes slowly flicker back open. I don’t even know when he closed them, but the way he looks at me isutterly arousing.It makes my toes, my nipples, and my clit all clench up. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my entire life.

The crazy thing is Sterling is looking at me the exact same way.

Did he look like this the first time he heard my song? The one that bound us together? The one that was fated to bring him here four years later?

I set the guitar aside and silently sit back down. I pick up a meatball, blow, and take a bite. It’s basically wonderment from a bag. This company has the seasoning down perfectly.

“Wow,” Sterling hums when he tries one of his. “I feel like whoever made these seasoned them perfectly.”

Gah. What does it say about us that we’re having synchronized thoughts? What does it say when seeing that hint of a smile turn up his lips makes me want to keep making him smile? It’s a bit of an all-encompassing desire for me to see him happy.

Something behind my breastbone swells.

It’s hot in here. I made it too hot by cooking. So I jump up and race to the new thermostat. It’s still such a crazy novelty for me that I can just go to the wall and adjust the temperature to my liking, and it happens pretty much instantly. I hear thehumming as the AC unit starts up outside. I turn to sit back down, but Sterling is here. Right here. Like a step behind me. My eyes shoot straight to his T-shirt, to the set of his shoulders, the muscles that trail down his arms starting under the thin fabric, to the ones I can see where the sleeves end, the ropey bands twining down to his hands and resting just below his hips. His hips, where his jeans hang low, and that T-shirt do other fabulous things like highlight the hard six-pack beneath.

It instantly heats me up to the point where even if it were glacial in here, no amount of AC would cool me back down. His hand shoots up, and he rakes it through his hair in one of thoseoh hellmotions, and then he reaches for me.

I step into his reach, and we crash together. My hands grasp his shoulders, my fingers and palms smoothing over his muscles to his neck, where I can get the best grasp. Soft hairs tickle me as I tilt my face up, and his mouth slants over mine.

This is the kind of kiss to end all kisses. It’s the kind of kiss that saysI’d rather be eating you than even the best balls. Meatballs, that is. Dinner. Spaghetti. All the dinners. Dessert too.Our lips battle it out, but then we both remember this isn’t a war, and we’re on the same team, so the kiss changes and deepens. Sterling’s hands sweep to my hips, and he steps into me, driving me back into the wall. I go happily, letting him press me there as I lean up against his solid body. I can feel how hard he is. He’s doing absolutely nothing to hide it, and now I realize that before this, he angled it away from me so I wouldn’t feel it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t turned on. This is every fantasy I’ve ever had coming true right here.

Sterling licks at my lips, and I lick back, tracing the seam of his mouth and exploring his bottom lip. He suckles mine back in response and groans like I’m the best meal he’s ever had. His hand caresses the curve of my hip right before I part my legs and invite him to step between him. Okay, it’s more like a not-so-subtle suggestion. Alright, it’s a straight-up demand. I need to grind against him. I need the friction of his hard thigh between my legs. And when I get it, I let out a sound that is barely human into his mouth while he makes one back in response.

I’ve been making music wrong my whole life. This symphony of primal and feral grunts and groans? It’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

Sterling grunts again, and then he growls and barks.

Barks.

Wait…what?

We break apart, and I whip back around to look at the table.

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