Page 28 of The Wedding Wrecker

It's fine. You're fine. It's just one night. With the man who broke your heart. In a bed. Sharing a pillow.

When I’d finished my nighttime routine and emerged, James had changed into sleep pants and nothing else. Because apparently the universe hated me. Despite trying very hard not to look, my eyes skidded acrosseverything,burning the image into my mind where it might never fade.

A dusting of chest hair on a broad, defined chest. Sharp rows of abs, arms that looked good enough to lick, and… well, his sleep pants were thin gray material. They did almost nothing to hide the shape of his package, which?—

I jerked my eyes up. “Would it be too much to ask for you to wear a shirt?”

“If you want me to toss and turn all night, I can. I was being kind by wearing pants. I usually don’t.”

“What do you usually wear?” I asked, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

James’ lips twitched. “Nothing. I get hot at night, so I usually sleep in the nude.”

Of course he does.

“I like your little sleep suit,” he said, gesturing. “Looks comfortable. But cold,” he added, eyes lingering on my chest.

I folded my arms, realizing my nipples had gone hard after seeing his shirt off and those freaking pants that were thin and partially see-through. I could actually see the full shape of his toned legs outlined by the moonlight coming in through the window, and even…

Nope. Nope.

I rushed into bed and pulled the comforter up to my neck.

“Good night,” I said with my back to him.

“Night, Emma,” he said, and he did that damn thing with my name again that made me feel like his hands were all over my body.

I shivered, pulling the comforter tighter as I heard the bathroom door shut and the water start to run.

When he returned to bed, he smelled fresh and minty—maybe the scent of his toothpaste or mouthwash. He slid under the blankets and I immediately felt his warmth radiating outward. It was impossible not to think about his body so close to mine—to think how nice it would feel for him to wrap his arms around me, especially since this room was freezing.

I curled in a little tighter, trying to gather some warmth from the blankets, but they seemed to hold the cold, making it impossible to warm up.

I lay there willing myself not to shiver.

Sleep seemed impossible. Especially when he shifted and some part of him brushed against my ass.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Rule number oneandtwo," I reminded him, but my voice sounded breathless even to my own ears.

"Right." He moved away slightly. "The rules."

I lay there in the dark, listening to his breathing, remembering another night when we'd been much closer. When his hands had?—

No. Not going there.

"Emma?"

"What?"

"I really am sorry. About Ireland."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Rule number three."

He fell silent. But I could feel him there, solid and warm and far too close.

How the hell was I going to survive this? Evenings full of touching and cuddling to play the happy couple, and nights like this? I had half a mind to roll over and kiss him—to tell him to fuck me right now so we could just get this awkward, annoying tension out of the way.

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