Page 16 of Fake It 'Til You Feel It

I lean back against the headboard, my eyes still locked on hers. “Maybe you are.”

“Nathan,” she warns, but there’s a softness in her voice that betrays her.

I move without thinking, crossing the small space between us and moving to the couch beside her. The air shifts again, thickening with something unspoken. My gift to her is still in her lap, but her attention is entirely on me now.

“This is a bad idea,” she repeats, but she doesn’t move away.

Charmingly, I’m reminded of our previous ‘bad idea’ earlier on the deck. She had looked so beautiful with her lips swollen from our passionate kiss set against the sunset. “Probably,” I echo back, my voice low and grin wide.

The space between us disappears as I cup her face gently, tilting her head up. She leans into my hand, her mouth soft, expectant. I let my thumb caress her cheek gently, and then I’m kissing her.

It’s different this time. Not hurried or frenetic, but deliberate and all-encompassing. Her hands find my shoulders, then my chest, her grip firm as though she’s trying to hold herself steady. I laugh gently against her lips, pausing for a moment to breathe.

“I don’t think this’ll steady your sea sickness,” I tease.

She doesn’t even open her eyes as she impatiently responds. “Shut up.” She captures me in a sensual kiss this time, not even giving me the opportunity to reply.

Before I can overthink it, I pull her into my lap, her thighs bracketing mine, her dress bunched up around her hips. The kiss deepens, her body grinding against mine as her hands roam my chest. It’s all heat and friction—a tangle of desire neither of us seem able to stop. My hands slide up the outside of her thighs and grip her rocking hips beneath the fabric of her dress, guiding her movements. The sensation is maddening, indulging in such a deliciously torturous act.

Her fingers tug at my hair. Her breath comes in short, uneven gasps against my mouth. Every sound she makes, every shift of her body, sends all the blood to my rock hard cock, drowning out reason.

“Nathan,” she whispers, her voice raw, shaky—half warning, half plea.

The way she breathes my name is my undoing. For a moment, I’m sure I’ll let us crash through every boundary we’ve set. But then reality punches through the haze—not with cold logic, but with something far worse.

The truth.

This isn’t just heat. Just tension. Just a moment I can walk away from. This is her. And she is the one thing I can’t seem to turn my back on.

I don’t know if I can stop.I don’t know if I want to.

My grip tightens at her hips, my fingers flexing against the fabric of her dress. I need to pull away. I know I do. But Dana’s breath is warm against my jaw, her hands still gripping my shoulders like she’s anchoring herself to me.

Like she doesn’t want to let go either.

I pull back a fraction, forehead resting against hers as we both try to catch our breath. Her weight is still pressing into me, but the frantic urgency between us dulls into something more dangerous. Something much worse.

Something inevitable.

“This is all pretend, remember…” she says softly, but there’s no conviction in it. Her voice shakes, like she’s trying to convince herself more than me. “We’re doing this to seal a deal. Impress a client. That’s…that’s it.”

“That’s it.”

The lie scrapes against my throat. My pulse is still hammering, and I can’t tell if it’s from how close she is or the war raging inside me. This isn’t pretend.It hasn’t been for a while, has it?

Her fingers twitch against my shoulders, like she’s expecting me to let go, but I don’t. I can’t. Every muscle in my body is tight, screaming, a battle between what I should do and what I want.

“Say it again.” My voice is lower, rougher than I mean for it to be. I shift my grip, dragging her just a little closer. “Tell me this is just an act.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak. Her silence is enough to destroy me.

I exhale sharply, my pulse a riot against my ribs. “Yeah,” I murmur, voice thick and strained. “You’re right.”

But my hands stay at her hips, holding her steady, even as every cell in my body wants to pull her closer.

For a moment, we’re frozen, caught in the aftershocks of something we shouldn’t have started. Slowly, she eases back, sliding off my lap and settling beside me on the couch. Her gaze is everywhere but on me, her cheeks flushed.

She picks up her pajamas from the top of her luggage and disappears into the bathroom. I exhale, dragging a hand down my face. My pulse still pounds, my skin still burns where she was.

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