Page 32 of Counterfeit Boyfriend
14Gwen
“You got your wish,”Evan said in a quiet voice as my eyes fluttered open. He stood across the room, and when he reached up and tugged on a cord, the curtains split, flooding the room with light.
I lowered my eyebrows, trying to remember my wish, but the last wish I remember having was that he’d kiss me and we’d make better use of the bed than a mere cuddling session. Although that was hardly fair—it’d been a spectacular cuddling session. “Not unless we had sex and I missed it.”
Oops. That wasn’t supposed to come out of my mouth.Inside thoughts, inside thoughts.
Evan chuckled and flashed me a cocky grin. “Trust me, if that’d happened, you wouldn’t have missed it. You’d remember every single minute, I’d make sure of that.”
Heat twisted deep in my core, and I contemplated telling him to put his money where his mouth was. Or to just put his mouth on me—yeah, we should definitely take out the middle man and get right to it.
“I meant your brain taking a vacation,” he said before my sloggy mind could come up with the perfect flirty line.
“Right. That wish.” I reached up and pressed my fingertips to my temple. “Unfortunately, this stupid brain of mine is still trying to spin. I might need a distraction to ensure the not-thinking thing.” I pushed to my knees, planning on kissing him.
Then I realized my breath might not be the best, and from the feel of it, my hair was a tangled mess.
“No slamming your big, beautiful brain on my watch. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
Was that his way of saying he was more attracted to my brain than my body?Thanks, insecurities. Why don’t you go away for a few minutes and take my thoughts with you?
Evan’s demeanor morphed into serious mode as he squared off in front of me and crossed his arms. “But I do want to talk to you about something I don’t think is the smartest of choices.”
I frowned. This was going downhill quickly. Maybe I should throw the covers over my head, reset, and try again. I’d roll onto my side, flash him a coquettish smile, and say in a smoky, sultry voice, “My wish is for you to come over here and join me. After I brush my teeth and comb my hair, that is.”
Yeah, real spontaneous.
An idea about asking him to join me in the shower flickered through my head, but then I noticed his hair was damp and he was all dressed and ready to go, and a pang of disappointment went through me. Apparently he’d gone and showered without me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “We’re going to talk about this whether you like it or not.”
I flopped down on my heels. “I feel like I need coffee before this conversation.”
The bed dipped with Evan’s weight. “And I feel like it’s better if I get this out before you start talking one-hundred miles an hour and distract me with that pretty mouth of yours.” He reached up and brushed his thumb across my lower lip, and butterflies fluttered, helping blow some of the rising apprehension away.
A hungry look entered his eyes as they skimmed down me, and he swallowed hard. Then he seemed to shake himself out of it, his hand dropping to his side. “This saving your EpiPen thing? I don’t like it. I need you to keep breathing.”
Oh. That wasn’t nearly as bad as I was imagining. “Okay, but I did keep breathing. Not sure about the walking and talking, but I breathed all night.” I spread my arms to demonstrate how fine I was. “Obviously.”
Amusement danced across the curve of his mouth. “You talked some, too.”
My stomach bottomed out and I dropped my head in my hands. “Of course I did.”
“Do you remember telling the hotel clerk that you were basically taking advantage of me.”
I groaned as the hazy memory came back to me.
Evan peeled my hands from my face and wrapped them in his. “In the middle of the night, you also told me that grooming was all booked, but you could slot me in for my rabies shots.”
My cheeks burned. “I did not,” I automatically said, although I didn’t truly doubt it. I often dreamed about work, and on any given day, people came in without an appointment and couldn’t believe I wouldn’t simply bump other animals for their pookie-poo.
He slipped his fingers into mine. “Where else would I get that from? It’s a very particular thing to make up—my imagination’s not that good.”
Not that denial would help my embarrassment, but I clung to it anyway. “Unless you’re just a liar, liar, pants on fire, thinking you can take advantage of your gullible girlfriend thanks to her drug-induced coma.”
Every ounce of humor evaporated from his features and then he was pulling away.
“Evan, it was a joke.” That only seemed to cause him more pain. “Would now be a bad time to ask if you’ve had your rabies shots?” My attempt to lighten the mood dive-bombed, crashing to the ground in a puff of smoke.
