Page 31 of Cold Feet
Cam's reflection grinned back at me from the mirrored wall, his eyes lingering on mine with unmistakable heat. "Told you we'd be convincing."
"A little too convincing, maybe." I twisted the ring absent-mindedly, the weight of it already feeling dangerously familiar. "My mother is already mentally planning our wedding. Pretty sure she's picking out centerpieces as we speak."
"Is that so terrible?" he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned closer, his broad shoulder brushing against mine. "The thought of being stuck with me?"
My pulse quickened traitorously. "I've been stuck with you since college, Murphy. What's a lifetime more?"
His eyes darkened at the reference to our shared past, and for a breathless moment, I thought he might close the distance between us right there in the elevator.
The elevator dinged before I could find out, saving me from having to unpack the molten heat suddenly between my legs. We stepped out into the plush corridor, the silence between us crackling with electricity neither of us seemed willing to acknowledge.
"Thanks for walking me back," I said as we reached my door, fumbling with the key card, my fingers suddenly clumsy and uncooperative. "It's been quite a night."
"Yeah," Cam agreed, leaning one shoulder against the wall beside my door, making no move to leave. His tie was loosened just enough to expose the strong column of his throat, and I had to forcibly drag my eyes away. "Quite a night."
The hallway felt impossibly narrow, the air between us charged with ten years of unspoken want. I glanced up, finding his eyes already on me, darkened to midnight blue in the dim corridor lighting. He was standing close enough that the now faint scent of his cologne wrapped around me like an embrace – familiar and intoxicating.
"Zayne seemed pretty unhappy," I said, panicky for a safe topic. "Did you see his face when my mom mentioned the ring?"
Cam winced. "Hard to miss. I think he was mentally reviewing which penalty box would be the best place to hide my dismembered body parts."
"He's just protective."
"I've noticed," Cam murmured, his eyes never leaving mine, tracing over my features with such intensity I felt physically touched. "It must be nice, having someone care that much."
There was something nakedly vulnerable in his voice that made my heart twist painfully.
"It can be suffocating sometimes," I admitted, swallowing hard. "But yes, it's nice."
His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there long enough for heat to bloom from my cheeks all the way down to my chest. "Lana..."
"Yes, Cam," I breathed, not pulling away as he leaned closer, the wall cool against my bare back as my body instinctively arched toward his.
His fingertips brushed mine, a whisper of contact that sent liquid fire racing through my veins. The space between us seemed to evaporate, the world narrowing until all I could see was the flicker of raw hunger in his eyes.
"This doesn't really feel like pretending," he whispered, so close now that I could feel his breath feathering against my parted lips.
My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to stage a prison escape. We were crossing a line, obliterating the carefully drawn boundaries of our arrangement, and I couldn't find it in myself to care. Not with the memory of his strong arms around me on the dance floor still branded into my skin, not with the weight of his ring on my finger, not with the way he was looking at me now – like I was everything he'd ever wanted but couldn't have.
Heleaned in slowly, agonizingly, a millimeter at a time, my breath suspended in my lungs and desire coiling tight and hot between my legs. Just as his lips were about to claim mine, a voice like a thunderclap shattered the moment.
"What the HELL is going on?"
We sprang apart like teenagers caught making out in the basement to find Zayne storming down the corridor toward us, still in his suit pants and dress shirt, tie gone, top buttons undone, face like a gathering storm.
Lightning fast, he closed the distance between us and shoved Cam hard against the wall, forearm pressed against his chest.
"I knew it," he growled, eyes blazing. "What the hell, Murphy? I thought I could trust you.."
"Zayne!" I hissed, glancing frantically at the neighboring doors. "Not here!"
Cam raised his hands in surrender, making no move to fight back despite being perfectly capable of it. "Easy, man. Let's talk about this."
My key card forgotten, I grabbed my brother's shoulder. "Zayne, stop it. You're making a scene."
"I'm making a scene?" He laughed bitterly, but eased the pressure on Cam's chest slightly. "That's rich coming from you two and your little performance tonight."
I managed to get my door open, practically shoving both men inside before any curious hotel guests or – worse – reporters could investigate the commotion. The door clicked shut behind us, and I leaned against it, heart racing.
