Page 26 of Faking It (Close Quarters 1)

What is it going to be like between us this morning? Will he be remote and act like it never happened? Will he tell me he had a good time? I’m not sure which is worse. Because as much as I had the time of my life last night—and gotexactlywhat I wanted—I’m far from getting it out of my system. In fact, I want nothing more than to search him out and drag him into the shower.

“For all you know he already left,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.

A rustle on the other side of the room startles me, and Owen walks into the bedroom from the little corridor that leads to the rest of the suite. “No dice, Anderson. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Don’t high-flying businessmen usually take off at first light?”

“Well, thisismy hotel room. So I guess you should have been the one to take off.” He’s wearing jeans and a fitted black hoodie, and looking every bit as delectable as he did last night in his suit pants and shirt.

Wait a minute... “How did you get changed?”

I hadn’t even given a thought to what might happen this morning, and whether or not I’d need to do the “walk of shame” back to 21 Love Street. Although that term strikes me as dated—there’s nothing shameful about having sex. They should really call it “the walk of blisters” because lord knows putting on those wretched heels again will be hell on my feet.

“I went back to the apartment.”

That’s when I notice Owen is carrying a calico bag over one shoulder. “I didn’t even hear you leave.”

“You were dead to the world.” The corner of his lips quirks up and it’s the sexiest expression I’ve ever seen. Not quite a smile, not as hard as a smirk. Just something crooked and imperfectly in the middle. “And I figured you probably wouldn’t want to head home in that dress from last night. It’s chilly out.”

My heart melts. “You went all the way back there to get me a change of clothes?”

“It’s not far.” He shrugs, as if suddenly trying to downplay the kind gesture. “And there’s coffee on the table out there.”

Okay, now Ireallymelt. The way to my heart is not with chocolate or flowers or any of that gooey crap—it’s with a so-strong-it-punches-you-in-the-face coffee. Almost as if the fumes of caffeine are carrying me, I drift past him into the main room of the hotel suite. Two white takeaway cups sit side by side—identical except for the black Sharpie scribble. A flat white, his. And a triple-shot latte, mine.

“Come to mama.” I take the cup in my hands and bring the liquid gold to my lips.

“I ran into Rowan this morning.” Owen picks up his coffee and sips. I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror and we look like a couple who’s been together forever—him with his hair mussed and stubble on his jaw, and me—looking equally mussed—wearing a robe. “He mentioned there’s a barbeque on for building residents today. Apparently, they do it once a month.”

“Seems like a very social building.” The place where I live currently is nothing like that. “Might be a good way to meet some of the other residents...if you think it’s time to start talking to people.”

I can tell my teasing hits the right spot when Owen shoots me a look. “Very funny. But yes, I agree we should go.”

“What do you know, we finally agree on something.”

Owen puts his cup down and stalks forward—I see a hint of the fire from last night. A fire which has burned me so bad I’ll never lose the scars. Last night was...everything. Everything I knew it would be, everything I hoped it would be. Everything I was terrified of because there’s no way in hell one night will ever be enough.

“I think we agree on something else.” He reaches out and traces the edge of the bathrobe, starting near my collar bone and going all the way down to where the belt is knotted at my waist.

“What’s that?” My voice trembles.

“That you’re crazy hot.”

I’m not sure I agree on that, but I like the way I look reflected in his eyes. I’m the best version of myself—the most confident, the most desirable. I’m not ready to leave the hotel. Like a junkie, I need one more hit. Just one more...

We’re entering a dangerous place, going back on the agreement we made for this to be a one-night thing—if we’re breaking our own rules already, then what hope do we have of controlling the beast we’ve unleashed?

What hope doIhave of protecting my heart?

Because I know Owen is worried I’ll want more than he’s willing to give. Truth be told, I’m worried about that, too.

He tugs on the knot, loosening the fluffy fabric and letting the robe fall open. “Fucking hell, Anderson. You’ve got me hooked.”

“I thought you were supposed to call me Annabel,” I say. I wish I could get out of my own head and go with the flow. I wish I could indulge in my desires and stop always worrying about the consequences.

If he keeps touching me, I know I’ll give in. I’m powerless when it comes to him—but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about getting hurt.

“Yeah, I totally forgot about that when I woke up this morning.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “You’ll always be Anderson to me.”

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