The Fastest Way to Fall(60)

My breath caught in my throat when Wes stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “No Aunt Delia?”

He smiled, tossing his jeans and T-shirt on his gym bag and kicking off his shoes. “I saw her coming, so I hid,” he said, plopping down on the mattress. “She’s relentless.”

“No one ever beats her and my uncle. You’re a legend in my family now.” I shifted my gaze to his face, but it wandered back to admire his body in what I hoped was a subtle sweep.

“Well, I had a good teammate.” His basketball shorts rested low on his hips, and a tight white T-shirt clung to the expanse of his chest and ridged abs. He caught me staring, and my face felt hot.

When my mom insisted he stay the night, she’d brought a sleeping bag and extra pillows, but winked and whispered that the bed might be more comfortable. I’d been grossed out at my mom choreographing a hookup for me, but watching him crouch and arrange the pillows, I thought the same. “We could share the bed,” I said. “You’re going to be uncomfortable on the floor.”

“I’ll be fine down here.” He fluffed the pillows and unrolled the sleeping bag. It was comically small, making me wonder if my mom had brought up a child-sized one.

“Come up here.” I patted the bed, and he hesitated. “I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re on the floor.”

He pushed back the too-small sleeping bag and stood. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” That was an understatement. Except sharing a bed with someone I found so irresistible was probably the worst idea of my life.

“I’ll try not to snore.” He had a dimple in his right cheek that showed up when he smiled like that, and I fantasized about running my fingertip from that divot up to slide through his hair, the curls visible with it grown out. His words pulled me from my fantasy as we both took the far edges of the mattress. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” I turned the bedside lamp off and flipped to my side. The moonlight filtered in from the open window, and I took in his profile as he lay on his back. “Thank you for doing this, for putting up with the entire Colby crew.”

“It’s been fun. Your family is awesome.” He propped his head on his elbow, body angled toward me. “And besides, you’re an easy fake girlfriend to love.”

My breath stuttered at his words. “Whoa, cowboy. Love? You’re moving a little fast, aren’t you? We’ve been fake dating for less than six hours.”

“When you pretend to know, you know.” His low chuckle shook the mattress enough to put my body on a delicious edge. “And after defeating your aunt, I’m feeling confident.”

“Fair. And, I’ll admit, the pretend sex is good—”

“Good? C’mon, girl. I rock your imaginary world.”

I nodded, warmth curling in me at the thought. “Fake nirvana and waking the invisible neighbors, every night.” The trees swaying in the breeze and the gentle chirping of crickets outside offered background noise as we lay together in a brief silence. “I don’t want to be that girl who needs to ask, but it’s not just physical, is it? I mean, you have real fake feelings for me, too?”

His gaze met mine, and he adopted a gravelly, sexy rumble that left a very real ache between my thighs. “Oh, baby,” he groaned, inching closer to stroke the side of my face. “I don’t know what to do with all the real fake feelings I have for you.” His thumb grazed under my lip, and he looked at my mouth for a split second. “It’s all I think about.”

My body was a pot of water one instant from boiling over with his hand still against my cheek, our bodies so close that his body heat would have warmed me, if I wasn’t already flushing from the idea of ripping his clothes off. In the dark, his hazel eyes were shadowed, but I felt like he could see me, really see me. Neither of us moved, and the eye contact seemed endless.

Eventually, he pulled his hand away, breaking our stare. “I mean, pretend to think about.”

We returned to silence, now less than a foot apart. I followed the line of his arm, tracing the muscles with my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, cutting into my thoughts.

“Why?”

“You got quiet. I took the joke too far.”

“Not at all.” Please touch me again. “This is weird, though, right?”

“Talking about our pretend sex life?”

“Yeah.” I smiled, despite my sexual frustration. “Unless you do this with all of your clients?”

“It’s more fun with you than the last guy.” His voice was back to normal, the smile evident in his words. “And you smell better.”

I punched him in the arm, and he feigned injury.

He added in a more serious tone, “You’re not just a client. I hope that’s clear. I . . .”

His fingers twitched, and I hoped he might touch me again, pull me to him, kiss me, but he kept his hand where it was, and he didn’t finish his sentence. That was the moment to tell him about the Best Life assignment and come clean, but I let his statement hang there too long, scared about what telling the truth would mean, how it would change things between us.

“For the record, you’re actually kind of great, Wes.”

The silence between us returned, filled with the things said and unsaid. The heat from his body and mine formed a cozy cocoon. After a moment of my admission hanging in the air, I glanced over, seeing his arm curled under his head and his eyes pointed to the ceiling.