Husband for a Weekend

One kiss, she promised herself.

Okay, two.

By the time they finally surfaced for oxygen, she’d lost count.

Somehow she’d ended up wrapped around him like a vine on a fencepost. She didn’t immediately disentangle herself, but frowned sternly at him with her face still inches from his. “This is a really bad idea.”

As closely as she was pressed against him, she could tell exactly how aroused he was by their kisses, though he nodded in agreement with her words. “You’re right. Very bad idea.”

He brushed his lips across her forehead and she shivered a little. “We have to stop,” she said with a soft moan.

He drew back. “Okay.”

She looked at him somberly, then found herself kissing him again. This time she couldn’t have said who started it. Nor who unfastened the first button, or dragged first at a shirt hem.

“Still a bad idea,” she muttered even as she half dragged him toward her bedroom.

He planted kisses on her ear, her lips, her chin. “I know.”

“And it doesn’t change a thing between us.” She kicked off her shoes.

“No,” he agreed, making her shudder with a well-placed stroke.

“Starting Monday, everything goes back to usual.”

“Okay. Sure.”

“We’re just…scratching an itch.”

“A little more than that,” he corrected, rolling with her on the bed.

“Nothing serious,” she insisted, arching her neck when he pressed his lips to the pounding pulse in her throat. “Just this once.”

“Probably for the best,” he agreed, stringing a line of kisses down to the center of her chest.

Her breasts tightened in eager anticipation. It was growing increasingly difficult to even think clearly, much less form halfway intelligible words. “And none of our…”

She squirmed, moaned softly, then tried to complete her sentence. “None of our friends need to know about this. Your sister—”

“This is none of her business.”

“No, but—oh, Tate…”

Raising his head, he looked at her in the deeply shadowed bedroom. His hair was tumbled around his face, and she could see his eyes glittering almost feverishly in the dim light. “Kim. I can leave now and we’ll put this behind us. Or I can stay. Your call.”

She reminded herself that she liked being in charge. That she didn’t want other people making decisions for her. That she wasn’t the type to appreciate being swept off her feet by a handsome prince who would take care of all potential consequences for her. It might have been easier, though, if she could have just left it all up to Tate.

Because she wasn’t that dependent type, she drew a deep breath and reached for the drawer in the nightstand. The box she kept stashed there had not been needed in a long while, but she would take no more careless chances in that respect.

“Stay,” she said, setting the box within easy reach. “Just this once.”

His lips only a breath from hers, he smiled. “What did I tell you about the next time we shared a bed?”

She tangled her hands in his hair. “Just shut up and kiss me, Price.”

He chuckled. “Yes, dear.”

* * *