Fake Engagement, Real Temptation

“Last night,” he started. “There’s more between us. More happened.”

She nodded in agreement and met his eyes. “Yes.” She licked her lips and shifted to look at him head-on. “I want my fantasy, to really feel it, experience all of it.”

“Okay, I can help with that.” He thought had been helping with that. “What more do you need?”

She shook her head. “I need to get out of my own brain.” The tone in her voice sounded defeated and frustrated. “I know what I want. But it’s not going to happen. And I see all these reminders all the time about what an idiot I am, and I just can’t take it.”

“Why the hell would you think you’re an idiot? Kevin is the idiot.”

“I know,” she said. “But it hurts. And I wanted so much, but I’m the idiot for thinking he was the one I could have what I want with.”

“What do you want, Carrie?” Blake asked.

“I want love. A family. A happy, full life. A man who doesn’t like yoga pants, because let’s face it, my butt is too big for them.”

Blake grinned. “You look good in everything,” he said, trying to stay away from the other things she mentioned, because no way in hell could he help with that. The love, family, commitment stuff was not his scene.

“I want to feel sexy. Wanted. But whenever I start to feel…” She blushed and glanced down at her hands.

“Feel…?” he coaxed, knowing that if these feelings were based on what he’d just seen, he had a good guess where she was going with this.

“In the mood,” she admitted softly. “I start to think too much. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to…to…feel good!”

He nodded. He could understand that. He wanted her to feel good, too.

“It’s your fantasy, little girl. You should have whatever you want,” he offered in agreement, trying not to look at her soft shoulders or how her neck sloped delicately into her collarbone. He also tried not to think of her gentle hands and where they’d just been. If she’d been thinking of him. Was praying she had been. Part of him even wondering if she still was.

Then he told that part of his brain to shut up. But the other part of his brain was on fire with desire for her.

Her eyes hit him. “Ask me again.”

He frowned. “Ask you what?”

“Ask me what I want,” she demanded.

Blake was still frowning but went along with it. “Okay, what do you want, Carrie?”

“You,” she whispered.

Her big molasses eyes locked on his, and sitting in a ruffled bed, in silk and golden hair, she looked like an angel.

Me. She wants me.

No, he had to stay strong.

“Carrie, we can’t. We’ve already danced along a fine line, but anything more and there would be no turning back.”

“Good,” she said. “I don’t want to turn back. I want to move forward. I feel better when I’m with you. And it’s not all fake. Part of my fantasy is feeling wanted. I haven’t felt wanted, sexy, in a long time.”

She glanced down at her hands again, and Blake hated the insecurity plaguing her face.

He said her name, trying to buy time to tell his brain why this was bad. Trying to think of a way to help her. I’m supposed to protect her from myself.

“Do you want me?” she asked.

Blake stared at her for a long moment. The answer was simple, but he couldn’t say the words, because then he’d be no better than what he was trying to save her from.

“Never mind,” she said.