“Understood.”
“Is it too much to ask you not to see anyone else until after the wedding?”
“Consider it done.” I’m surprised how little I hesitate, but I’d agree to anything to protect her from a man who terrifies her the way Rich so clearly did the day he was in town. “Any other rules?”
“Only one.”
I arch a brow, waiting. “Name it.”
“Don’t ask me about Rich. Don’t make me explain.”
Carter
One year ago . . .
One minute I’m standing at the bar at Jackson Brews, talking to Jake about his newest IPA, and the next someone grabs me by the shirt and molds her body to mine.
Not just someone. Teagan Chopra. She balls a fist in my shirt and tugs me close as she backs against the wall. It’s instinct to follow. Instinct to lean in and feel every curve of the body that’s starred in a good number of my fantasies. In fact, I might be dreaming, because I’ve had more than a few start like this—so many that blood is racing to my dick. Just. Like. That.
I’m not going to look the fool, though, so I arch a brow and play it cool. “Can I help you with something?”
She guides my head down until my lips are only a breath from hers. “Could you play along? Please?”
Play along as in . . . kiss her? Or play along as in stand here, painfully close to the mouth I dream about on a regular basis?
Her lips are bare tonight. No red lipstick or shiny gloss. Just naked pink lips so close to mine that my stomach knots with the desire to taste.
I flatten a palm against the wall behind her to steady myself. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Pretend to be my boyfriend or . . . something?” Her gaze slices to someone across the room then back to me.
I smile slowly. “What’s in it for me?”
I’m not an ass, but what she’s asking is going to cost me. Every time she inhales, her breasts brush my chest, and her citrus and lavender smell is filling my head and making me think about the last time we were this close. At my family’s cabin last summer, swimming in the lake. We were laughing. Flirting. I thought it’d be a good idea to pull her into my arms and kiss her. Arrogant fuck that I am, it never occurred to me that she’d react so badly when I lowered my mouth to hers—her panic more appropriate for a woman who was about to be shoved underwater than one who was about to be kissed. That memory makes me want to back up and forget how good she smells, how soft she is under the palm that’s slid toward her ass of its own volition.
I yank away my rogue hand as if I’ve been burned. Shit.
“I’ll owe you, okay? Any favor you want at the time of your choosing.”
I arch a brow. “Anything?”
“Please?” That’s when I see the fear in her eyes.
I swallow. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” So I step closer, lean in, and tilt my head, as if we’re in the middle of an intimate conversation and not two friends who have agreed to stay that way. I drag my knuckles up her side and feel her shiver under my touch. “Who is he?” I want to turn around and see him for myself—him, because I have no doubt this is about a guy—but I won’t look. I’ll stand here and play along. For her.
“An ex.” She wraps her arms behind my neck and buries her face in my chest. I hold her close, even when Jake flashes me a questioning glance behind the counter, even when I feel the eyes of the stranger behind us.
“Teagan?”
Her beautiful olive skin pales at the deep male voice. I keep my body angled toward hers but slowly turn my head.
Here’s a fun fact about guys who lift: we notice when other fit dudes are around. Measure ourselves against them. And the guy staring at Teagan right now makes me feel small. He’s not just built, he’s musclebound in a way that reminds me of the little brother from A Christmas Story. “I can’t put my arms down!”
I don’t recognize the guy as a local, but she clearly knows who he is—knows enough to want me to act as an emotional shield between them. Maybe a physical one, too.
Dismissing him with little more than a sneer, I turn back to Teagan and lower my mouth to her ear—a lover whispering a secret. “Need me to get rid of him?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head and shivers again. She’s not trembling from my touch or in anticipation of my kiss. She’s terrified, and that alone is enough to make me hate this man. I press my body closer to hers, the need to protect as instinctive as my pull toward her.