by Emma Hart
“How do you know that?”
“I talked to Mark. Obviously.” He quirked a brow. “Stop interrupting me.”
“But it’s more fun when I do. You make a lot less sense when it’s interspersed with my bullshit.” I smiled as I sipped.
Adam shook his head, sipping, too. “I’m just saying. You’re more put together than you give yourself credit for.”
“Except for when I slipped on the bathroom floor.”
“Except for when you slipped on the bathroom floor,” he agreed, shooting me a glance out of the side of his eye. His lips twitched, tugging up to one side in a smile that matched the spark in his eyes.
I looked down, breaking the connection of our gaze. My cheeks were burning, and butterflies were going crazy in my tummy. I couldn’t even blame the shiver that ran over my arms on the breeze—it wasn’t strong enough to get me while I was protected by the strong glass fencing.
It was him.
All him.
And once again, Rosie’s words came back to haunt me.
“You’re doing a really good job of pretending you’re into each other.”
I fucking wished I was pretending. I fucking wished I didn’t get butterflies when he looked at me or shivers when he touched me. I wished I hadn’t had that fairytale-style kiss with him in the parking lot.
I wished I wasn’t sitting next to him right now, wishing we could close the gap between us so I could tuck myself into his side.
More than anything, I wished I wasn’t even in this position.
Why hadn’t I just walked away when I’d woken up in his bedroom? Why had my awkward ass asked him to be my date? I should have known better. Hadn’t I seen a hundred romcom movies about this?
And if not, why not? Someone needed to make a few.
Warning: Take a fake date, and it might not be so fake.
I hated thinking that. We were different worlds. Not in terms of money or status or stature, but sports was not my thing. I was not the girl who could ever stand in sidelines and pretend I cared about what the hell I was watching.
I also highly doubted I was the kind of girl who could ever sit and learn the rules of any kind of sport that wasn’t beer pong.
Was that even a legit sport? Or had I just wasted my teen years on a mindless game that did nothing but make me a master beer drinker by high school graduation?
Eh. Either way, I was good with it. I was holding my gold medal high and proud.
“Poppy? Are you all right?” Adam reached over and pushed hair away from my eyes.
“Thinking,” I said softly. “About something Rosie said earlier.”
“Care to share with the class?”
Smirking, I elbowed him. “She knows this isn’t real.”
“Shock horror,” he muttered.
Another elbow headed his way before I drew into myself. I twirled the champagne glass by its stem, my fingers drawing lines in the condensation of the glass as the warmth of my fingertips beat the coldness of the alcohol.
“What else did she say?”
“What do you mean?” I tilted my head to look at him.
He shrugged, looking out at the ocean that was barely-lit by the lights that illuminated the paths of the resort. “You haven’t been right since you eloped to the bathroom. I know she said something to you. And before you argue—I have four sisters. I know when a woman is pissed off. I grew up with an almost constant rotation of periods.”
I laughed into my hand, setting my empty glass down on the balcony between us. Now, I was glad for the space. I’d wished just moments ago for it to be closed, but I was happy for it.
“She just…She said something that got to me, that’s all,” I said.
Adam picked up my glass and the bottle and refilled it halfway, just leaving enough for his. “What did she say?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Not that stupid if you’ve got your panties all up in a twist about it, Red.”
Yeah, well, that was his opinion. “I get my panties up in a twist about a lot of stupid things. Not having enough butter for my toast. Cliffhangers 0n TV shows when I’ll get the next episode the following day. My neighbor’s cat scratching at me—”
“Point well taken,” he said, touching his finger to my lips to make me shush. “But that doesn’t cover what your sister said.”
I wasn’t getting out of this, was I? No, because I’d gotten myself into it in the first damn place.
I sighed. “She said we’re doing a really good job at pretending not to be into each other.”
Adam jerked his head to the side, eyes finding mine quickly. He stared at me for a second with a flat expression. My stomach tied in knots—what if he agreed? What if I was more into this fake relationship than he was?
Why did I even care?
Then, he laughed.
Burst into laughter, actually. His entire body shook as his deep chuckles sent tingles across my arms.
“I’m glad it’s so amusing to you,” I muttered, putting the glass down out of reach and getting up.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed.”
“Come here.” He reached over and grabbed my hand.
Stopping, I looked down at him. The sun had finally gone down, but the sky was still painted with golden hues—hues that danced across his features and made his eyes seem ten times brighter than normal.
I swallowed. “What?”
“Sit.” He tugged on my hand.
I didn’t move.
“I swear, Red, if you don’t sit, I’ll stand up and make you.”
I took my hand from his and crossed my arms. Was I being petulant? Yes. Petty? Yes. Immature? Probably.
At least I could admit my faults.
The one thing I couldn’t admit was that the idea of him not being into me bugged me more than I thought it would.
Adam jumped to his feet.
Oh shit.
He was serious.
“No! No! I’ll sit!”
He grabbed me, picking me up with one sweeping movement. A tiny scream escaped me as he did that, one arm around my back and the other behind my knees.
Oh god, there wasn’t enough room on this balcony for this.
“Put me down!” I squeaked.
“No. I warned you.” Slowly, he sat down, taking me down with him. I didn’t know what I was more impressed with—the fact he’d swept me up like I was freaking Cinderella or that he hadn’t dropped me.
He set me down between his legs and leaned back against the wall. My back was against his stomach, and he pulled me back so we were sitting together. His legs were bent at the knees, caging me in, and my own were pulled up thanks to minimal room.
My heart fluttered in my chest as he tilted his head so his breath skirted over my cheek. It was warm and smelled like whiskey.
His fingers trailed up and down my forearms, lightly tickling me. It was weirdly soothing, such a tiny touch that I didn’t want him to stop.
It was comfortable.
Too comfortable.
“I’m not pretending I’m into you, Red,” he said softly into my ear. His lips brushed my earlobe, his fingers still trailing up and down my arms.
It was a dangerous mix of sensations.
“I’m into you. Don’t think I’m not. Pretending to be your boyfriend is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” His voice was low and warm and…honest.
I didn’t know honesty had a sound, but here I was, hearing it.
“You don’t have to like it, but I can’t help it.” He shifted to the side slightly, reaching to cup the side of my face. He moved me until our eyes met. “I know this is fake, all right? I know that we’ll probably never see each other after Monday. But that doesn’t mean that my attraction to you right now isn’t very, very fucking real.”
I swallowed.
“I mean, you’re crazy, aren’t you?” His lips twitched, eyes dancing with mirth. “You’re a complete antagonist to your family, but you’re als
o the cog that seems to keep them all turning. The strawberries, the drugging—while a questionable means of showing your love, still works.”
I covered my mouth, biting back a laugh, looking away.
Adam hooked a finger beneath my chin and tilted it back up. “You have a smarter mouth than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’m fucked if I know why that’s so attractive to me, but there you go.” He trailed his finger along my cheek and pushed hair from my eyes. “That’s just a couple things I like about you, Poppy. If you were worried I wasn’t into you, then don’t be. And if you were worried that I was, then tough shit.”
I laughed, leaning against him and resting my head against his chest. He was laughing too, and for a moment, that was all there was.
Me and a guy who was into me, cuddled on a balcony, laughing.
And a part of me really wished this didn’t have to be fake. But it was one thing to feel comfortable in a private setting—a public one was something else altogether.
And that was ultimately why we really did only have four days.
Adam tucked his hand under my chin again and lifted it. This time, it wasn’t his eyes that found mine. It was our lips, coming together in a kiss that I felt from head to toe.
I wanted it to go on forever.
“Come on. Bedtime.” Releasing me, he motioned for me to get up first.
I did, using his thigh for leverage. He “umphed,” and I snorted. “That’s what you get for picking me up on a balcony made for toddlers and putting the fear of God into me.”
“Fear of God? Don’t you mean the fear of your mother?”
“I told you not to confuse Satan and God. Satan doesn’t like it.” I flashed him a grin over my shoulder as I left him to lock the doors.
I walked into the bathroom and grabbed my makeup wipes. By the time Adam joined me in there, I was makeup free and struggling to bend my arm behind me to undo my zip.
He leaned against the doorframe, eyes skirting over me. “What are you doing?”
I stopped hopping. “A performance for leprechauns.”
He looked around. “You don’t seem to have much of an audience.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” I dropped my arm before I dislocated my shoulder. “I can’t reach my zip. Can you help?”
“Can I help you undress? Oh, shit, what a hard decision,” he replied dryly, walking over to me. Gently, he turned me around to face the mirror once more and swept my hair to one side.
His fingers brushed over the small area of bare skin at the top of my back as he grabbed the zip. Slowly, carefully, he pulled it down. Shivers followed the trial of the zip as it lowered and finally stopped just above the curve of my ass.
Adam lifted his gaze to meet mine in the reflection of the mirror. “Done.”
“Thank you.” It came out a little scratchier than I’d intended, and I quickly darted away into the bedroom. His low chuckle followed me, so I shut myself in the walk-in closet.
It was pitch black. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, and for a second, that was a good thing. It allowed me to lean back against the wall and catch a breath.
My heart was pounding crazy fast. I could be running from a murderer and it couldn’t beat any faster. My mouth was dry, and I couldn’t put into a box what had just happened.
All I knew was that it was something very real, and I needed to stop it before my hare-brained heart got any stupid ideas about keeping in contact with Adam after this wedding was done.
The door opened, and I winced at the bright light from the bedroom.
“Red? What are you doing?”
He was asking me that a lot tonight.
Losing my mind? That was a good answer.
“I was looking for a tank top,” I replied dumbly. “To sleep in.”
He reached inside the door and flicked on the light. “That’ll be a lot easier with the light on.”
I nodded.
He smirked. “I have nieces who can lie better than you. They’re three.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered, yanking open the drawer that held my clothes. I pulled out a baggy top I liked to sleep in that said, “If you can read this, fuck off” and stepped out of my dress. Quickly removing my bra, I tugged the shirt over my head and went back into the bedroom, turning off the closet light.
Adam had already turned off the main light and had the one on the nightstand turned on. As I climbed onto my side of the bed, he reached behind him and turned it off.
He pulled me against him so we were spooning. His breath fluttered my hair, and his fingers splayed across my stomach beneath my shirt. Our legs tangled, and it was fucking horrible.
“I hate being touched when I sleep,” I grumbled.
“I know. But I’m sure you can manage two more nights.” He yawned, wriggling even closer.
“You didn’t read my shirt, did you?”
“No. But judging by your mood, it’s telling me to fuck off.”
I snorted because he was right. “Exactly.”
“My shirt says I don’t give a shit what yours says.”
“You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“I know. Aren’t you lucky? You can feel these abs all day long.”
I rolled my eyes as he stifled his own laughter behind me. “Wow. Someone thinks he’s funny.”
“Someone’s in a mood.”
“You’re touching me. I want to sleep. This is like torture.”
“All right. Fine.” He released me, untwining our legs, moving his hand from my stomach, and yanking his arm out from under my neck.
“Ow,” I muttered, shifting so not a single part of our bodies were touching.
That was better.
“Night, Red.”
“Night.” I moved, trying to get comfortable.
On my side.
On my back.
One arm over my head.
One foot out of the covers.
One leg out.
Both feet out.
On my other side.
Dammit.
“Stop wriggling,” Adam mumbled after a few minutes.
“I can’t get comfy.” I huffed and flopped onto my back, letting my arms fall like dead weights onto the bed.
Adam rolled onto his back. “You wanna cuddle?”
Yes.
“No,” I replied, rolling onto my side and against his.
He laughed, raising one arm and wrapping it around me as I nestled my head against his chest and hooked one leg over his. “Yeah. Feels like it.”
“I don’t want to.” I rested one arm over his toned stomach. “Just because I am cuddling you doesn’t mean I want to.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” he said dryly. “You’ll be asleep in minutes.”
I yawned. “No, I won’t.”
He laughed quietly, shoulders shaking, but didn’t say anything else to me.
“Adam?”
“Yeah?” His lips moved against the top of my head.
“I’m kind of into you, too,” I murmured, eyes heavy with sleep.
Gently, he squeezed me. “I know. I know.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – ADAM
Mimosas and Moms
We woke the same way we’d fallen asleep. Together, although we’d both been on our sides. Poppy’s ass had been nestled against my cock, and if we hadn’t been woken by the shrieking of her phone ringing, there was no doubt how the morning would have started.
Morning sex.
Damn her mom.
I was starting to see her point about her being Satan. My cock definitely was, and he’d protested the entire time I’d been in the shower.
I refused to jack off while she was in the next room. It felt weird and not…right.
I walked into the bedroom where Poppy was still grumbling to herself about seven a.m. wake-ups.
“You’re really not a morning person, are you?” I asked, rubbing my hair with a towel.
She shot me a look so fierce I think my balls receded back up into my body. “Do I loo
k like a fucking morning person?”
“You look like you should be the killer in a horror movie.”
She turned, her gaze never softening. Her shirt summed up her mood perfectly. “The early bird can have the worm. Because worms are gross and mornings are stupid.”
I couldn’t bite back the laugh that bubbled out of me. “Interesting shirt.”
Another flat stare at me. “Do you want to die?”
“In another seventy or so years,” I replied, tossing the towel onto the bed
“Can you put some clothes on?”
“You know something, Red? Where you’re concerned today, I’ve had brighter bouts of the stomach flu.”
She flipped me the bird. “It’s too early for this stuff. Seven in the morning and my mother is on the damn phone freaking about napkins. I told her to ask Rosie and she said she isn’t even awake yet!” She slammed her mascara down on the side as I tugged my boxers up over my ass. “She doesn’t get married until tonight! Can’t we all have a little lie-in to make up for a late evening wedding? Nooo, Commander-in-Chief Mom requires us all up and at it like I give a shit about napkins.”
I wanted to ask her if she was going to start her period, but I’d done that once with my sister and I never wanted to do it again. I still had the scar on my knee from her throwing a book at me.
It was a hardback and the corner had broken the skin.
That, and I’d been an irritating teen who picked the scab.
We all had our faults. I was a picker. That was mine. Everything but the nose.
So, I went for the safe route: “Do you want to go and get coffee?”
“Do I?” she asked, looking over at me. “What do you think?”
“I think I need coffee if this conversation is going to last much longer,” I said honestly, grabbing a t-shirt and shorts from my drawer.
She poked her tongue out at me and grabbed her hairbrush. Snapping a hairband onto her wrist, she pulled her hair up into a messy knot on top of her head. Wispy bits fell down over her pale neck and ears, and she pulled a bobby pin from her makeup bag to secure the neck bits.
She glanced over and saw me watching her. “What? Some girls can pull off a super messy bun. I’m not one of them. I look like I’m on the run from the police when I do it.”
“I think you look cute.”
“Now you’re just trying to placate me.”
