The Bookworm's Guide to Faking (The Bookworm's Guide #2) - Emma Hart Page 0,34
glow of the sunrise as it fully crept up into the sky left the mountains bathed in an orange hue that made it feel like I was staring at a real-life postcard.
The bathroom door opened, and Holley stepped out, pausing in the doorway when she caught sight of me awake. She was wearing nothing but two towels—one wrapped around her body that she clutched at her breasts, and one twisted around her hair.
Water droplets ran down the sides of her faces and onto her chest where they traversed the curve of her collarbone, disappearing into the fluffy white towel that, if her white knuckles were any indication, she was gripping onto like her life depended on it.
“Morning,” I said gently.
Her tongue darted out and wet her lips. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” she replied, somewhat more honestly than I thought she would.
Something told me she didn’t want to talk about it right now.
“I ordered breakfast,” I offered. “I didn’t know what you wanted so I got a bunch of stuff. And coffee. And fruit.”
Nodding, she shifted, still holding onto the towel. “Not that this conversation isn’t completely riveting, but would you mind if I put on some panties?”
Right.
She was naked under that towel.
Mother—
I shifted on the bed and moved the covers so she wouldn’t see the fact that my cock had apparently engaged its brain and realized that fact at the same time my actual brain had.
If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.
She grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and disappeared back into the bathroom. I breathed out a sigh of relief when the door clicked shut, then moved the covers aside and looked down at my traitorous penis.
“Get down,” I whispered to it. “This is not the time.”
Now don’t think I’d lost my mind.
It could hear me.
Whether it listened was another matter altogether.
I dropped the covers again, and just in time. Holley came back out, this time fully clothed, but still wearing the towel on her head. She’d obviously caught my movement because she frowned before quickly schooling her expression into one of nonchalance.
“You wanna talk?”
“No,” she answered. “Not really.” She bent over and flipped her head forward so the towel loosened, unwinding until her wet hair flicked down. She squeezed the towel around her dark hair, then rubbed her scalp before she straightened and flicked it back up again.
Her hair was a mess.
She pulled a brush from her case and tugged it through her hair, and I waited until she was done before I spoke.
“We have to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” She finally looked at me, meeting my eyes. “Not right now. All I want to do right now is get through this wedding, get through this afternoon, get through pretending to be your girlfriend, and go home where I can forget this ever happened.”
A loud knock at the door got me out of bed. “Wrong answer,” I said, heading out of the bedroom to the suite door.
It was our breakfast, and I directed the guy to bring it into the main room. I signed the receipt he gave me and handed it all back, then he left.
Holley’s head poked around the door. “Is that coffee?”
“I said I got it.”
“Thank God.”
I stepped in front of the cart. “You’re not having it until we’ve talked.”
She froze. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?”
“You’re not gonna sound like anything if you try to have this conversation with me before coffee,” she warned, her eyes flashing in annoyance. “I don’t want to have this conversation at all.”
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” I walked toward her, and she backed up, right into the bedroom.
Perfect.
I could corner her in here.
“You don’t want to talk about it. You didn’t want to talk about it back then, either, and look where it got us.”
Her legs bumped into the bed and she fell back.
“But we’re not eighteen anymore, and we’re not gonna act like it either. So we’re going to talk about this, and we’re going to do it now.”
She folded her arms and looked up at me. “We are, we are?”
“Either way, I’m talking, and you’re going to listen.”
She looked out of the windows like a petulant child. Amusement flickered inside me. She was only doing that because I was being heavy handed, and if there was anything that Holley Stuart hated, it was being told what to do.
“I’m sorry I did it. I’m sorry I didn’t take enough time to make sure it was you. I’m sorry I waited