Trust Fund Fiance - Naima Simone Page 0,40
frame. Fire and ice. Arousal and shame. They intertwined like lovers inside her stomach, mating in a dirty dance. “You did it that night on the balcony and at the cemetery. At your parents’ home. And again in my office the day you came to see me. It’s your tell, Ray. Whenever you’re uncomfortable. Or nervous. Possibly even scared.”
He swept one more caress over her skin before dropping his arm. But he didn’t move back out of her personal space, didn’t grant her breathing room. Every inhale carried his earthy but fresh scent—like a cool, brisk wind through a lush forest. She wanted to wrap herself in it. But his too perceptive observation froze her to the spot.
“So whatever you’re thinking that has you feeling any of those emotions, stop it. Or tell me so I can take the fear away.”
Her attempt at diversion hadn’t worked last time, so she stuck to a believable half-truth. At least he hadn’t asked her how she got the scar. That, she could never admit to him. Because it would involve telling him her most carefully guarded secret.
“Why?” she murmured.
“Why what?” he asked. “Why do I want to take away your fear?”
She nodded.
“Because I’ve seen it one too many times in your eyes in the last few weeks, and I don’t like it,” he said.
She stiffened, taken aback by his words. But he cocked his head to the side, his gaze narrowing on her.
“Are you offended because I said it or because I noticed?” He hummed in his throat, lifting a hand to her again. This time he traced the arc of her eyebrow, then stroked a teasing path down the bridge of her nose before sweeping a caress underneath her eye. “These gorgeous brown eyes? They tell everything you’re feeling. Whether you’re amused, irritated, frustrated, thoughtful or angry. In a world where people deceive and hide, you’re a refreshing gift of an anomaly. Except...” He exhaled roughly, still brushing the tender skin above her cheekbone. “You have secrets, Reagan. Your eyes even betray that. I don’t need to know what they are to know they hurt you, make you guard this beautiful heart.”
He pressed two fingertips to her chest, directly over the pounding organ. The organ he called beautiful but one that had caused her so much pain and disillusionment.
The organ that even now beat harder for him.
Taking several moments, she studied the dark, slashing eyebrows, the vibrant, light green eyes that seemed to miss nothing, the sensual fullness of his mouth, the silky facial hair that framed his lips and covered his rock-hard jaw. Beautiful. Such a beautiful man.
And hers. At least for the next year.
Hers to touch. To take into her body. To lie next to.
But not to love. His heart belonged to a dead woman, and he had no intention of trying to reclaim it. He’d warned her of that early in their bargain. And this heat between them—this heat that threatened to incinerate rational thought and sense—it warned her that if she wasn’t careful, she could once again be that reckless sixteen-year-old willing to throw caution to the wind for love.
She’d vowed never to be that girl again.
Once more she skimmed a finger over the scar at her collarbone. The one she’d earned just before she miscarried and lost her baby.
She courted danger now, with this arrangement with Ezekiel. But if she held tightly to the reminder that pain and love were two sides of the same coin, she wouldn’t cross that line into heartbreak. Because she refused to give him her heart.
But her body? Oh, that he could have.
Meeting his unwavering gaze, she slowly set the glass of wine on the glass table behind her. She moved forward, circling around him and heading out of the room toward the luxurious master suite. A huge king-size bed dominated the middle of the room while a wall of windows granted a sprawling view of Vegas and the desert beyond. The small sitting area with two ornate chairs and a small glass table occupied one corner, and a dainty vanity filled the other. A closed door hid the cavernous and opulent bathroom with its double sinks, Jacuzzi tub and glass shower big enough to accommodate an entire sorority.
Yet, as she spun around to face the door, nothing in the bedroom captured her attention like the man in the entrance. With one shoulder propped against the frame and his hands in his suit pants pockets, he silently watched her. Waited.
They hadn’t discussed