Bad Engagement (Billionaire's Club #10) - Elise Faber Page 0,31

get a little higher, the sky a bit brighter before she stirred, nuzzling at his throat, her breathing changing from to slow and steady to slightly faster.

Then she froze, ramrod stiff in his arms.

She was awake.

And naked.

Conscious that she might be feeling uncomfortable, he slipped out from beneath the blanket, careful to leave it covering her, then made his way into the hall.

Panties tangled with her shorts, both shoved in the corner.

Bra one way. Her tank top the other.

He gathered them all up and snagged her hoodie, which had somehow ended up on the coatrack, then headed back to her, setting them on the couch next to her.

She was staring out the front windows when he walked in, gaze on the lush greenery that was dotted with purple flowers, jumped when he placed the pile on the cushion beside her thigh.

Her eyes flew to his, a blush crept into her cheeks. “Jaime—”

He ran his knuckles over her cheek. “I’ll go make some coffee.”

“I—” Teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Coffee first,” he murmured, running his thumb lightly over her skin.

More hesitation then she nodded.

He went back into the hallway, moved to the opening he’d spied on his limited travels, and moved to the Keurig. Opening a couple of cabinets led him to a set of purple glasses lined up neatly next to a stack of purple plates.

Her favorite color is purple.

Remembering her quick recital from the other night had him smiling.

It seemed that her favorite extended to plates and cups. His eyes flicked to the right.

And coffee mugs, he realized, reaching past the tidy rows of purple drinkware to retrieve a pair of lilac ceramic cups, plunked them on the counter, and stuck a mocha pod in the coffee maker, then set the machine to run. Once it was working, he slipped out the front door and retrieved the bag of pastries, pleased to find out there were more than crumbs inside.

By the time he made his way back to the kitchen and was placing a slightly squished pumpkin muffin, an apple turnover with one end broken off, and a peppermint scone on the plate, Kate came in, fully dressed.

Now that was a disappointment.

The color was still high in her cheeks, but her eyes when they met his were soft. “Sorry, I fell asleep on you,” she murmured. “I . . . um . . . didn’t get much rest last night.”

He set down the bag, crossed over to her.

“My fault,” he said, tracing a hand down her arm, relieved when she didn’t back away, when she let him lace his fingers through hers and hold tight.

“No.”

He lifted a brow.

“Mine,” she explained. “I keep waffling between guilt at lying to my family, thinking that I should just stop this madness and confess the truth.”

“By stop this madness do you mean stopping . . . us?”

“Jaime,” she said and sighed. “I like you. I really do. But I don’t lie to my family.” A shake of her head. “I never have, and to lie about something this big.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I wanted the setups to stop, that’s it.”

The back of his throat burned, and he wanted to shout at her, to demand she acknowledge this, that they were more than just a lie.

But he needed to stay calm.

So, he gritted his teeth, sucked in a long, slow breath through his nose. One. Two. Three. Holding it in his lungs before releasing it just as slowly. Out. Two. Three.

Then he asked, “And the other thing?”

Her gaze came up, eyes sliding to his, questions in those whiskey depths.

He took solace in the fact that their hands were still laced together, squeezed her fingers lightly. “You said you were waffling,” he murmured. “What was the other thing you were waffling with?”

Bright white teeth pressed into a lush, rosy bottom lip.

“Kate,” he warned, using his thumb to free it, unable to stop himself from stroking his finger across the plump, lickable surface.

She shuddered. “God, I like it when you touch my lips like that.”

He grinned. “Then keep biting them, and I won’t be able to resist.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard.

“Kate.” Another warning, one that had her eyes flashing with fire, annoyance entering her tone.

“You haven’t earned the right to give me orders,” she snapped.

He dropped his hands to her waist. “Well, then tell me what you’re waffling with, Red. The lying to your family and what?”

A mulish expression on her face.

His fingers tightened.

Just slightly, but enough that he felt