Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,65

play at a dive bar, giving me an orgasm in the back of his car, then fucking me senseless in his secret guitar lair meant this wasn’t fake anymore? That something was actually happening between us?

Okay, yes, that’s kind of what I’d thought.

Shifting, I tried to get comfortable. Soaking in the bath hadn’t done much to help me relax. I’d tried to read, but mostly I’d sat in the water replaying our conversation. I was hurt and frustrated, making it very difficult to enjoy Shepherd’s fantastic bathtub.

The door whispered open and my back stiffened. I barely heard his footsteps as he went into the bathroom and quietly shut the door. Was he trying to keep from waking me to be polite, or because he didn’t want to face me right now?

A few minutes later, he came out, still moving almost silently through the room. My skin prickled as he slipped into bed next to me. I felt every shift in the mattress, every tiny movement of the sheets.

Great. Now that he was here, I really wasn’t going to be able to sleep.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. His breathing was even and he hardly moved. He must have gone to sleep already.

How could he just fall sleep like nothing was wrong? Didn’t it bother him that we were basically fighting? What was I supposed to do tomorrow? Pretend like nothing had happened?

“Everly.”

His soft voice startled me from my thoughts. “Yeah?”

“You’re mad at me.”

Oh, you think? “I’m fine.”

He sighed. “That’s a lie.”

“Like our relationship?”

He made a growly noise in his throat and I clenched my teeth, trying to deny the way my body reacted to that sound. I did not need heat rushing to my core right now.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. You’re right. We’re pretending. That was the deal.”

He moved. I couldn’t see him, but it felt like he’d turned on his side to face me. “I wasn’t pretending when I kissed you at the hospital.”

“You’d just been through a really stressful experience.”

“Or at the bar.”

“That was intense. No one you know has ever seen you play before.”

“Did it seem like I was pretending in the car?” he asked, his voice low.

I hesitated, the insistent tingling between my legs getting harder to ignore. “We were… it was just… any man would respond to a woman straddling him in the back seat of his car.”

“Everly—”

“Fine, I’m sure your hard-ons last night were very real. But an erection doesn’t mean anything. Guys can get erections for all kinds of reasons. They don’t even have to like a woman to have a physical response to her.”

“That’s not my point.”

I flipped over to face him. In the darkness, I could just make out his features. “Then what is your point?”

“That I’m sorry. I only meant my dad thinks the engagement is real. Regardless of what happened last night, I think we can both agree we’re not actually engaged.”

Okay, he did have a point. Even though I was positively drowning in feelings for him, the engagement was most certainly not real.

“Yeah, that’s true.” I rubbed my bare finger with my thumb. I kept the golf ball on a band that was my fake-engagement ring in a little dish on the bathroom counter at night. “I guess I can kind of see your point.”

He took another deep breath. I could practically feel his chest expand with his slow inhale. “Last night was…”

I bit my lip, waiting for him to continue. It was what? Amazing? Mind-blowing? A night that would alter the course of his life forever?

“It was hard for me,” he said. “You’re right, it was intense.”

Oh god, vulnerable Shepherd was showing himself again. That was worse than if he’d said it was the best sex he’d ever had. I wanted to grab him and cradle his head against my chest.

“Yeah, it was,” I said.

“But I’m glad I shared it with you.”

My heart did a little pirouette in my chest. “Me too.”

We lay together in silence for a moment. My toes brushed his leg and I almost gasped. I hadn’t realized I’d been stretching my foot toward him. Judging by how close his leg was, he’d been doing the same.

Reaching. Inching toward each other.

“Everly?”

“Yeah?”

He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me toward him. I found myself on his side of the bed for the first time, crossing yet another invisible line. He was shirtless, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I could