Chapter 19
Megan
Hold the phone.
Jameson wants me to sleep in his bedroom?
With him?
“But, what about my things?”
Weak protest.
I picture my suitcases in my guest bedroom, and myself fleeing there to get them. And maybe hide from my new fiancé. I’m sweating.
But I don’t move.
“They’re all settled in our room. I had Clara get it ready for us.”
Our room.
Ready for us.
Oh god.
“When… when did you do that?”
“When I got out of the shower. While you were waiting for me in my office.”
“You knew I was here to say yes?”
I mean, I brought all my things with me, but still.
“I had some time to think about it. In the shower.”
“Well, that was… presumptuous.”
“Optimistic,” he corrects me.
I stare at him in a mild panic.
He stares back at me calmly, with that hot-as-hell commanding look in his eyes. The one that makes me want to lift my skirt.
In lieu of that, I start to move, climbing the stairs. I mean, I could at least go get my stuff, right? Then explain to him politely that there’s no ever-loving way I’m sleeping in his bed next to his glorious body and not licking him all over.
Does he seriously expect me to do that?
I follow him in silence to the second floor, where he gestures vaguely at a couple of doors we pass. “That’s an unused bedroom. And that’s another one. For kids, I guess.”
I smile nervously when he glances at me over his shoulder.
“This one’s ours.” He opens the grand double doors, and I follow him in.
A luxurious king bed in the middle of the room dominates the huge space, with a sitting area clustered around a fireplace off to the left side. Huge windows all along the back have layered drapes across them. It’s a lot like my room in the guest wing, just much bigger.
“It’s very nice.” I don’t even look at the bed, and I try not to think about how many gorgeous women he’s probably screwed on it. “I don’t see my bags.”
“They’re in the closet.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry your staff went to the trouble of bringing them up here. I can move them myself. I think it’s probably best if I stay in the guest wing, like I did before.”
Jameson stares at me.
Then he shuts the doors and says abruptly, “I’m no virgin, Megan. Are you telling me you are?”
“Uh… no.”
“It would make zero sense for my fiancée to sleep in the guest wing.”
“I mean, who would know?” I hedge nervously.
He studies me, maybe reading how tense I am. He seems very good at reading me, like I’m some smutty open book.
“This will go much more smoothly,” he says, “if my staff actually believes the engagement is real.”
I find myself looking at the neatly made bed. The corners of the covers are turned back. Both sides.
“I just didn’t think of it that way. This is a lot more than I thought I was signing on for.”
“What did you think?”
“I guess I didn’t really think about this part. When I pictured coming back here, I just pictured staying in the same room as before. And hanging out with you and Cole.”
“Cole is away for the next two weeks.”
“Right. But when he comes back.”
“Megan.”
I look at him.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re not safe here when your brother’s not around. I’m your fiancé now. We have an agreement. Any woman of mine is a woman I protect.”
Any response I might have to that gets jammed up in my throat.
Any woman of mine…
“Okay. It’s just… when you said we wouldn’t be having sex, I didn’t picture us sleeping together.”
His eyes darken a shade before he looks away. “No one will be in that bed but us. All they need to know is that we’re sharing the bed.”
I take a breath. He’s right, probably.
And I said yes to this engagement.
Am I afraid of him doing something out of line? No.
But am I afraid of what might happen if I sleep next to him?
Fuck, yes.
What if I do something stupid? Read his signals wrong?
Lose my shit and jump on him, and he turns me down?
What if I make him change his mind and kick me out?
I’ve never been in a situation like this, so vulnerable to a man I barely know. It feels intensely intimate just standing here in his room with him. I can’t imagine being in his bed while he sleeps next to me and I can’t touch him.
The first date I went on with Troy, he kissed me. The second date, he kissed me and then we made out. And the second time we made out, he tried to go much further than that.
It was me who’d held the brake firmly in place until I was ready to let go and plunge into my first sexual relationship.
And I have literally no other experience to go on.
I’ve never had the first date or first kiss or first make-out scenario with any other man. I’ve definitely never done anything as strange as share a bed with a man who’s drawn a no-sex line between us before we even touch.
I know sleeping next to him will blur the line for me. Just being near him blurs the line.
And he’s still waiting for my response. “I need you to be okay with this,” he says.
I’m not even sure how to respond to that. It’s more of a command than a question.
But maybe sleeping next to him won’t be as awkward as I fear it will be? He seems calm and collected.
“Okay,” I say softly. “Yes.”
“Let me show you the rest.”
He leads me through one of the two open archways on the wall to the right, both of which open into a single, massive walk-in closet. It’s almost as big as the bedroom.
I move through the room, my pulse thudding, every cell in my body hyperaware of Jameson’s nearness as he stands back, watching me.
It’s like a private boutique in here. There’s cleverly recessed lighting, built-in drawers and shelves, velvety ottomans for sitting on or draping clothing.
His on one side, hers on the other.
“Has this side always been empty?” I ask him. The woman’s side has nothing in it except my bags. He hasn’t mentioned much about his relationship history to me, but if I’m standing in some ex’s closet, I’d like to know.
He slips his hands into his pockets. “Yes, it has. I told you I’m not looking to get married. I’ve had girlfriends, but never a live-in girlfriend.” His eyes meet mine, and I look away.
I drift my fingers along the display case atop the island in the center of the room. The sleek glass top reveals velvet trays within for housing jewelry. It’s empty, too.
I circle the island, until I face the twin entrances into the bedroom; his and hers. Through his, there’s a clear view of the head of the bed.
And there are no doors to close for privacy.
Which means that if he was lying in the bed, he’d have a partial view into the closet.
The thought of him lying there, watching some former girlfriend get undressed, makes me slightly queasy.
Jealousy.
Which is weird since that imaginary woman isn’t here. She’s not his girlfriend anymore.
I’m not either.
“There are no doors,” I point out.
“We each have our own bathroom. Mine’s over there.” He tips his chin toward the far corner, at the back of his side of the closet, where there’s an open doorway. “Yours is through there.” He nods at the identical doorway at the back corner of my side.
“Can I go look?”
“Of course.”
I go through the doorway, which also has no door, and find a short hall to the left. It turns right, then left again, and opens into the large, airy bathroom. The top third of the walls have frosted windows letting in soft moonlight. As soon as I step onto the white tile, the lights come on, a soft, warm glow.
There’s a large glassed-in shower and a freestanding bathtub, and a sitting area.
Anyone could wander in from the bedroom, no doors to imply privacy, no sound made by footsteps at all. And watch whoever’s in that glass shower.
Maybe that’s the point.
Jameson has followed me into the room and watches me as I take it all in. Maybe he has a thing for watching?
My heart is beating so hard, I feel like he can see it.
I turn to him and try to sound calm. “You have something against doors?”
His tone remains neutral when he says, “If you need privacy, the toilet is through there.” He indicates the lone actual door in the far corner. “There’s enough room in there to get changed. And I won’t come in here. This is your space.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll let you get ready for bed. If there’s anything you need, just let me know. It should be fully stocked. And feel free to put away your things. I would’ve had Clara unpack for you, but I thought you’d prefer if I checked with you first.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll unpack myself.”
He nods. “I’ll be in bed.” He delivers those words in a low, soft voice, and heat flashes through my body.
I look away, feeling downright dizzy. “Good night.”
There’s the slightest pause. “Good night, Megan.”
He slips out.
Goose bumps spread across my skin in the wake of his voice, and I stare at the open doorway where he disappeared.
I exhale.
Shit.This man.
Have I ever met anyone so freaking magnetic in all my life?
Nope.
My life has been spent in Crooks Creek, so no wonder. But still. No offense to Cole and Troy; they both come from where I do, and they’re both attractive men. Hot men. I can admit that, even when one is my brother and the other hurt me immeasurably.
But Jameson Vance is a whole other conundrum.
It’s ridiculous how little I actually breathe around the man. And now I’ve agreed to sleep in his bed.
Brilliant.
Maybe I’ll die at the age of twenty-seven from lust-induced lack of oxygen.
I move around the bathroom, acquainting myself with the amenities. I poke my head into the room with the toilet, and he wasn’t kidding. It’s bigger than Nicole’s whole bathroom. Plenty of room to change in privacy.
When I go back into the walk-in closet, I stay tucked into my side, out of the line of sight from the bed. I open my bags and unpack my cosmetics, and put them in the bathroom. Then I return to my suitcase to find a fresh pair of panties and my nightshirt. While doing so, I unpack all my clothes, hanging a few things on hangers and tucking the rest into drawers.
It doesn’t take long.
In the bathroom, I turn on the shower. I wish I could close a door. But by the time the water is nice and warm, I’ve gotten over it.
He said he wouldn’t come in here, that he’d be in bed. I have to believe him if this whole arrangement is going to work.
I slip the straps of my sundress over my shoulders and slide the whole thing down. Then I unclasp my bra and peel it off, and slip off my panties. All the while, I watch myself in the full-length mirror on the wall.
Wondering if Jameson would like what he sees.
If he walked in, to watch me in the shower…
There’s nothing wrong with my body. Men’s eyes tell me so, without their words even having to.
But Jameson is so… powerful. Not only is he physically outstanding himself, he’s a wealthy man, and that gives him the opportunity to have his pick of women. According to Nicole, he’s been with some famous beauties.
It’s so hard to face the mirror and not just see Megan from Crooks Creek. I’ve only ever been loved by one man, a man who, in truth, didn’t actually love me. And that man did so many numbers on my self-esteem, I’m still trying to rewrite the script that he etched into my heart with his hurtful words.
In the end, he told me he wasn’t attracted to me anymore.
It would’ve hurt so much more if I hadn’t fallen so out of love with him by then, so out of trust, that I didn’t even know if I could believe him.
My gaze wanders down, to the soft flesh between my legs. It’s so strange to think of a new man looking at me there, touching me, when only Troy had ever done that.
What would Jameson’s touch feel like?
Would he be slow and careful? Fast and hungry? Would he be bossy, aggressive and alpha, taking what he wanted in a way that satisfied me so completely that I didn’t even care? Or would he be tender, seeking out all the ways to drive me wild, before he took his fill?
Maybe he’d be all those things, depending on the mood, the situation. And the woman. How attracted to her he was. How impatient he was to have her.
How much he wanted to please her.
I’m dying to touch myself just to pretend it’s him, exploring my body for the first time with his fingers…
Shit. Stop thinking about that.
Thinking about that, knowing Jameson is lying in his bed and I’m about to go lie in that bed with him, is making my core ache, and sucking all my attention to it.
God. I’m horny.
It’s been so damn long since anyone touched me there.
Besides, well, me.
I tie my hair up into a loose bun and force myself into the shower, turning the temperature down to a cooler setting when the penetrating warmth only makes me internally hotter, my pulse throbbing insistently in my clit. I wash quickly with the bodywash on offer, leaving my hair dry.
I keep glancing at the open doorway, checking to see if I’m being watched. But Jameson doesn’t appear.
When I finish in the shower, I dry off and slip into my fresh panties, then my nightshirt. I’ve never thought of it as sexy. It’s a comfort item, soft cotton, ending halfway down my thighs. But when I turn in front of the mirror now, my breasts are pretty jiggly through the thin fabric. My nipples stick out.
I’m still horny.
I turn sideways to my reflection. I cut the sleeves out long ago, and the enlarged armholes show some side boob. I never really thought about that before. I’ve only ever worn it to sleep in front of Troy, and now Nicole.
Well, fuck. I don’t want to be a tease.
Or worse, seem desperate, like I’m trying to seduce him or something.
Maybe he’ll be asleep by now anyway. And if he isn’t, I’ll just be careful to keep the shirt in place so a boob doesn’t pop out in his face.
I press my arms down at my sides and head into the bedroom.
As it turns out, Jameson is awake. He’s lying on the side of the bed closest to the walk-in, the small lamp on his night table glowing over him.
He’s on his back, the thin covers tucked up around his ribs, which means that his strong, gorgeous arms, his muscular, tattooed chest, and his ruddy-pink, lickable nipples are all bare.
He turns his head on his pillow to face me, and his eyes trace the jutting shape of my breasts through my shirt, his pupils big and dark in the dimly lit room. “Dirty,” he says, almost to himself.
I tug self-consciously at the hem of the nightshirt, which is actually an old band shirt, trying to cover more of me. “Yeah. They’re my favorite band.”
He watches as I round the bed to my side and peel back the covers, carefully, so as not to expose more of him than is already exposed. But I’m dying to know what he’s wearing under there.
“If only I’d known,” he says dryly. “I could’ve introduced you to Jesse on day one, won you over right there.”
I slip into the bed as he speaks, and now I’m trying to slide down under the covers without the boob on his side falling out. “What?”
“Jesse Mayes.” He nods at my shirt. “I know him.”
I drop my head on the pillow with a thud. My eyes go wide, the way I’ve seen Nicole’s do at the mention of something she wants badly. “You know heartthrob Jesse Mayes? Dirty’s lead guitarist and one of the sexiest men on planet Earth? Can I rethink this whole engagement?”
He half rolls his eyes.
“I’m kidding.” I kill the cartoon-cat eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Cole has introduced me to famous people.”
“Glad to know you won’t get too swept away,” he mutters, “when you find out he’s my neighbor.”
“Really?” Honestly, I’m intrigued. Who wouldn’t be? “On which side?”
“Not right next door. And hell if I’m telling you now.” He reaches to turn off the lamp and the covers slip farther down his muscled rib cage. Before I can really enjoy the view, the light goes out.
“Hmm. Too bad. I am a bit of a voyeur.”
Silence.
When he doesn’t respond, heat creeps up my face as I mentally kick myself. It sounded funny, innocent in my head, but the fact that it’s true—and maybe he can tell I meant it, even though it was a joke?—makes me deeply regret opening my mouth.
“Um. Did I mention I have no game?”
“You mentioned.” His voice is low and rough. If I’m not wrong, there’s a note of pain in it.
Am I making him uncomfortable?
Wait. Does talking about sex things make him uncomfortable?
Thinking back, it kinda seems so. Not that we’ve talked about much sex stuff.
Though maybe that was because he was uncomfortable…
“I was kidding,” I clarify.
“Okay.”
“I mean, I like to look at men. Attractive men. You know what I mean.”
“You don’t have to explain.” The pained note is still there.
“He’s attractive. It was a joke. I know he’s married.”
Silence.
But I just can’t keep my mouth shut.
“I guess that was bad form. Telling my new fiancé, on our first night in our shared bed, that his neighbor is attractive and I want to spy on him. You know, sexually.”
“It’s okay, Megan,” he grits out, which probably means Shut up, Megan.
Unfortunately, Megan isn’t so good at shutting up when she feels like she just put her foot in her mouth. “I’m not gonna spy on him.”
“You don’t know where he lives.”
“Yet.”
He groans quietly.
“It just didn’t occur to me that you might feel… bothered,” I offer.
Silence again.
“I mean, since we’re not even having sex. We don’t have a sexual relationship. You know. For now.”
More silence.
“But… I know I’m supposed to act like it’s real, in public. At least, in terms of that kind of thing.”
Just stop talking, Megan.
“Other guys, I mean. That’s the thing I was referring to.”
Stop digging this grave. You’re way too uncool to make it better.
Somehow, I seem to think I can.
“I’m not… I’m not looking at other guys.”
He sighs softly. “I didn’t think you were. Until you said it.”
Oh. Oops.
I can almost hear him thinking about it now.
I’m afraid to say anything else stupid, so I finally shut up.
“Megan?”
“Yes, Jameson?”
“Can we agree that checking out other guys in public is not cool? You’re with me. My fiancée. You’re mine. We’re newly engaged and other guys are off the menu. You’re in love with me, remember?”
“Right.” I swallow, because every word he just semigrowled at me is making saliva flood my mouth and something else flood my panties. “I’ll just look at you.”
He shifts, kinda growling low in his throat. It’s so sexy, I hold my breath to listen, savoring it.
“Good night, Megan.”
“Good night.”
I’m silent for maybe five seconds. But when I try to roll onto my side, my preferred sleeping position, my boob almost falls out of that damn gaping hole. What if he wakes up in the morning to find my boob out?
“You’re very intimidating,” I blurt in the dark. “How do I relax enough to fall asleep?”
“You’re very honest.” His words are underscored by a soft sigh.
“Is it too much?”
“No. It’s good.”
I’ve rolled to face him, and in the dim moonlight that slips in through a small gap in the curtains, I can see that he’s facing me, too.
He runs a hand over his face, and I can feel his inaudible sigh. “Look, I’d never want to hurt someone Cole loves. And he loves you. I’d be good to you for his sake, even if I didn’t like you.”
I understand what he’s saying. He’s trying to reassure me that I don’t need to worry so much. That I can relax here, because I’m safe with him.
And I try. I really do.
But it’s not so much him I’m worried about.
Cole’s best friend.
Business deal.
You’re not going to grope him. Or flash your boob.
Just go to sleep.
“Shit.” He swears under his breath. “That sounded really bad. I didn’t mean to imply…” He fades out.
“Imply what?”
I hear him breathing softly in the dark, and it may be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Is he feeling the same tension I am, lying here so close?
“I like you,” he breathes.
“I like you, too,” I say instantly.
No game.
Silence stretches between us.
“Um… so, if you change your mind about that thing you said… about us not having sex, for now…” I take a breath, letting that dangle in the dark between us for a long moment. In case he feels the need to interject.
He doesn’t.
“That’s okay with me,” I continue. “I just want you to know that. I guess what I’m saying is I’d like first dibs, please. If you decide to have sex with someone. You know, me or someone else. You said we’d discuss it first. So, I’m discussing it. And I’d like first dibs.” I take another breath and let the words flow that I just need to put out there. “You can touch me if you decide you want to.”
He doesn’t respond right away.
Then he swears again.
“Jesus Christ, Megan. You really need to stop saying exactly what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t. I was thinking much more than that.”
“Holy fuck.” He mutters the words under his breath and rolls onto his back, then tosses his arms over his eyes and lies still.
I blink at him in the dark, watching his chest slowly rise and fall. I can still hear him breathing.
I heard the strain in his voice, the way it changed, taking on that pained note again. This is uncomfortable for him, too. He’s trying to be a gentleman for Cole. I’m certain of it.
It’s not that he doesn’t want me.
He’s just not going to fuck his best friend’s sister the first chance he gets.
Knowing it just makes me like him more.
I try not to say that, so instead, I say, “This whole fake engagement might turn out to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done. You realize that, right?”
He huffs out a soft laugh. “Yeah. I’m starting to get that.” He adds roughly, “You still in?”
I can hear the grudging smile on his voice.
“Yes.” I sigh sleepily, finally relaxing as a strange, nameless current of warmth spreads through my body. “I’m in.”
I realize as I drift into sleep that it’s happiness.