Chapter 18
18
ROWENA
This weekend is proving harder than I thought. First, there was the “only one bed with the 1,000 thread count sheets and romantic ocean view” situation. Which, if I weren’t wearing blindfolds, I should’ve expected. Who would put an expecting couple in a room with two beds? No one.
Then there was the sight of Adrian in swimwear, his golden gladiator body on full display and missing only a thorough oiling to make all my Spartacus fantasies come true. Miles and miles of flat muscles and sculpted abs that could be used to grate cheese—and that I don’t seem able to stop ogling.
Hello? Weekend at the beach house. I should’ve seen the partial nudity coming, too.
But I was unprepared for the wolfish way Adrian stared at me as I emerged from the bathroom in my bikini. He seemed particularly taken with my boobs specifically, which, admittedly, have never looked better—if only they didn’t feel this achy. His heated gaze on me made me almost burst apart at the seams. I’m working as hard at keeping it together as my poor biking bra is struggling to keep my grown-out-of-size breasts contained. In short, there’s too much skin on display on both sides.
Then there’s the small matter of how much bare skin is currently pressed against my back or draped around my waist.
I’m not sure if Adrian has taken his method acting very seriously or what else, but as I lean back into his chest and listen to his deep voice narrate the concocted story of how he proposed, can I say that I don’t care? That I’m just content being here for the moment, not looking too closely at the whys or hows.
My attention is evenly split. Half of it is trained on what he’s saying and the other part on the solidity of him behind me.
“It was a perfect summer evening, with a sky full of stars and a gentle breeze blowing into the city from the ocean…”
I lean my head back against his shoulder as he continues with our rehearsed speech. “The only problem was, we were both too busy puking our guts out from food poisoning to enjoy any of it!”
I can’t hold back a grin. Genius, really, the way we mixed the mortifying true story of how we met, both retching in a public bathroom, with our fake proposal tale.
“There we were, sick as dogs,” Adrian continues, “barely able to lift our heads from the toilet. And I just looked over at her and thought, there’s no one else in the world I’d rather be violently ill with. So, I asked her to marry me, right then and there with no ring to show and in the least romantic place.”
I smile because he did propose in a bathroom after all.
It’s an act, I remind myself. No matter how tantalizingly real the heat of Adrian’s skin is against my back, the way his arms engulf me. The rumble of his voice against my back.
I glance at Dominic, Adrian’s septuagenarian boss. He’s guffawing merrily, taken in by our little charade. If he only knew the truth…
Do I know the truth? I seem to keep forgetting. As Adrian’s fingers absently trace circles on my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake, it’s a struggle to keep my breathing steady, to remember this is all for show. But with every passing minute, every casual caress and adoring glance, the lines between pretense and reality blur further.
Adrian goes on, his voice animated with mock excitement. “By the next morning, I was feeling right as rain. But she, my poor darling,” he squeezes me affectionately, “she was still green around the gills. So we went to the doctor, only to discover her illness had nothing to do with bad shellfish.”
I widen my eyes in feigned shock, playing along. “That’s right. Imagine our surprise when the doctor announced I was pregnant!” I pat my flat stomach for effect.
Dominic lets out a hearty chortle. “Well now, I guess this isn’t a shotgun wedding after all!”
Though he means it in jest, Dominic’s comment serves as an implicit reminder. This weekend is a job interview for Adrian, and our relationship is part of the test. I’m acutely aware that how we portray ourselves as a couple could make or break his chances at this promotion.
Gazing up at Adrian with what I hope passes for unadulterated adoration, I turn the sappiness meter up a notch. “Even if you had proposed after we found out about the baby, I would’ve never doubted your love for a second.” I bat my lashes for good measure, praying I don’t look as ridiculous as I feel. “I know you’re all in.”
Adrian looks down at me, his eyes smoldering with an intensity I haven’t seen before. He’s looking at me as if seeing me for the first time, and it sends a jolt through my system. His voice drops to a soft, intimate pitch that trips my insides into a little dance. “Absolutely all in,” he confirms, tilting my chin up so that our mouths are level.
There’s a moment there, a beat in time where everything else fades away and it’s just the two of us, lost in this risky game of pretend. I recognize the question in his eyes, the silent inquiry if this—what we’re doing, what we’re pretending to feel—is still okay.
Before I can make my mind up, Adrian cups my cheek, his palm warm and slightly rough against my skin. Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses me, his lips soft yet demanding.
The world explodes with sensation, a blast of colors bursting behind my eyelids.
It’s just a chaste peck, a brief meeting of lips, but it leaves me wanting so much more. My pulse pounds in my ears, my skin sizzles as if I’ve been hit by lightning and the current is still discharging all over my body.
Adrian pulls back, his dark eyes unsettling in a way I can’t quite define.
Is it just acting on his part, or did he feel a spark too? The same overwhelming need for more?
I lick my lips, tasting him there and it doesn’t help to gather my scattered thoughts.
“Woo-hoo guys, get a room!” Ella hoots. “There are minors around.”
We spring further apart and Preston’s wife asks, “When’s the wedding?”
With my mind still reeling from Adrian’s kiss—the searing warmth of his lips lingering on mine—I can’t seem to form words. I just blink dazedly at Ella, my cheeks burning.
“We haven’t picked a date yet.” Adrian’s breath tickles my ear as he replies. “Still working out the details. ”
Ella snaps her fingers. “You must have an engagement party.”
My stomach feels hot and uneasy. “Oh, I don’t know… I’ve only just gotten past the morning sickness. I haven’t had the energy to do much of anything lately.”
“Nonsense, it’ll be no trouble at all. I’ll give you the contact of my fabulous event planner, Sophie. She’ll take care of everything—you won’t have to lift a finger!” Ella beams at me expectantly.
I glance back at Adrian uncertainly. He nods, dark eyes gleaming with reassurance.
I turn to Ella and muster a smile. “Well, I guess… looks like we’re having an engagement party!”
“Marvelous! I’ll call Sophie first thing Monday when we get back to the city.” Ella claps her hands gleefully.
When the sun begins to dip behind the trees, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of orange and pink, Dominic stands and stretches.
“Alright everyone, time to head in and change for dinner,” he announces.
As we gather our things, I’m dizzy with the events of the afternoon—the surprising twists of this fake engagement… and the very real sparks igniting between me and Adrian. We walk back into our room and there it is, the made-for-sex bed ready to mock me. It’s only two nights, I tell myself, I can do it.