21. Hadley
Chapter twenty-one
Hadley
“Can we address the elephant in the room?” Weston asks as we’re cleaning up the Chinese food we ordered for dinner.
Here we go. I wondered when this was going to come up.
I whirl around, hands on my hips. “What elephant?” I glance around the room. “I don’t see one.”
He raises an eyebrow, matching my stance from across the room. “Don’t play dumb, Hadley Jane.”
I’m not playing dumb. I’m playing coward.
“Perhaps you can enlighten me about this elephant, Weston Robert.”
“Not my middle name, Hadley Jane. The kiss.” His tone softens. “I want to talk about the kiss the other day. And our kisses today.”
“They were fine as far as kisses go.” I shift back on my heels. If she were here, Callie would be yelling at me to just talk to him. To be honest with him. “There’s not a whole lot to talk about.”
He takes a tentative step closer to me. I step back, needing to keep distance between us.
“Is that so? You’re telling me it didn’t make you feel anything?” He moves closer to me, and I cross my arms and back up, hitting the counter. “Not a thing?”
I shake my head. “No, Weston Maxwell. Nothing. You’re a pretty decent kisser though. A for effort.” One ticket for the denial train please.
His gaze darkens as he crowds me against the counter.
“Are you sure, tornado?” he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling against my neck, and I force myself to not react to his proximity.
“Me being this close to you isn’t doing anything to you?
Because I swear I saw you shiver when we kissed earlier.
” He runs a finger over one of my arms, and I hate my body for betraying me with goosebumps everywhere he touches.
He leans closer to me, tracing his nose along the shell of my ear, and I press my lips together to keep from whimpering.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about it,” he says so quietly that I think I’m imagining it. “And I think you enjoyed it too. I saw the way you reacted. I was there. You want me.”
“Fuck you, Weston Reynolds,” I spit out, although there’s not a lot of heat behind it.
As soon as the words come out, I realize my mistake because his eyes darken.
“We can arrange that.”
“You can’t handle me.”
This I can do. Bantering with him is safe.
“I bet I could.”
“Bullshit,” I tell him, even though my vagina is begging me to take him up on it, to pull the emergency break, and jump off the denial train.
I haven’t had sex in a while, and toys are fun and all, but it’s not the same as a real dick. Especially when said dick belongs to a man who I expect knows how to use it. Stop thinking about Weston’s dick.
He holds his hands out. “All you have to do is ask, Hadley Jane. Happy to show you my moves.” He bounces his eyebrows.
“I can take care of myself, but thanks.”
That’s the safe thing to say, right?
We watch each other for what feels like forever. Finally, he breaks eye contact and steps back, and I immediately miss the heat of his body. Yep, I’m screwed.
“Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you need anything.”
With that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen, and I’m left staring after him, my panties a wreck. Why does sparring with him have this effect on me? Better yet, why couldn’t I just admit that I did enjoy our kisses, that I would like more of them, and that I would like him to fuck me?
Sighing, I grab a glass from the drainboard, fill it up with water, and take a few gulps, hoping it will cool me off.
Eventually, I force myself to leave the kitchen and make my way to my room.
Even though all I want to do is go to his bedroom and knock on the door. Ask him to show me what he’s got.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
While I’m sure it would be worthwhile tonight, it would eventually lead to heartbreak.
Because while we might have fun in bed, no, I know we would, it would never work out between us.
Eventually, he’d realize he could do a whole lot better than me and move on to someone else, leaving me heartbroken.
Or he’d try to fix me. Or change me, the way Henry did.
Hell, the way so many of my exes have tried to do.
And if there’s one thing I refuse to put up with, it’s a guy who thinks I need fixing.
I pace my room for a few minutes before deciding to take a shower. Maybe that will help cool me off and force me to stop thinking about Weston.
I grab a change of clothes and slowly open the door, relieved to not find him standing outside waiting for me.
Not that I actually thought he would be, because he’s a man of his word, and if he said he was going to let me come to him, I have no doubt in my mind that’s what he’ll do.
I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower, strip, and step under the hot water.
As I rinse my hair a few minutes later, I can’t stop thinking about kissing him earlier. About how he makes me feel. I bet it would be amazing having his hands on me. Touching me. Pleasuring me.
“I need to invest in a waterproof vibrator,” I mutter, closing my eyes.
I trail my hand over my body, tweaking my nipple before dropping between my legs, where I circle my clit with my thumb, imagining it’s his hand.
My body is already so on edge, I know I won’t last long. I slide a finger inside myself, using my other hand to pinch my nipple. I add a second finger, and it only takes a few seconds before I’m coming. I imagine his signature smirk as he watches me fall apart because of him.
The daydream changes, and now he’s on his knees in front of me, staring up at me. I shiver even though the water is warm, because to have Weston on his knees, looking half like he’s going to devour me alive and half like he’s going to worship me, is a heady feeling.
One that’s not real.
I blink open my eyes, turn the temperature down, and rinse off under cold water. My body is still wound tight even after an orgasm.
I shut off the water and grab my towel as I step out of the shower. Guess I have a date with my vibrator later tonight.
Who knew this would be the issue with living with Weston? The more time I spend as his fake fiancée, the more I question my sanity—and my resolve.
Maybe I should ask him to fuck me.
At least I wouldn’t be feeling this way.
Maybe we could get it out of our systems and move on.