Chapter 14 #3
“People,” he answers simply, shrugging. “Remembering to tell somebody where I’m going or when I’ll be back.
Living with someone.” He exhales roughly, dragging a hand through his wet hair again.
“I’ve spent most of my life alone.” There’s no self-pity in it, it just comes out like a statement of fact.
“I know that’s not an excuse,” he continues, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges.
“I just… I don’t think about those things naturally. ”
I worry my bottom lip with my teeth while something in my chest softens despite myself. He leans one shoulder lightly against the doorframe, gray eyes fixed on mine. “But I should be thinking about them,” he says. “About you.”
The heat that rushes through me at those words is immediate and impossible to control. When a muscle flexes in his chest as he shifts on his feet, a warm, dizzy sort of awareness unfurls low in my stomach.
Hold onto this rush, something inside of me begs. Don’t let it disappear.
“I know this whole thing started for the wrong reasons,” he says quietly. “And I know I’ve handled parts of it badly. But I don’t want you feeling like you don’t have a place here.” His jaw tightens. “Because you do.”
He studies me for another second before shaking his head softly, almost frustrated with himself.
“I messed this up,” he mutters. “I thought giving you space was the right thing to do, and somehow, I made it worse. I’m sorry, Lottie. I want to do better with you.”
The vulnerability in that admission catches me off guard. This man who seems to take pride in being unreadable and totally in control sounds almost uncertain right now. It’s disarming.
Wes pins his gaze on me, his gray eyes clear and unguarded.
I study him quietly—the tightness in his jaw, the crease between his brows, the way his damp, dark lashes frame those stormy gray eyes as they stay fixed on me with an openness I haven’t seen from him before.
He’s not walled off or detached in the way he usually is, not hiding behind that calm, measured expression he wears so easily.
His apology is what undoes me. For all the intimidating things about Wes Winters— the sharp suits, the quiet intensity, the way people automatically move aside when he walks into a room—there’s something unexpectedly soft underneath it all. Something most people never get to see.
“You don’t have to be perfect at this,” I say softly. “I think I just needed to feel like you remembered that I exist in your home now too.”
His eyes hold mine. “I do,” he says. “I just haven’t been very good at showing it.”
I let out a slow breath, my shoulders loosening slightly. “Okay. Apology accepted.”
Relief flashes across his face, and then he surprises me by closing the space between us and pulling me against his bare chest for a hug. A startled squeak escapes me at the cold dampness of his skin against mine.
“Oh my God—you’re freezing,” I manage as he tucks me into his chest.
A low laugh rumbles softly against my cheek, but despite the chill, despite the fact that his hair is still wet, and water is cooling my arms where he touches me, it feels good.
If time stood still and I could stay standing just like this all night, I wouldn’t complain.
I lightly brush my palm over his chest and briefly wonder if he’d notice if I licked him there.
Just a taste. Wes slides a hand to the back of my neck, his fingers threading lightly into my hair, and I inhale a fortifying breath.
“I am really sorry, Lottie,” he says quietly and the sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache.
“You’re already forgiven, remember?” I breathe him in for one selfish second before I push lightly against him, and he lets me go.
It’s not that I want to end the moment, but I just don’t trust myself being this close to him.
Because the air between us is different now, like something shifted while he was holding me.
It’s charged. My eyes track a bead of water as it falls along the sharp lines of his chest, sliding down his stomach before disappearing beneath the waistband of his swimsuit. My gaze dips before I can stop it.
His eyes darken instantly before a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he catches me looking. Heat climbs all the way up my neck.
“Sorry,” I murmur, feeling totally mortified and also aware that I am in serious trouble.
Heat floods my entire body as I shamelessly stare at him, every rational thought in my brain struggling to reassemble itself.
This is Wes. All of this is fake. He isn’t supposed to affect me like this.
I should be concerned about the wolfish smirk on his face, but I like looking at him too much to care at this point.
“For?” he asks.
“Wes—”
A quiet laugh rumbles from him. Those hooded eyes and the way his gaze drags slowly over my face before settling back on my mouth. My pulse stumbles hard enough that I actually take a small step backward.
“Lottie.” He says my name like a warning.
I swallow hard. “Hmm?”
His jaw flexes as his eyes hold mine. “Don’t look at me like that unless you want to be pushed up against the nearest wall.”
The air crackles between us.
I wish I had the nerve to dare my fake husband to make the first move, but I don’t. Instead, I lead the way inside with a much better idea.