Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I close the remaining distance without thinking, stopping just short of her. Close enough for her faint, beachy scent to inundate my senses.
It’s equal parts heaven and hell.
I glance down at the papers clutched in her hand. “The lines you were running sounded pretty intense for a reality show. I didn’t realize it was so scripted.”
A shadow passes over her expression. “They can be, to a certain degree.”
“Whatever you were reciting didn’t sound like a scene from your show.”
She shrugs. “You only heard a few seconds of it.”
“I’d like to hear more,” I admit.
Disappointment fills me when she remains silent.
With a cock of my head, I search her eyes. “You don’t have to hide what you’re doing from me.”
Her chin lifts a fraction. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Yeah, she is, and that knowledge crawls beneath my skin. What I want is to know her secrets along with the other parts she keeps tucked away where no one can touch them.
Cheyenne shifts, and her sweater rises again, exposing that narrow band of sun-kissed flesh. That’s all it takes for my gaze to drop. After a moment or two, I realize I’m staring, and clear my throat, dragging my attention back to her face.
“You sure like wearing those midriff-baring shirts, don’t you?”
She smirks. “Yup. I have a closet full of them back home. Luckily for you, I brought a bunch with me.”
“Great.”
This woman is seriously trying to kill me. One midriff-baring top at a time.
In a surprising twist, she steps closer. “What’s wrong? You don’t like them?”
Now that we’re standing inches apart, I can see the faint flush staining her cheeks along with the steady rise and fall of her chest. The sunshine-beachy scent that slyly wraps around me is distracting as hell. All I want to do is lean in and suck in a lungful of her. It feels like I’ve been starving for her all damn day.
“Did I say that?” My voice comes out low and gruff.
Her gaze drops to my mouth for half a second before snapping back up again. The shift is subtle, but I still catch it. And fuck if that doesn’t send something hot and reckless spiraling through me.
Without thinking, I reach up and brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. My knuckles graze her jawline before sliding along the curve of her cheek. She stills, and her breath catches. That tiny sound lands low in my gut as her gaze stays fastened to mine. For one careless moment, I’m tempted to turn my hand and cup her cheek. All I’d have to do is tilt her face toward me and—
I drop my arm.
Control.
I’ve always prided myself on having it in spades. On being the guy who walks away first. On not getting tangled up in something that can’t be undone or will only lead to future problems.
This woman has been here for less than forty-eight hours and she’s already setting fire to every ounce of my self-control.
I almost kissed her. Another second and I would’ve actually done it.
“I’m, ah, going to take a shower.”
Her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her expression. “Don’t you guys do that at the arena before you leave?”
Well, hell.
“Yeah, but I need another,” I mutter.
As I head down the hall, I can practically feel the heat of her gaze burning a hole through my back. If I stay here another minute, I’m going to forget every self-imposed rule. And that can’t be allowed to happen. Not when I’m supposed to be helping her out of a bad situation with an ex.
There’s no need to complicate matters any further than they already are.
I shut the bathroom door behind me and brace my hands on the marble counter before staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Get it together, McNichols.
All you are is a fake boyfriend. She’s here for a week. Maybe two. Then it’s over. She’ll go back to her life in LA, and you’ll go back to yours.
I repeat the words like a mantra, hoping that if I think them enough times, they’ll finally sink in.
Temporary.
That’s all this is.
Then I turn on the shower and let the water pound down on me, attempting to wash away something that has absolutely nothing to do with practice.
13
Cheyenne
We’re halfway through the movie when it occurs to me that I have no idea what’s happening on screen. There’s an explosion of some sort, and one of the characters is crying. Dramatic music plays in the background, but I couldn’t tell you why. I’ve completely lost track of the plot.
The only thing I’m aware of is Knox sitting beside me and the solid warmth of his thigh as it brushes against mine every time one of us shifts. Or the way his arm is stretched along the back of the couch. Even though he’s not quite touching me, it’s close enough to feel the heat of him near my shoulder.