Page 48 of Fake Wife
No one has shoveled so much praise my way except Eleanor, and yet the crazy woman would also throw in a playful insult for good measure. Always with a cracked smile, teasing glint in her eye that let me know she was only doing it because she knows I’ve never heard much praise and it still makes me uncomfortable.
God, I loved that woman. The entire week I’ve spent in Portland, the only place I’ve wanted to be is right back here.
In her house—my house—I’m home, and fuck me for thinking Teagan wants the same crap as I do.
Perhaps giving her a better tour tomorrow will help change her opinion.
The house is silent as I enter and lock the front door behind me. We’re out in the middle of nowhere with a secured gate at the front of the drive, but I still always close it up at night.
Teagan has left lights on, small lamps scattered throughout the house showing me she didn’t go straight to her room when she came inside. I flick them off and head upstairs, quiet so as not to wake her or startle her if she’s awake.
I hesitate outside her door, my palm on it, and drop my head, closing my eyes.
Hell. I want this woman. She’s sweet and kind. She’s all the good wrapped up in a beautiful package that Eleanor would want in a woman for me.
A quiet, breathy sound hits my ears and I jerk my head up, looking down the hall, but I realize it’s coming from inside Teagan’s bedroom.
Like the creeper I’m quickly becoming, I listen, wait for another sound. Perhaps it’s a muffled sound while she sleeps, but then another one comes, quicker than the last, and my dick takes notice.
Holy shit. She’s not…
“Oh God.”
Her voice. Tight. Panting.
She is. She’s masturbating, and I turn to stone as I fucking listen, my hand now on the doorknob.
Is she thinking of me? How hot it was when I kissed her and almost lost my mind with wanting her so freaking badly?
Her chants continue, mewled sounds that force me to adjust myself, and all the work I did to settle my dick down is forgotten as it goes into full speed, steamrolling right ahead. Jesus. Just listening to her get herself off is making me hotter and harder than any woman I’ve been with in at least a year.
This woman. She does it for me.
And I can only stand outside, waiting for her to finish, wishing she had her small hands on me instead of her own pussy.
I wait for moments after the sounds stop, my need to get off warring with my need to see her. To apologize.
In the end, I quietly walk to my room and leave the door open so the lock doesn’t catch so Teagan doesn’t hear me and realize what I’ve just done.
But damn it all to hell.
It has to be the hottest thing I’ve heard in my lifetime, and when I’m safely inside my bathroom, I fling on the hot water, step inside the shower, and take care of myself, vowing it’s the last time she’ll do that shit in secret.
Because she’s fucking marrying me, for crying out loud, and if we’ve barely been able to last a week without almost having sex, there’s no way we’re going to last two full years.
Chapter 17
Teagan
I wake up after a fitful night of sleep. When I rushed back into the house last night, I paced and paced, until I ended up on the back deck, letting the waves crashing against the rocky shore calm my racing and embarrassed heart.
There aren’t many things I’ve done in my life to regret, but rear-ending Corbin is quickly becoming one of them. Some days I look in the mirror and wonder how I’ve become a woman who would sell herself for the future she’s dreamed of, and I know my parents and my grandma would be so disappointed in me.
And yet all of that is just on paper.
I know what I feel inside, and every time I’m around Corbin that sensation grows and strengthens.
I like him. I adore the man I saw in the workshop last night, the way he talked, the dreams he wove of a future he so desperately wants someday.
