Page 72 of Fake Wife
He grins, and it’s more beautiful than ever.
I love you. I love you.
Will I ever forget the first time he said it to me? I hope not.
“Where are you going?”
I climb into his lap, drape my arms over his shoulders, and play with the hair at the back of his head, uncaring he’s in a suit, or that I could wrinkle it.
I’m naked. It’s probably all he sees. By the glint in his eye as his gaze drops and rises, I’m not that far off.
“I have a meeting with my lawyer today, ironing out all the details of a few things.”
I don’t ask what things. Talking about his dad or his position at Lane Holdings is not how I’m starting the day.
“Okay. Will you be home late? I can try to make dinner again.”
“I’d love that.”I love you.I shiver and he kisses me, my cheeks heating.
The words burn the tip of my tongue but don’t release. They’re stuck there, and I can’t speak them as much as I want to. To have him know.
But he does know, because his hand cups my cheek, thumb brushes against my jaw. He kisses me gently, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth as if he’s taking the words from me.
“Corbin.” I breathe his name on a whisper and a prayer and a hope for forever.
“I know, angel.”
He kisses me softly again, tongue tips tasting and not delving deeper. Then he lifts me off him and stands, brushing down his tie and smoothing down his suit. “What are you doing today?”
I stretch out on my back, arms above my head, groaning. I ache deliciously everywhere. I’m naked and unashamed.
His dick is thick against his pants and unbuttoned suit coat.
I grin. “I can help you with that.”
“I know you can.” He adjusts himself, smiling.
Our banter is perfect. Too perfect. The bad always chases the good and we are too good to be true.
God, I need coffee. A pick-me-up to shake off the morose mood.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, tossing the blanket over me. I pull it to my shoulders and sit up on the bed. “Are you doing anything today?”
“College application, probably. I have to get that in. And your mom emailed me a bunch of flower options.”
The talk of the wedding sours my mood. Last night when Corbin said nothing between us has to change, I wanted to tell him he was wrong. I want everything to change. I want the real wedding to a man I love, not the fake one due to a deal and a need. I want the proposal on one knee and promises of a beautiful future, not a vintage ring politely handed out.
But I have everything else I want. Right?
This is okay. He loves me and I love him. We’ll make it work through the fakeness of the rest.
“Okay. Call me if you need anything. And dinner sounds great.”
“Bye.” I wave lamely, Corbin grinning and chuckling at my reaction.
He leans over the bed and kisses my forehead. “Go back to sleep if you’re tired.”
More sleep sounds good. So does getting out of his condo for the day. “I might call Caitlin.”
