I shook my head.
He took my chin, kissed me hard, then slapped me on the ass. “Get back to work, woman. Let your man cook for you.”
I nodded and wondered what he saw in my eyes when I looked up at him. Could he see the truth? I thought I couldn’t love him more before we were thrown together like this, but I’d been wrong—I was so gone for this man, it was terrifying. I’d tried really freaking hard not to let myself fall for him, but I had. It was impossible not to.
“Thanks,” I whispered, then lifted on my toes and took another kiss, this one soft and sweet.
He smiled against my lips. “Anything for you, Libs,” he said huskily. Then stepped back and tugged off his sweater, revealing a black thermal.
Okay, so we were in play.
I went back to the table, and it was hard to look away from him and get back to work as he moved around the kitchen, but I forced myself to do it. This was my future, this script, my life back in the city. Even if I had changed my mind, even if I never wanted to leave here, I couldn’t stay, because Tucker would never forgive me for this deception. He’d be humiliated, angry, hurt. The time to own up was the minute I walked off that plane and recognized him.
I’d chosen not to. I chose to live out my own fantasy.
Any way you looked at it, what I’d done was totally messed up.
Shoving those thoughts from my mind, I ignored the guilt and regret and got back to work.
Tucker
Slinging the towel around my hips, I stepped out of the shower. After dinner, I’d left Libby…fuck, Ruth, working on her script. She’d been so excited. The way she’d lit up when she told me her news was branded on my fucking brain. Quickly drying off, I rubbed the towel over my hair. Shit was getting fucking complicated.
After I’d put on that black shirt without thinking several days ago, and we’d fucked on the couch—the way she’d pulled me into that scene, the way I’d reacted to the things she’d said—something had changed. The lines were blurred somehow. Reality and fantasy were mingling, and I was starting to have trouble separating the two.
I wanted this woman twenty-four seven, which was why I’d forced myself to leave the house today. I’d fucked her multiple times a day since she’d gotten here. She seemed to want it, but then she was paid to make me think that, right? And I was getting—who the fuck was I kidding, I already was addicted to her, and not just when she was playing Libby. It had all become too goddamn intense. My head was all over the place. Honestly, the woman downstairs had me fucking mesmerized, and when she played Libby, it was too real, or at least how I’d always imagined things with Libs would be if she were here with me.
So yeah, I’d left this morning, even though I already had more than enough wood to last the winter and halfway through the next, because I was feeling things for this girl that I shouldn’t. There was something almost…familiar about her, even when she was out of character. She made me feel like I could totally be myself, and I was terrified that when she left in a week’s time, I wouldn’t fucking recover from it.
I shoved my fingers through my hair. I needed to get this thing back on track. I had to stop thinking like this and remember why she was here. Ruth was being paid to fuck me. She was an escort, and an actor, and that look in her eyes that made my heart pound and my fucking palms sweat was just an act as well, all part of the role she was playing. She wasn’t falling for me, there would be no happily ever after for us—because she wasn’t Libby.
Ruth was here for me, to make all my dirty fucking dreams and deepest fantasies come true.
It didn’t matter how I’d feel after she left. I’d worry about that when it happened. For now, while I had her here, I was going to make the most of it.
Tossing my towel in the laundry basket, I strode into my room and tugged on a pair of black track pants. I’d had a bit of a wobble the last few days, that’s all, but I was solid now. I was good, and I wanted to play.
The fire was roaring downstairs, so I didn’t bother with a shirt, and by the time I jogged downstairs and hit the living room, I was back in the fantasy and hard as fuck for my little wife.
Being away from her all day, after fucking her so often, had been torture, but then it had been totally self-inflicted. I’d wasted precious time.
When I walked into the living room, I almost fell over my own fucking feet. She was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, her reading glasses, which I’d seen for the first time today when I walked into the kitchen, still perched on her nose while she flicked through one of the books from my shelf. Christ, her lips were darker, puffy from her biting them while she’d been focused on her work.
She glanced up and smiled at me, then her gaze immediately slid down my bare chest and landed on my dick that was tenting the front of my track pants, and her lips parted.
I said nothing as I strode across the living room and sat in my recliner.
“You’ve been working hard all day. Feel better after a nice shower?” she asked, turning to fully face me.
“Would’ve been better if you’d joined me.” My voice sounded deeper, rougher from how much I wanted her, and I didn’t even try to hide it, there was no reason to.
“All you had to do was ask and I would’ve come and scrubbed your back,” she said, that cute, sexy smile curving her pretty lips.
I rested a hand on my stomach, and her gaze was drawn to the movement. I slid my palm up and down my abs. She didn’t move, watching, waiting. She may be doing this for the money, but there was no missing the way she was breathing faster or the little tremor that moved through her sweet, curvy body.
Hooking my hand in the waistband of my pants, I pushed them down and my cock sprung free. I hooked the elastic under my balls, and my little wife sucked in a breath. My cock was like a hot steel rod against my stomach. Fuck, I ached for some attention from this woman.
I crooked my finger at her. “Come here, Libby, it’s about time you looked after your husband.”
