Page 18 of August

It’s for the best.

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August woke from a fitful sleep and glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 5:23 a.m. He stifled a groan and combed his fingers through his hair. His cock hurt with every movement. The traitorous appendage had kept him up all night.

Or rather, Gigi had.

Last night he’d taken his newfound cowardly ways to a whole new level and pretended he was sleeping. If the guys at Backcountry Protection Services knew what a loser he was, he’d never live it down. Not that he talked about his sex life with them, and he sure as hell wouldn’t talk about his lack of a sex life either, but he’d definitely get a ribbing if anyone found out he’d evened out his breath so she’d go to sleep.

He regretted it. Royally. He let his gaze roam over her face. She’d turned away from him shortly after getting into bed, but at some point she’d ended up facing him. Her lips were pouty and pressed together gently. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her hand pillowed her cheek.

A few times during the night her fingers had skimmed his shoulder or side, as if she were unconsciously making sure he was there. Once, he’d squeezed her hand, and part of him had hoped she’d wake up. That she’d slide close to him and he could do what he’d been wanting to do ever since he left on that damn mission two years ago—kiss her.

And tell her he was sorry.

He wished he’d told her to wait for him while he finished his mission, that he’d see her when he got back and they could figure things out. But at the time, he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around falling for a woman so fast and hard.

A woman who still held his beating heart in her delicate palm.

Swallowing the agony in his throat, he reached over and brushed her hair from her temple. So pretty. Jesus. She inhaled a shaky breath, and for a second he thought she’d catch him staring at her and he could stop pretending that he didn’t still want her. That their history didn’t kill him every fucking second.

Instead, she sighed and melted deeper into her pillow. Once again, he wished he’d talked to her last night. Or done anything but fake sleep.

He’d only done it to protect her. And maybe to make things easier on himself too. Gigi was a dangerous one to get caught up with. To her, he hadn’t been worth the wait. And she hadn’t wasted any time meeting her ex-fiancé, Todd, and moving in with him and getting engaged.

Todd had turned out to be a scumbag, but he’d been a wealthy sonofabitch. Not that Gigi was the gold-digging type. Still, August’s bank account was probably a couple of figures smaller than Todd’s.

Well, not now that Todd’s assets had been seized.

Getting out of bed, he cast Gigi a glance. Soon she’d be with her sister and wouldn’t need his support.

He went to the bathroom, showered and brushed his teeth, then put on jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. When he returned to the bedroom, he found that Gigi hadn’t moved beneath the pile of blankets. August felt a tug in his chest. Unable to resist, he walked to the bed. A line creased the smooth skin of Gigi’s forehead. Whatever she was dreaming about seemed to be causing her distress. He was quickly reminded of why the hell they were in this hotel the first place. “Gigi,” he said softly.

The channel in her brow deepened.

“Honey—” Shit. The endearment had slipped from his lips like ice cream from a kid’s cone. He cleared his throat. “Hey, we’ve gotta go.”

She inhaled deeply as her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze landed on the empty spot next to her in the bed then climbed up his body to meet his face.

“Morning, sunshine.” He couldn’t have stopped the smile tipping up his lips if he’d tried. She looked so cute and cozy it took everything in him not to crawl back into bed with her and do all the things he hadn’t allowed himself to do last night.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “What time is it?”

“Almost six. If you want to shower, I suggest you get in there now because I’m leaving in fifteen minutes.”

She groaned, and her arm flopped to the pillow. “You’re so mean.”

He snagged her wrist and tugged. “Come on, before I throw you into a cold shower dressed like that.”

“You’re such a jerk,” she said, without venom. But she must’ve known he wasn’t kidding because she tossed back the blankets and swung her lean, toned legs over the side of the bed. She stood with her back to him and stretched. The hem of his shirt inched up, and if he were less of a gentleman, he would’ve leaned down for a view of her luscious ass cheeks.

She dropped her arms, taking the temptation with them. Padding barefoot over the carpet, she moved around him and entered the bathroom. The door clicked shut and a second later, he heard water running in the shower.

On the other side of the door, she’d be stripping. Desire smoldered inside him. Jesus Christ, he needed to get Gigi to Ivy and Rami. His resolve was slipping. His brain kept wanting to snap back to the ease of being with Gigi two years ago. It was like muscle memory.

Back then, he wouldn’t have thought twice about following her into the shower, wrapping her legs around his waist, and taking her beneath the warm spray. Every instinct told him to do that now. And he’d never fought his instincts. Never turned away from his inner voice. But listening to the lust-fueled words now would only get him in trouble.

Both of them, in fact.

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