Page 50 of Pretend for Me

My eyes trail down her neck, finding those damn moles as the thought of dragging my tongue over them dances in my vision once again. “There’s very little I forget when it comes to you, Peter.”

“I hate that nickname, you know?”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you hate it as much as you say you do.” I lean in so the tip of my nose brushes her temple. “Somehow, I don’t believe you hate it coming fromme.”

Her lids flutter, and I look down through the water between us, noticing her crossed legs, like she’s trying to both subdue and spur on an urge between them. An urge I caused.

An urge I could feel on the tips of my fingers if I were to slide the navy fabric between her legs to the side and take a swipe.

And the satisfaction of knowing that I’m the motherfucker doing that to her does all sorts of wild things to my ego.

Her hungry gaze finds mine, her eyes no longer jade but acolor so dark, they’re nearly black. “So, what did you decide? Are you taking me up on my offer?”

I’m about to answer when she adds, “There are some rules I just want to make sure you’re aware of. Rules to keep this—us—safe.”

Curiosity spurs me despite my better judgment. “Rules?”

In one fluid motion, her hands snake around my shoulders, fingers intertwining at the nape of my neck, sending shockwaves down my spine. The water splashes around us as she lifts her legs to wrap around my waist so she’s suspended against me.

Her ankles lock behind me as her breasts press up against my chest, her soft curves to my hard planes maddening. And in one second flat, my cock goes from half-mast to steel pipe. The fucking devil incarnate knows exactly what she’s doing when she grinds against me in a feigned innocent gesture, spurring on a low moan.

My heart pounds against my ribcage as my hands white-knuckle the ledge behind her in an attempt to thwart my desire to nail her to it with my cock.

“Piper,” I growl in warning.

“Rule number one.” She leans in, her tongue tracing my scruffed jawline, chasing a droplet. “No kissing.”

My body stiffens impossibly, my breathing unsteady.

“Rule number two.” Her fingers tangle in my hair. “No waking up together.”

The water crackles with tension as Piper runs her thumb over my pebbled nipple. I quickly grasp her hand in mine, stopping her movement before I lose my resolve.

She chuckles softly. “And rule number three . . .” She slicks her lips. “Do not, under any circumstance, fall in love.”

My nostrils flare, her words hanging around us like thunderclouds. My eyes dip to her lips. “Are those rules just for me, or did your previous sausage fest have to abide by them, too?”

Her lips tug up in a smile. “What would you say if I told you they were just for you?”

A surge of possessiveness battles with desire as I position her against the wall. “I’d say you sound worried. Worried enough to have rules just for me and not the others.”

Her brow lifts indignantly. “The only thing I’m worried about,” she clenches her thighs, grinding against me again and making me exhale, “is how I’m going to fit this cock inside me.”

I brush my thumb over her bottom lip, listening to her breaths falter. But because my fiancée is nothing if not a risk-taker, an adventure-seeker, she chases my thumb with her tongue, pulling it in between her lips before sucking on it like a fucking lollipop. My eyes almost roll to the back of my head as I question my decision for the hundredth time since I made it.

Pulling my thumb out of her mouth and wrapping my hand around her delicate neck, I deliver my decision. “Then I guess you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Menon.”

“Ms. Parker,” she corrects me. “I’m not Mrs. Menon yet.”

“You will be soon enough. Might as well get used to hearing it now.”

She ignores my statement. “Why did you say I have nothing to worry about?”

I tilt my head, looking down at her with a measured gaze. “Because my answer is no.”

“No?” Piper reels back, her brows twisted in confusion. “Your answer is no?”

I give her a short nod.

---