Page 93 of Strictly Pretend

“That people don’t go getting engaged when they barely know each other.”

A half-smile pulls at his lips. “But that’s the thing. I know everything about you.” He reaches out and traces a tiny scar on my left eyebrow. “I know you got this jumping off a fence, and that you cried because you bled on your favorite Cinderella t-shirt, not because you were hurt.”

I swallow, saying nothing.

“I know that you hate cats because when you were eight, you were with your parents in Spain and you were surrounded by a group of feral strays who were living in a hollowed out boat on the beach. And you had to get rescued by a local prostitute who tore your parents a new one because they left you alone.”

I can’t swallow this time. My throat feels too tight.

“I know that you love books almost as much as you love life. I know that you howl at the moon because there’s something primal inside you that you’ve spent a lifetime pushing down, but it always finds its way out.” He brushes his lips against mine. “I know how you sound when you come on my cock. And you know how I sound when I come so hard inside you that it feels like my world got turned on its axis and it’ll never go back.”

He blinks, his thick eyelashes sweeping down. “I know that Will hurt you. That he betrayed you in the worst way possible. And I can promise you that I’ll never, ever do that. So don’t tell me I don’t know you. I know you, Emma Robbins. I know things I suspect that nobody else ever has known. And I know that when I wake up in the morning and you’re there, laying next to me, that my day is going to be the best day I’ve ever had.”

My eyes are so wide they’re starting to hurt. “I…” My mind goes blank.

“So don’t tell me I don’t know you. Or that you don’t know me. Tell me you don’t want me, that’s valid. Because if you don’t like what you’ve seen this week, then I’ll walk away.”

“We could just date,” I whisper.

“We could.” He nods and for a second I already feel regret. “But I think we might be beyond that now. Tell me, do you have something against marriage?”

“No. But you do.”

He gives a little chuckle. “Clearly I don’t.”

“You said you hate weddings.”

“Maybe I hadn’t found the right person to love weddings with.”

“You said you got engaged to Lianne too soon.”

“Ten years later would have been too soon.” He looks so certain of himself. “It was wrong. This is right.”

I’m so confused. I like him. I more than like him. But we’ve been pretending for so long that I have no idea what’s real.

“I tell you what,” he says, his voice completely serious. “Give me a month before you make any big decisions. That’s all I ask. Let me prove to you that I’m for real. We can date, we can talk on the phone every night. Whatever you need to take me seriously.” He lets out a breath. “That’s if you’re interested in this. In us…”

“Of course I’m interested. I don’t have sex with guys I’m not interested in. I… like you. A lot.”

“That’s good. Because I like you a lot too.” He kisses my brow. “Now shall we go dance? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everybody has gone inside.”

He’s right, everybody has disappeared. I blink. “Okay.”

“Good.” He smiles and takes my hand and leads me into the massive series of marquees. “I’m glad we’ve got this sorted.”

BROOKS

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Emma says, looking shocked as I lead her around the dancefloor to the melodies of a string quartet. They’re playing modern tunes in a classical way. Emma tells me it’s aBridgertonthing, whatever that is, but I just go with it.

“Of course I can dance. What were you expecting?” I ask her, amused. I haven’t been able to let her go all night. Maybe because there was a moment back there when she seemed like she didn’t believe me. And I get that, because this whole thing between us has been completely backward.

She doesn’t trust easy. I get that too. I wouldn’t trust me as far as I can throw me. But the fact is, my feelings for this woman have hit me like a wrecking ball. I’m like a teenager experiencing his first rush of hormones. I don’t want to let her go. I don’t want this to end.

The fact she’s agreed to give me a month has given me a rush of hope. The kind I haven’t felt for a long time. It’s addictive.

“I don’t know.” She tightens her hold around my neck, her body pressed against mine. “I just wasn’t expecting you to have natural rhythm.”

“You thought the stick up my ass was going to be a problem?” I joke and she starts to laugh.

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