Page 100 of Paper Roses

“What are you doing?” he murmurs.

“Giving your back a rest.”

He scoffs. “You’re no weight. I like having you like this.”

I tighten my legs around him immediately my whole body warming at the affection in his eyes.

“I’ll do your hair then, seeing as your hands are full.” I reach for the shampoo bottle and pour some into my palms. A mint and herb scent fills the stall, and Jed leans back against the wall. I start to lather his hair. I make the massage hard the way I’ve learnt he likes, and his immediate groan of pleasure is gratifying.

He moves, and I clutch his big shoulders in alarm, but he’s just sitting down on the marble bench inside the shower. “You make my knees weak when you do that,” he mutters, and I grin. He shakes his head. “How did I never know you were such a minx?”

I laugh, feeling his silky hair slip through my fingers. “Maybe you bring it out in me. I’ve never been that for anyone else.”

He shakes his head, a wry look on his face. “I like that more than I should.”

I stare at him, my hands falling still. “What does that mean?” He shrugs and tightens his grip on my arse, his fingers starting to caress the wet skin. My dick stirs, but I need to know. “Well?”

He looks up at me, and I catch my breath. The beauty of his bone structure is very evident when it’s wet. “I mean that I like the fact that you’re different with me.”

My heart starts to hammer, but I know him very well. If I react to that statement with the hope and joy it brings out in me, he’d run a naked mile to get away.

“How very caveman,” I say lightly, and I chuckle when he beats his chest and makes a very credible Tarzan roar.

He falls silent while I make devil horns in his hair. He snorts, and I rinse his hair, holding my fingers over his eyes to stop the soap. I look up when he cups my chin in his hand. His eyes are solemn. “Artie, maybe?—”

I jolt as a bell rings in the room. “What on earth is that?”

“Someone’s at the door of the suite. Who would be here at this time of night?” he asks, whatever he was going to say forgotten. I want to scream. He grimaces. “Not a member of the bridal party, I hope. I’ve had enough of them. It’s our time now.”

I repress the big smile that wants to emerge at the possessiveness in that statement. “I ordered dinner,” I say lightly. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

I’m cursing my forethought at the moment, but he gives me a smile full of gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says fervently. He hesitates. “You always think of me.” The bell sounds again, and he sets me to one side. “You finish washing up, and I’ll get the food. I’ll set up on the terrace. It’s a gorgeous night, and the heaters will make it nice and warm. You need the fresh air and peace after today. Join me out there, yes?”

I nod, accepting the kiss he lays on my lips. Then he’s gone, fastening a hotel robe around himself, the white towelling emphasising the golden tone of his skin.

“How can I not think of you?” I whisper. I lick my lips nervously. I keep telling myself to stop dreaming—that he’s given me far more than I ever expected, but lately, I can’t stop this hope. He’s so different with me now. It’s as if the sex has loosened his tongue, and he tells me things all the time. Little inconsequential things that I nevertheless hoard with the passion of a man in love, because everything is interesting about him.

After finishing my shower, I grab a robe and make my way out to the terrace, hope growing inside me—like a tree reaching for the sky. Dozens of candles have been lit, and their golden glow flickers over his handsome face.

“Where did all these candles come from?” I ask in amazement.

He shrugs. “The hotel did it for me.”

It looks romantic, and his awkward expression indicates to me that this was his intent.

Maybe he’s falling for me a little bit too. Maybe it’s enough that we can make something of this fake marriage. I try to dismiss that radical thought, but it stays there all night as we eat and talk and laugh under a starry sky, and later, when he moves inside me, his whole attention is focused on me like I’m the most fascinating person he’s ever met.

When I wake up in his arms the following day, tumbled together in the sheets, his body warm and our arms and legs entwined, I know I’m more in love with him than ever, and all I can do is hope.

fourteen

. . .

artie

Our footsteps sound loud on the path as we jog through the wood. The trees are painted in their autumn colours of red and gold and our feet crunch through the fallen leaves. My whole body is loose and warm, my breaths white on the frosty air, and I feel that peace I always get from running.

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