Page 16 of Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy

“So…” I bit my lip, glancing sideways at Ostor. “What do you want to do about the bed thing?” My words came out careful, like I was negotiating a peace treaty. I hoped my question sounded casual, though inside, panic fluttered in my chest as the lines between fake and real wavered too close for comfort.

Ostor shrugged, his tusks catching sunlight as he looked back at the bedroom, his eyes shaded by this cowboy hat. He’d removed the glasses while we sat in the lobby. “We can make this work, right?” His voice came out calm, like he hadn’t justcasually suggested we’d share a bed. “You’re tiny. I'm big, but I can keep to my side.”

The thing was, I wasn’t scared of Ostor. The idea of curling up next to him didn’t fill me with unease. It filled me with something that was part of the problem. A weird cocktail of anticipation and something warmer, softer, kept sloshing through me. It was ridiculous for me to feel this way, because whatever this was, it wasn’t anywhere near real.

But I’d invited him here. I’d set the rules, such as they were. I’d laid out the boundaries clearly in my mind. Sharing a bed was way past the line. It took fake dating into . . . something else.

I realized I hadn’t answered him, so I forced myself to turn back toward the pool, trying to focus on the soothing sound of water trickling below us. “Yeah, sure. It’ll be fine.” My words came out more confident than I felt. My awkward laugh burst out. “I mean, it’s only for a few nights, right?”

Ostor’s large hands came to rest on the railing beside mine, his solid presence a comforting surprise. “If you’re worried, I can sleep on the floor, or maybe that chair-thing.”

“No way.” I groaned at the thought of him scrunching himself up on the sad excuse for a sofa. More decorative than functional, it wouldn’t even fit my body well, let alone that of a seven-foot orc. “And you’re not sleeping on the floor.” I met his eyes, finally, and immediately regretted it because the intensity there was too much for what we were supposed to be.

His smile came out slow; a tusky kind of grin that loosened everything inside me.

“Then we’ll share the bed,” he said, shrugging again, like it was the simplest solution in the world. “You’re safe with me.”

Chapter 7

Ostor

Was Rosey worried I’d roll onto her while we shared a bed?

Worse, did she think I’d do something she wouldn’t like, such as the male at the bar had done. Maybe ask her about her clothing or suggest she’s sitting on smooth reflective glass, though I wasn’t sure what the point of that was.

She didn’t know me well. Talking about my favorite color and my family’s business wasn’t enough to assure someone that I wouldn’t prey on them while they were at their most vulnerable.

I could lie on the sofa-ish thing in the area past the bed, though it was the size of a chair with a footrest.

Her shoulders loosened, and she gave me a smile that didn’t feel fake. But then she sighed, and I braced myself for her to say she’d changed her mind, that she was going to go to the front desk and ask them for a second room.

“You know what?” she said.

I held my breath.

“The truth is, I feel safe with you. I trust you, maybe more than I should since we just met, but despite that, I feel as if I know you. I know you won’t hurt me.” Turning, she leaned herback against the railing. “We’ll make this work. Thank you for being understanding about it.”

“You’re welcome.” I was grateful she no longer seemed distressed about this but worry gnawed on my bones for a completely different reason.

How was I going to lie beside her without accidentally touching her? The bed was big, but not large enough to keep my body from seeking hers while I slept. She was my fated mate, and I ached to tell her, to claim her. To be everything she could ever want and need both in and outside a bed.

I was teetering on the edge of something much, much stronger than mere friends.

We went inside, where Miguel waited politely.

“We’ll keep this room,” Rosey said with a cheery smile. “Thank you so much.” She gave him a slice of money, something new to orcs, and he left, passing another male tugging our bags into our room by the handles.

He placed them in the entryway and started to leave. This time, I stepped forward and tugged a nugget from my pocket, holding it out to him.

When I dropped it in his palm, he stared down at it before his eyes blazed. “This . . .”

“Not enough?”

“It can’t be real,” he said.

“It is. A small thing from the orc kingdom.”

The male barreled into me, giving me a hug. “Thank you. Anything you need? Ask for me. Jose.” With a grin, he whirled around and sped from the room, me calling out thanks as I shut the door behind him.

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