Page 26 of Fake Dating an Orc Cowboy

He pulled back, his lips hovering close. His forehead rested against mine. I felt more connected to him now than I had with anyone in a long, long time, if ever.

“You taste like the very fates themselves,” he growled.

I wasn’t sure if it was the wine I'd had with dinner or the way his words seemed to strum every nerve in my body, but my lips trembled into a grin. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His hand slid up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, gentle compared to the heady heat I’d just felt. His gaze, almost feral, met mine. Neither of us spoke for a beat too long. Instead, we stared, breathing each other in.

This wasn’t supposed to matter, yet every part of me was responding like it absolutely did.

“That was more than I’d planned.” My voice barely came out a whisper.

“In a good or a bad way?”

“Oh, definitely good.” Amazing. Stunning. Life-altering good.

His eyes softened, though the hunger I found there hadn’t waned. If anything, it pulsed stronger now. “This was real for me, Rosey.”

Those five words pushed against something locked tight in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to face yet.

“Yeah,” I whispered. There was no point pretending otherwise.

Could we go back after this?

I might be damned, but I didn't want to go back, and I suspected he felt the same.

He took my hand, and we walked slowly to our building, taking the elevator to our floor, and entering our room. A flick of the switch bathed the hall in light.

“You take the bathroom first,” he said. “I’ll follow.”

Was he suggesting this to give me time to settle in bed, to pretend I was already asleep when he slipped between the covers? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ask.

“Thank you,” I said instead.

Inside the bathroom, I stared into the mirror while scrubbing makeup off my face with practiced moves. Beneath the splash of water, worry lingered like a shadow I couldn’t shake loose.

Rinsing my face, I massaged my cheeks, the cool water mixing with warmth from my skin.

“You do not look different,” I told my reflection as I toweled dry. It was getting pretty hard to ignore the turmoil in my chest that disagreed. It felt silly, but really, how could Inotlook different? Inside, everything had shifted. Whatever happened tonight had sent my world spinning.

How did one kiss, though a phenomenal, belly-fluttering kiss, do this? And more importantly, why did this fake wedding date situation feel too real?

Taking a deep breath, I peeled off my clothes, dragging on my sleep shirt that hovered just above mid-thigh. I left the bathroom, flicking off the light.

Ostor was sitting on the deck outside, his broad silhouette framed by the open sliding glass door. The night air stirred around him, playing with his hair. His back remained to me, but at the scuff of my bare feet on the tiles, his head turned, his gaze locking onto my frame.

Everything inside me flushed like I had a fever. I wasn't sick. No, this was something hotter. I felt alive and pulsing from one look alone.

He rose gracefully, considering how large he was. That simple movement pulled nearly all the air from the room, leaving it thick and swirling with something unnamed. Passing by me on his way to the bathroom, he said nothing, but the weight of his stare clung to the space he left behind. I wanted him to touch me. Just . . . graze my arm. Or my waist. Anywhere. I itched for it.

Snapping out of those thoughts, I went around the side of the bed and threw the covers back. I climbed in, shaking off whatever madness had filled my head without permission.

I reached over and turned off the lamp, letting the room sink into darkness. The muted sound of the bathroom door clicking shut mingled with the whirl of the air conditioner mounted above the hallway entrance. I stared at the ceiling, letting the cool air settle against my skin. Such an odd contrast to the heat swirling inside me.

Minutes passed. The sound of the bathroom door opening snagged my attention, followed by his soft, padding footsteps making their way to his side of the bed. Through the blur of shadows, I watched him pause before he finally climbed between the sheets.

The mattress dipped under his weight, yet we didn't touch. Close, but not close enough. Somehow, the space between us was the only thing keeping my sanity in place.

“Goodnight, Rosey,” he said in a bare whisper as if he really did think I'd already fallen asleep.

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