Page 26 of The Bad Boy's Fake Wife

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I ask.

He tilts his head to the side. “Calling you what? My wife?”

I nod.

“Because youaremy wife,” Jonathan says matter-of-factly. “Emma’s nice and all,” he muses, “but ‘wife’ just rolls off the tongue better.”

I scoff in disbelief.

Jonathan smirks, tilting his head playfully. “Admit it, wife, you like the sound of it, too.”

I roll my eyes, but my body betrays me, leaning into his warmth as he drapes an arm around my shoulders. My heart stumbles for a beat before I force myself to focus. This isn’t real. “Well, don’t get too used to it, because this is all temporary.”

That seems to wipe the smirk off his face, which hardens into a frown.

“Why did you have to ruin the moment?” he asks, and I don’t have an answer. I just continue in silence as we return to the hotel. Maybe a part of me wants to keep repeating that it’s fake, that this will have to come to an end, because I’ve stupidly begun blurring the lines between reality and fiction. It’s getting harder to remember this is fake.

Lately, I keep seeing a version of him who doesn’t frown as much, or doesn’t have malice in his voice when he’s teasing me—a version of him who flirts and laughs and seemingly likes my books for real, not in a mocking way.

I can’t stand that version of him because I can’t hate it, no matter how much I want to.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jonathan mutters next to me. I glance at him before shrugging.

“I just really need a shower. That jail reeked.” I wrinkle my nose and he nods, his gaze a little distant. The moment we get to our hotel room, Jonathan leaves to go ask for the towels he wanted the other day while I strip out of my clothes to take a shower.

The cool water is exactly what I need. The second it hits my back, I let out a sigh of relief. It feels divine, and I stand there just enjoying the water for longer than I should before I begin scrubbing my body with soap.

It takes almost an hour for me to finish showering, but Jonathan still isn’t back with the towels and the ones hanging in the bathroom are small…so small they won’t cover my entire body. Sighing, I grab one and cover the lower half of my body, tying it around my waist before stepping out of the en-suite bathroom and into the bedroom.

I don’t notice Jonathan is in the bedroom with me until I hear a loud thud, and I jump to find him standing there, his ears red as he stares at me with hunger in his eyes.

“Jonathan!” I exclaim. “I didn’t know you were back. Did you get the towels you wanted?”

Jonathan mumbles something incoherent, but his eyes are still on me…and I realize exactly why.

My towel is around my waist, so my entire chest is on display. I totally forgot that I’m standing here half-naked.

“Oh.” My cheeks flare with heat and I bring my hand up to hide my chest, but it doesn’t really help, considering he’s already seen it all.

Jonathan’s eyes widen, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. His gaze flickers from my face to the towel and back again, as if waging an internal battle…a battle he’s clearly losing.

Jonathan drops the towels he’s been holding, something I hadn’t noticed before, and he steps closer to me. He brushes back a few wet strands of my hair and tucks them behind my ear. The gesture sends a chill down my back, and I can feel him shivering from the touch, too.

When he speaks, his voice is dangerously low. “For someone I’m supposed to hate, I am very attracted to you.”

My thoughts are blank. I can’t think of anything to say. He comes closer to me and I don’t push him away. Instead, I angle my head so I’m staring directly into his beautiful eyes. Yes, he has beautiful eyes that I’ve never noticed before. They’re the color of chestnuts, so brown and deep that they seem to pull me in. And for just one moment, I forget my hatred for him.

“You have such pretty eyes,” I find myself saying, and I reach out to caress his cheek. Jonathan closes his eyes at the gesture, and I pull my hand away. “I don’t want you to close your eyes.”

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, yearning reflected in both our eyes. Jonathan looks like he wants to say something but is holding back, and I want him to know it’s alright. He can tell me anything.

I find myself staring at his perfect lips, a light shade of pink that entrances me. I just know that they would feel soft against mine, softer than anything I’ve ever felt.

Jonathan’s breath mingles with mine, our lips inches apart. My pulse hammers in my ears, my breath hitching as the space between us disappears. My body is frozen, caught in the gravity of this moment. “Emma,” he murmurs, voice laced with something unspoken. “Can I—” His words die on his lips, and I realize I want this as much as he does.

I never knew a kiss could feel this good. He doesn’t even move at first, just letting the sensation of his mouth against mine wash through us like a cacophony of emotions. It’s driving me crazy and I lean into it, wanting and needing more. I can tell his hunger matches mine because he kisses me harder.

When he slips his fingers into my hair and draws me closer to him, I fall into a state of ecstasy like no other. I moan at the feeling of his tongue as it slides against my lips, seeking entrance, and I part them to let him in.

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