Page 21 of Doing It for Love

“Now, mister.”

He saves everything and shuts the laptop, encasing us in darkness. But I can still see the reflection of the moon in his glasses.

“Did you have fun?” he asks, taking my hand and leading us to the bedroom.

“Mmhmm. Can I have my ring back now?”

He nods and tucks me into our bed. He sets his glasses in their case, and when we get snuggled under the covers he pulls the ring from his wallet and reaches for my hand. It takes him one, two, three shots to finally get it on the right finger in the dark. I’m laughing at him when it slides into place.

“I’m blind. Give me a break.”

His body molds to mine, his belly button to the small of my back, leg tucked between my calves, chest pressed against my spine, and hot breath spreading on my neck. My heart thumps unevenly as he laces our fingers together and sets our hands on my hip.

I’m so tired I feel like I could sink through the mattress and stay there forever. But Landon’s lips start to graze over my neck, sending goose bumps up and down my sides. My grip tightens on his hand, and I press my knees together, trapping his leg. I feel his teeth against my skin when he smiles. Damn him.

I wiggle to the very edge of the bed, but like a smart-ass he follows. The scruff on his chin is driving me wild, and as tired as I was five seconds ago, that’s hownottired I am now.

“Lizzie?” he says in a deep voice. His sex voice. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend I’m immune to his charm.

He pulls on my pajama top, uncovering my shoulder. He presses a warm kiss there. “You called me your fiancé tonight.”

“You bet your sweet ass I did.”

“I liked it.”

“Fiancé,” I say in a seductive lilt. His kisses trail across my shoulder and neck. I take a deep breath and lift my shoulder, cutting him off.

“You knock that off.”

“What?” he says, running his fingers over my arm. He squeezes my elbow twice.

I reach back and squeeze his thigh.

Oh, how easy it is to thwart Elizabeth Fanning when you have muscles like Landon Wangford. How can I forget how much I love the tone of his legs, the feel of his boxer shorts, the manly hair sprouting from his skin? I snatch my hand away before it squeezes his ass—his perfect ass—and before I dip my hand under his waistband, I dig my nails into his toned-as-hell flesh, let him thrust up against me, feeling just how hard he gets because ofme.

Seriously…it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since our bet and I’m ready to change my mind. I’m kind of relieved it’s proving to be difficult to keep my hands off him. After four years and the quickies and the meh times, I thought we’d lost that spark, but my screaming lady parts say otherwise.

Utah won’t be that bad. I mean, there’s skiing, and we won’t want to leave the hotel for long anyway.

Well, Landon will. He’ll be doing the film festival thing and talking “movie tech” stuff I don’t understand. I can handle it, but…it will be our honeymoon. How long is the festival? Will he have time for me if we’re there?

Doesn’t matter. He’ll love it, and that’s important. I go to wiggle my butt against his erection—because I’m sure he has one—but I stop.

He’d never let me live it down if I broke the rules first. I can hear him now. “See, Liz, you get excited about new ideas, then change your mind. It’s okay. I like that about you.”

Not this time, buddy.

Landon bites my earlobe, and I growl, roll out of bed, and snatch up my pillow.

“What’d I do?” he asks. I ignore him. He knows damn well what he’s doing.

“I’m going to the couch till you fall asleep.” I yank on the extra blanket, and he grabs it and pulls me forward.

“Don’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

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