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I have nothing to offer him other than the child inside of me.
He’s August Graves. King of the hot corner. The guy who can land any woman he wants with the flick of his wrist.
I’m the woman behind the scenes who maps out what the world gets to see of him.
He twists my words around. “And what if wedidend up working out? How would that affect our son? I’d rather takethe risk.”
I appreciate his hopefulness.
I smile and reach for his hand on my thigh. “But how? You’ve never had feelings for me, August. Never. Why now? We were only supposed to be helping each other, remember?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “You don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?” I ask him sincerely.
He shakes his head like he’s now trying to bury the question. “I always thought I made it annoyingly obvious for you. That surely you’d run away if you really knew. But I’m not sure you’ve ever even considered it a possibility.”
“What are you sayi?—”
“Just forget I mentioned it. I was just curious. I’ll drop it.”
I’m not sure what August meant when he said “if I really knew,” but I’m intrigued to know now more than ever.
Things have been changing for me, no matter how much I’ve told myself they haven’t. If I could hope for anything to come from this possibility, it would be that August and I land on the same page.
However, my mind is going to be a difficult hurdle to overcome.
But there’s one thing I’m currently confident in—I’m crazy about him, and I need to figure out what to do with these new feelings.
“That’s a lot to process. I’d like to think about it. Not that you asked me out or anything, but if it were something we ever considered, I think it would be smart to have already thought the possibilities through,” I say, a light giggle escaping me. “Not when I’m blinded by an award-winning orgasm.”
If we ever decide to talk about it and not use our bodies to speak for us.
August’s head cocks to the side and a smirk finds his lips. “Award-winning, huh?” He leans forward to kiss me. “Glad to know I don’t suck.”
I shove at him playfully before he reacts, claiming my mouth against his. “Let’s get home to the fur queen. I can feel her separation anxiety from here.”
The warmth I feel when he says “home” in relation to us is a feeling I can’t articulate.
“Says the man who leaves his door cracked open at night in case she finally decides to sleep with you,” I tease.
“Who said that was for her?” August protests. “There’s another woman in the house I’m still hoping will find me worthy enough to sneak into my bed at night.”
Yep. The warmth is everywhere now, and it doesn’t look like it’ll be leaving anytime soon.
27
AUGUST
“Think you can try to be at least somewhat obedient for me, miss thing?”
Silence. That’s all I get. Figures Zion wouldn’t speak up when I needed her to. I’m trying to communicate here. The dog never stops yapping when it’s not important.
“This is a surprise. You got me?” I remind her, scratching the spot behind her ear that she loves. “Don’t blow my cover.”
Zion places her paw on me and nudges her nose under my hand, refusing to let my petting stop.
She’s needy like her mother. Always wanting to be touched.
