Am I really going in there?
She stood frozen, listening. For what, she wasn’t sure. She imagined his naked body as he fisted his cock to relieve the pressure they’d built. Her knees weakened, and she dropped back down to the bed.
She wasn’t ready for this. For him. For what would inevitably be a painful end to their two-week sham. She’d had her fun. Now she just needed to find a way to satisfy the throbbing ache between her legs without Zane.
AFTER A LONG, hot bath, Willow was clearheaded and strong in her resolve not to let their impromptu make-out session allow her to digress. She tiptoed out of the bathroom, hoping Zane had really gone to sleep as he’d claimed he was going to when he’d come out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, looking like sex on legs. Mark Wahlberg had nothing on him. Zane could have modeled for a Boogie Nights commercial with that viper in his drawers.
The bedroom was dark, but there was no missing the form of a large, nearly naked man sprawled across the bed. Ugh. He was supposed to sleep on the couch. She eyed the narrow couch, then the bed. What woman in her right mind would turn away Zane Walker? The one who knows firsthand what sleeping with Zane means. A night of unforgettable pleasure, even her first time. A night of caring whispers and tender touches, and later, with the first two times under her belt, combustible, explosive, passionate sex. To be followed up by certain heartbreak when our fake engagement comes to an end and I’m still hung up on you.
Was it sad that the best sex of her life had been when she was just shy of eighteen and knew nothing about it? She’d tried to get lost in passion with the men she’d been with since, but no one had ever come close, which was a great reminder of why she couldn’t do it again. Because no one has the best sex of their life at that age. She’d obviously romanticized them and fictionalized their sexual encounter to heights no one could ever live up to.
She gently moved his arm and leg to the other side of the bed and crawled in, huddling close to the edge. The sheets smelled like him. She buried her nose in them, closed her eyes, and at some point the sexy fantasies drifting through her mind lulled her to sleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
WILLOW AWOKE TO warm breath against her cheek, a heavily muscled arm around her middle, and a hard cock nestled against her ass. This was not happening. But it sure felt good.
No, no, no!
She carefully lifted Zane’s wrist between her finger and thumb, thinking she’d extricate herself without any need for conversation. He curled his fingers around her ribs and pressed his body tighter against her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to move. But, but, but . . . One of her teenage fantasies realized in a few glorious seconds. Mm-hm, and what comes next? A shattered heart, you idiot.
That was enough to set her into motion. “Zane,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond.
“Zane,” she said louder.
He moved his leg over hers, trapping her with his powerful thigh.
Lovely. “Zane, get up.”
He snuggled in a little closer. Every hard inch of him squished between her ass cheeks.
“Jesus, Z,” she mumbled.
In the space of a breath, he was on top of her, straddling her hips and gazing down at her with that devilish grin that probably burned off half the panties in LA.
“No,” she said.
“No what?” He waggled his brows.
She eyed his enormous cock. “No everything.”
He looked down at his erection and laughed. “You’re going to give him a complex.”
“Z!” She pushed him off and jumped from the bed, settling a hand on her hip. She tried to glare at him, but he lay there looking sexy and playful and so very Zane, she couldn’t do more than laugh.
He patted the bed. “Come on, Wills. Let’s play.”
“We played last night. You were supposed to sleep on the couch.”
“Oops. I forgot.” His eyes cruised down her body, and she felt herself go damp. “Damn, baby. You look even finer in the morning than you do in my fantasies.”
“Whatever.” She threw the pillow at him. “I’m taking a shower, and when I come out, that viper of yours better be sleeping.”
He pushed up on one elbow. “Only one way that’s going to happen.” He eyed the empty side of the bed.
“Dream on, big boy.” She grabbed her clothes from her suitcase and headed for the bathroom—locking the door behind her. That was to keep her in, rather than keep him out. A quick glimpse in the mirror caused her stomach to plummet. Her T-shirt wasn’t so big after all. Zane had gotten a clear view right through her white lace panties to the part of her that was begging her to get right back in that bed and do the big, hot, arrogant actor.
A long while and two self-pleasured orgasms later, she left the bathroom and found Zane pacing the balcony in those tight black briefs. Her body stirred again. Two weeks of this was going to kill her.
She needed space to clear her head . . . again. She went to the balcony and whispered, “I’m going down to get breakfast.”
He pointed to the phone and mouthed, Sorry.
The look in his eyes told her he really was.
She grabbed a muffin and coffee from the café and took them out to the lawn, gazing out at the beautiful mountains bordering the water. The resort made Lake George feel fancy and upscale. Sitting on the grass in her skinny jeans and T-shirt, she kicked off her sandals, and a cool breeze swept over her feet. If it weren’t for the wedding preparations taking place on the opposite side of the lawn, she could almost pretend the elaborate resort didn’t exist. Every once in a while, Willow thought about what it would be like to be the bride instead of the baker. Between baking wedding cakes and catering the receptions, it was hard not to think about weddings. But she wasn’t like some women who needed a man. No, Willow was too independent to need anyone.