“Why would I be jealous? You and I are just friends. This is all for show, but I don’t want anyone thinking that you’re cheating on me with her.” She swallows. “Or vice versa.”

“Understood.”

“Is it too much to ask you not to see anyone else until after the wedding?”

“Consider it done.” I’m surprised how little I hesitate, but I’d agree to anything to protect her from a man who terrifies her the way Rich so clearly did the day he was in town. “Any other rules?”

“Only one.”

I arch a brow, waiting. “Name it.”

“Don’t ask me about Rich. Don’t make me explain.”

Carter

One year ago . . .

One minute I’m standing at the bar at Jackson Brews, talking to Jake about his newest IPA, and the next someone grabs me by the shirt and molds her body to mine.

Not just someone. Teagan Chopra. She balls a fist in my shirt and tugs me close as she backs against the wall. It’s instinct to follow. Instinct to lean in and feel every curve of the body that’s starred in a good number of my fantasies. In fact, I might be dreaming, because I’ve had more than a few start like this—so many that blood is racing to my dick. Just. Like. That.

I’m not going to look the fool, though, so I arch a brow and play it cool. “Can I help you with something?”

She guides my head down until my lips are only a breath from hers. “Could you play along? Please?”

Play along as in . . . kiss her? Or play along as in stand here, painfully close to the mouth I dream about on a regular basis?

Her lips are bare tonight. No red lipstick or shiny gloss. Just naked pink lips so close to mine that my stomach knots with the desire to taste.

I flatten a palm against the wall behind her to steady myself. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend or . . . something?” Her gaze slices to someone across the room then back to me.

I smile slowly. “What’s in it for me?”

I’m not an ass, but what she’s asking is going to cost me. Every time she inhales, her breasts brush my chest, and her citrus and lavender smell is filling my head and making me think about the last time we were this close. At my family’s cabin last summer, swimming in the lake. We were laughing. Flirting. I thought it’d be a good idea to pull her into my arms and kiss her. Arrogant fuck that I am, it never occurred to me that she’d react so badly when I lowered my mouth to hers—her panic more appropriate for a woman who was about to be shoved underwater than one who was about to be kissed. That memory makes me want to back up and forget how good she smells, how soft she is under the palm that’s slid toward her ass of its own volition.