“I’ll see you tonight,” Saanvi says to me. Her smile’s so wide she’s glowing. God, I hope I’m that happy if I ever get married. “It’s nice to meet you, Carter.”

“You too,” Carter says.

“Oh, and I have a surprise for you.” She digs into her pocket and pulls out an envelope, tossing it to Carter. “That’s the key to the other honeymoon suite.”

My eyes go wide. Why is she putting Carter in a suite?

“I talked Mom into letting you two share a room.” Saanvi winks at me. “You can thank me later.”

I can only blink as she walks away. This was not the plan.

I spin in Carter’s arms, cringing. “I’m sorry. She means well. It’s just—”

He puts his thumb on my bottom lip and lowers his forehead to touch mine, and I stop talking. Even if he hadn’t put his thumb on my lip, I’m not sure I’d be capable of forming coherent sentences with the full intensity of Carter’s gaze on me.

He lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “Your old boyfriend is watching, so if you want him to believe we’re together, maybe you should tone down the disappointment over sharing a room with me.”

At least, I think that’s what he says. I only pick up every other word or so, because his lips brush my ear as he speaks and the sensation sends licks of pleasure up my spine, reminding me of his touch, his mouth, his magical fingers . . .

I’m still frozen with lust when he pulls back. “What do you say we go check out our room and unpack our clothes?”

I nod stupidly. Right. We should definitely go to our room and take off our clothes—or put them away.

He chuckles, as if he can see right into my pathetic, lust-addled brain. “Come on, Teagan. I won’t bite. Not again. Not unless you want me to.” He presses his thumb to the faded mark on my neck. And after that bonus jolt to my libido, he takes my hand and leads me toward the stairs.

Carter

Having lived in Jackson Harbor my whole life, I’m familiar with the Hayhurst mansion bed and breakfast, but I’ve never had a reason to stay here. I knew it was a nice place, but I didn’t realize how big or opulent until today.

Our suite is incredible. There’s a kitchenette, a large bathroom with a tile shower that has half a dozen showerheads, and a Jacuzzi tub by windows that overlook the lake. On the other side of the kitchenette is a sofa facing a massive four-poster bed.

One bed.

“Your sister must really like you,” I say.

Teagan threads a hand through her dark hair as she surveys the room. “Go, Saanvi. Thanks for making sure I can sleep with my fake boyfriend.” She wanders toward the bed, where a little red box is wrapped with a black ribbon. She pulls the card off the top and reads, “‘For my big sister. Congratulations on finding an epic love. I’m so excited for you.’” She squeezes her eyes shut.