“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still my wife.” I shrug.
She rises on her toes and leans in close, so close I can feel her tits brush my chest.Fucking hell.
It reminds me of something. A memory I can’t quite recall. Did she touch me like this the night we got married?
Her lips brush my ear. “For three months,” she whispers. “Now get to work,husband.”
Chapter Nineteen
PRESLEY
I’ve been mentally preparing myself for the arrival of my hus—of Hollis,for days.
I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. I made room in my closet and cleaned out the drawers in my dresser. I even gave him precious counter space in the bathroom.
I don’t know how any of this is going to work. I haven’t lived with anyone in years. I tried having a roommate back in my early twenties and quickly learned it wasn’t for me. It was like having an intruder in my personal space all the time. I never felt like I could relax.
And I’ve definitely never lived with a man.
Will he feel like an intruder too? Will this drive us apart?
Before my shift starts at the bar, I try to come up with a list of rules or boundaries, if you will. We came up with some basics back in Vegas, but those were more parameters than actual rules. Having a general housekeeping rule for your fake marriage is always a good idea, right?
But the whole time I try to come up with something, I draw a blank. All I can think about is him, coming in that door. Being here.Here.In my bar.
I don’t know how many times I’ve lain in bed over the years, wondering where he was and if he was all right. I’d picture him walking through that door and coming back to us.
To me.
And when he finally does, just a few hours later, nothing could have prepared me for the way he looks behind the bar at Creeds.
Why does he have to look so…at home? So natural and at ease. He settles in quickly, learning the register in minutes. He’s polite to the customers, but not creepy. He and I move around each other like we’ve been doing it for years.
I try to convince myself it is because he’s a former bartender, and it would be exactly the same with anyone with this much experience. But even I know that’s a lie, and that’s what makes this whole situation so dangerous. That’s why we need rules.
Otherwise, one of us is bound to get hurt.
“Did you like the band?” Hollis asks, making me jump.
I drop my keys just as we walk up to the door of my apartment.
He bends down to pick them up, and I try not to notice the way his thighs flex in his jeans. I am very interested in what his workout routine is, because it has to be…intense.
He rises and hands them over, just as I realize he asked me a question. “Oh, um…yes. I’ve booked them several times, and they always bring a crowd. Even on a Tuesday, which is a rarity. Usually we’re pretty slow.”
I unlock the door, and he waits for me to go first.
Why am I suddenly so nervous?
Flipping the lights on, I turn just as he steps inside. I see him take a tentative look around, and my stomach flips. Does he hate it? Is he regretting this?
Am I?
“It’s nice,” he finally says.
“It’s not much,” I try to argue. Nearly everything in here is secondhand. After living in my parents’ house, he must think this is a dump in comparison.
He drops his bags by the sofa and takes a step forward. His eyes meet mine. “I’ve lived in a lot of places that weren’t much. This is perfect, Pres. I’m grateful for the hospitality.”
