Page 94

“And I haven't exactly been a monk.”

Her head fell back as she let out a huff of laughter. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

I turned toward her. “But none of them are you.”

She looked up. The teasing disappeared from her face. For a second, I thought she might say something. Something honest. Something that would change everything.

Instead, she looked away.

“This is fake, Damon.”

There it was. Her favorite reminder. I nodded. “Yeah.”

She hugged the octopus tighter. And I wondered how long she planned on hiding behind those three words. Because the truth was, I'd never been more serious about anything in my life.

And that included the time I'd convinced my brothers I could ride a mechanical bull for five straight minutes. I'd lasted eleven seconds. This time, I wasn't planning on falling off.

Behind us, Julissa's voice rang out over the speakers, calling everyone back for the scavenger-hunt winners.

Mikayla straightened. “We should go.”

“Okay.”

She started walking. I reached out and took her hand. And as we joined the rest of the wedding party, I settled into my new reality. For a man who'd spent his entire life loving attention, I'd finally found the one person whose attention actually mattered.

And if I played my cards right, maybe one day she'd stop reminding me that none of this was real.

Because as far as I was concerned?

It already was.

15

WHEN A GLASS OF WATER BECOMES A GATEWAY DRUG

Mikayla

The silence on the ride home had been louder than anything Damon could have said. I’d gone with my typical avoidance tactic and buried myself in my phone—emails, two calls, the usual armor I hid behind—but it failed to distract me.

Jealous. The word sat in my chest like a stone. It kept repeating in my mind.

Damon had called it. I hadn’t even seen it coming, which meant he knew me better than I knew myself, which was a concept I wasn’t ready to face. I pulled on my sleep sweats slowly, deliberately, like the extra seconds might somehow untangle the mess I’d made of things.

After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and stalling for at least a good fifteen minutes, I opened the door.

When I walked out of the bathroom, Damon was stretched out on the bed like some kind of weaponized underwear model. He wore nothing but a pair of low-slung sweats and about a mile of bare skin, looking so damn sexy my mouth actually started watering. And not a cute little trickle, either. We’re talking full biological betrayal. I was one swallow away from needing a bib and a formal apology to my own nervous system.

This was a problem. Because I still hadn’t figured out how to fix the jealousy thing. And now I had this thing.

Damon was just lying there, completely unaware that he was single-handedly dismantling what little emotional composure I had left, looking infuriatingly, impossibly good. His chest was pure perfection. Those broad shoulders, that chiseled chest, and those arms. Those thick, muscular arms should've come with a warning label.

CAUTION: May cause excessive drooling, spontaneous ovulation, and the sudden urge to throw your panties across the room like you're shooting a three-pointer. Side effects include weak knees and temporary paralysis of common sense, accompanied by the overwhelming urge to climb him like you're auditioning for American Ninja Warrior.

I didn’t say a word as I walked to my side of the bed and plugged my phone into the charger. As I did, I noticed that there was a glass of water on the nightstand.

I picked it up. “Is this yours?”

“Nope. I got it for you.”