Page 100

I know he was trying to do the right thing, and it has nothing to do with not wanting me.

Our attraction toward each other isn’t really something we can hide. We can deny it and pretend it’s not there, but hiding it would be impossible.

That’s probably a huge reason why we’re able to pull this ruse off so well. If we can feel the tension, other people can, too.

Still, a rush of embarrassment over how I acted last night washes over me—over how it took a few drinks for me to relax enough to want to tell him how I felt.

Say it to me in the morning.

My heart starts to pound inside my chest, and I swear it feels as if it’s loud enough to wake him up.

Am I going to tell him?

Am I going to admit that I know this whole thing is already risky but I want more from it?

I’m not worried that he will reject me. I’m worried that crossing that line more than we have already is a bad idea.

Intimacy can cause someone to let their guard down, and when that guard is down, it’s easy to miss things. Important things. What if we start fooling around and then we both get the outcome we want from this deal? Do we keep fooling around? Will we still quietly stage a breakup? Truth be told, if we have a public one, I feel like that would defeat the whole point of this agreement. We can’t just be engaged and then break up. One of us will have to be the bad guy. I can’t be the bad guy. Preston’s not a bad guy.

Oh my god. We need a better exit strategy. This entire thing is going to blow up, and we’re going to lose all the work⁠—

“I can hear you overthinking,” Preston says behind me, his voice coarse with his first words of the day.

He takes a deep breath, but his hold on me doesn’t let up.

“I’m not,” I say quickly.

“And now you’re lying to me, Sunny. Come on now, don’t do that. We have a deal.”

I blow out a breath and then roll over to face him. He keeps his arms around my body, only now that I’ve moved, his hand is basically resting on my butt.

I like that he doesn’t move it.

Ugh. Why am I like this? One moment I’m panicking that we are messing this up, and the next I want him to touch me.

Is this normal? Is it because I’m stressed? Is it because I’m scared I’ll make the wrong choice?

“I was thinking about our exit strategy,” I confess, and his grin drops.

“Oh.”

“Not in a bad way,” I rush to say.

“I mean, is there another way to think about it?” he asks.

“No, I guess not, but I was thinking about how if we start fooling around, it might complicate things, and then what happens when we have to break up? I don’t want to be the bad guy, and I don’t want you to be the bad guy either, but it’s all so⁠—”

The hand resting on my butt squeezes one cheek as he pulls me closer to his body.

“Your brain is fascinating,” he says. “You literally just woke up and went into panic mode at the first thought.”

“No, my first thought was of you behind me and how much I enjoyed it.”

“Oh yeah?”

His smirk is back, and I love it.

“Yes, then I went into panic mode because doing something about it without an exit plan is not a good idea.”