From Fake to Forever (17 page)

Most of all, she needed him because, despite her confusion and protests to the contrary, she was pretty sure she was falling in love with this man she’d accidentally married, who’d slowly let her peel back his layers, exactly as she’d hoped. Who also wanted to use their marriage to get himself into the CEO’s office and then divorce her.

What was she going to do?

Eleven

J
ason’s loft condo on 12th Avenue was the most gorgeous piece of real estate Meredith had ever seen. And that was including the mayor of Houston’s house, her parents’ house and Lyn Couture’s office.

“Oh, my God, Jason,” she breathed when she walked through the door to take in the floor-to-ceiling glass on three sides that displayed the illuminated New York skyline like a photograph.

But it wasn’t a still life; the vibrant city zipped by in a string of lights, people and vehicles. To the west, the Hudson flowed to the Atlantic, while high above, she and Jason watched from the hushed, darkened atmosphere of his home.

Ebony hardwood floors polished to a high sheen reflected the city’s movements, and when Jason snapped on the lights, she gasped again as the open floor plan spread out around her. The stainless-steel and grey granite kitchen looked like something out of a magazine, and the masculine furnishings accented the huge living area creatively to block out individual rooms despite the lack of walls.

An angular staircase zigzagged from the hardwood to the second floor, where she could see another sitting area beyond the glass divider, as well as two doors leading to what were probably the bedrooms.

And this was where she would stay for however long she could finagle it. With Jason. It made her a little faint.

Dropping her shoulder bag, she put a hand on his arm and leaned in with as grave an expression as she could muster. “I mean this in all seriousness. Can I have the condo in the divorce?”

“Not unless you have a really good lawyer,” he deadpanned with a wry twist of his lips. “I take it that means you like it.”

“It’s breathtaking. I had no idea something like this existed. I mean, you see the pictures in magazines and you think they used Photoshop or something to make the views so spectacular.”

With a grin, he picked up the bag she’d dropped and hefted the other one, then nodded for her to precede him toward the stairs. “It’s smaller than some places and not in a trendy neighborhood. But I like it.”

She could tell. The furnishings and decor had Jason Lynhurst stamped all over them. This place was clearly something he took pride in, and inside these walls, she’d bet he forgot all about his suits and business deals. She was dying to find out.

He bid her good-night at the door of her room and she let him go with no small amount of regret. It was appropriate to sleep apart. Sleeping in the same bed had implications. Hell if she could remember what they were right this minute, but she’d make the best of it.

Well, this was no different than sleeping alone in a hotel room. But that was before she’d realized how strong her feelings for Jason were becoming.

Her room was small but functional, with a tiny window that let in almost no moonlight, but the room was along the interior of the building. At least the bedroom had an en suite bathroom so she didn’t have to parade through the upstairs sitting area to get to the other one.

She turned on all the lights and got ready for bed, but sleep didn’t come easily. Jason’s surprise job offer churned through her mind. Being Cara’s assistant was more her speed, but it was safe and familiar. Was that what she wanted? What was New York if it wasn’t a place to take a leap?

Of course, Jason could very well recant in the cold light of morning. After all, he had a history of making rash decisions and then taking them back the next day.

At some point, she fell asleep. A vivid dream took her down a rabbit hole of confusion. Jason was gone. She had a sense of being alone...and frightened...

She awoke in a cold sweat, startled and with no clue where she was. All at once, reality settled over her. She was in New York, in Jason’s loft.

Chest heaving, she tried to calm her racing heart. Nothing she did worked. Her heart beat erratically and painfully in her chest and she couldn’t catch her breath.

Whose stupid idea was it to sleep in separate bedrooms? Meredith was flesh and blood and wanted Jason’s comforting arms around her. Right now.

Slipping from the bed, she padded out of her room and across the sitting area before her screaming conscience could remind her that they’d agreed it was better not to sleep together.

Jason’s door was ajar. She let herself in, pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust. The bed took shape and then she just barely made out the sleeping form in it.

Jason.
Her heart sighed in relief.

She slipped beneath the sheet and rolled into his warm body. Pulse settling, she breathed in his scent, and it triggered something incredibly relaxing. It came back to her on a flash of memory—sleeping with him like this in Vegas. Sheer bliss. She loved curling up against his back.

But then he sighed and flipped over, disrupting her position.

“Uh, sleeping here,” he muttered and said something else unintelligible.

“I had a bad dream,” she whispered. Out of nowhere, her voice broke on a sob.

“Hey,” he said softly and his fingers slid through her hair, his thumb featherlight against her jaw. “God, Meredith. You’re shaking.”

He shifted, reaching behind him to what had to be a bedside table. With a snick and a whir, a dark curtain behind the bed rose, spilling light over them. The whole wall behind the head of the bed was glass, and the skyline he’d revealed was almost as gorgeous as her husband. Jason lay spread out in his bed, sheet at his waist and one hand under the pillow as he faced her.

Not so much of a cure for her racing heart, then.

He tilted her chin to look her in the eye, evaluating. “Come here,” he instructed and lifted an arm in invitation. “You’re freezing.”

Yes, she was. On the inside, where she couldn’t reach it. Ice ran through her veins, overwhelming her all at once.

Unable to stop shaking, she nestled her backside into his torso and when the heavy weight of his arm dropped against her waist, she closed her eyes, fully at peace for the first time in...forever.

Lacing her fingers through his, she absorbed his body heat and let it soak into her bones, liquefying them. “This wasn’t a cheap ploy to get into your bed. I swear. This isn’t about sex.”

He was silent for a moment, nestling her a little tighter against him. “I could see for myself that it wasn’t. Better now?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

His thumb absently stroked hers. She wondered if he even realized how comforting it was. How greatly she’d needed him. But he couldn’t possibly know because she hadn’t told him. Regardless, he’d instinctively guessed the exact right thing to do to make her feel better.

And this was not like Vegas at all. It was far, far better than she could have ever imagined.

“What was your dream about?” he asked softly.

Bits and pieces of it floated back to her. “I was looking for...something.”

It had been on the tip of her tongue to spill all the images and emotions from her dream. How she’d dashed out to the street in her lacy pajama top and shorts, searching for any sign of Jason’s familiar form. How she couldn’t find him.

But she didn’t say any of that. Interpreting the dream wasn’t difficult. She was scared of losing him and had no idea how to hold on to him.

“Something important?” Jason prompted.

“Critically. But I couldn’t find it and it scared me.” She sighed. “Sounds stupid to be so scared over that.”

Especially since her real fear was the exact opposite—that she’d continue to have daily contact with Jason for the foreseeable future and it would be torturous because it wouldn’t unfold like she’d desperately come to want. She wished for their relationship to be like
this
. Holding each other in the dark. Whispering about their dreams and failures and uncertainties. Being there for each other. Loving each other.

And that wasn’t the marriage she’d signed up for. She couldn’t even open her mouth and tell him her secrets.

“Fear isn’t something we can rationalize.” His voice drifted and she realized he was tired but fighting to stay awake. For her sake.

“Sorry I woke you up. I just needed to feel safe. Don’t kick me out.”

“’Kay.”

His arm grew heavier and his breathing even. And he didn’t so much as roll away from her even a little. He cared about her; there was no mistaking it. It just wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was time to figure out what could be enough.

* * *

Jason woke all at once, extremely aware of two things: one, the raised curtain let in a hell of a lot of sunlight for 6:00 a.m. Two, Meredith was in his bed, snugged up against him, spoon-style, despite an ocean of bed on the other side of her.

And he liked her exactly where she was. His lower half firmly approved and raised the flag in joyful salute.

That was bad. She’d come to him in the middle of the night looking for a security blanket, not a lover. He couldn’t take advantage of her. They’d agreed to a civil relationship conducted in separate bedrooms. Like what he would have had with Meiling.

She made a noise in her throat and arched, presumably in a just-waking-up stretch. Her bottom grazed his groin and her noise transformed into a sexy moan. She murmured his name and snuggled closer.

He groaned. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t married Meiling. He’d married Meredith and he couldn’t resist her. Not now, not ever. She was in his bed, in his head, drugging him with her seductive lure. Fisting his hands in the fabric at her hips, he hauled her closer, as she twisted against his erection in a slow, sensuous, deliberate slide.

Need exploded in his midsection, urging him to slake his thirst in his wife’s sweet center.

“Meredith,” he growled. She had four seconds to vacate his bed or reap the consequences. Which would be a very delicious and well-deserved punishment indeed.

“Yeah, hon?”

“
Now
it’s about sex.”

“You better believe it.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His boxer shorts hit the floor.

In seconds, he peeled the lacy top and shorts off her killer body and threw them over his shoulder, then spooned her back into place. He nipped at her throat at the same moment she reached back to guide his hands to her breasts. Hot and firm, they filled his palms, and he explored her peaked nipples at his leisure until she pushed deeper into his hands, silently begging for more.

“I need you now,” she murmured thickly and her desire zinged through him.

He had a goddess in his bed, in his arms, and he wanted to be inside her, pleasuring her, completing her, while she filled him from the inside out with her unique power.

Groaning with the effort, he rolled away and fumbled in his nightstand for the condoms that he was pretty sure were still there from his last relationship...which had ended six or eight months ago if he recalled. His fingers closed around one and miraculously, he got it into place without losing it altogether.

He slid into heaven a moment later. She gasped and tilted her hips, drawing him deeper. The perfection sent him into an upward spiral, nearly initiating a premature explosion he wasn’t ready for.

“Wait,” he gasped and stilled her writhing body with a flat hand to her stomach.

“Uh, no.” She thrust backward, and his eyes crossed as the pressure built. “You feel amazing. I can’t wait. Touch me.”

With no clue how he’d held back, he complied, fingering her center with quick, firm circles and letting her set the frantic pace until she stiffened and cried out. Ripples of her fierce climax set off his and he buried himself to the hilt with a hoarse cry.

Spent, he held her close, reveling in the heat and sensation bleeding through his body.

“You feel free to have a nightmare any night you choose,” he muttered into her hair.

She didn’t respond for so long, he wondered if maybe she hadn’t heard him. Or maybe he’d said the wrong thing. “You okay?”

She rolled to face him and he missed the feel of her body against his.

“What are we doing here?”

Connecting.
Exactly like he’d imagined, except better. She belonged in his bed. “I was taking advantage of the fact that it’s Saturday. What were you doing?”

Her brows drew together. “I mean with us. I didn’t climb into your bed with the intent of seducing you.”

He hid a smile. “Is that what you did? Oh, no. I feel all compromised and stuff.”

“Stop making jokes and listen. This is serious. We’re married. We’re living in the same house. We slept together last night and you held me through the remnants of a nightmare. Then we woke up to indulge in wicked, hot morning sex. All things real couples do. What part of this marriage is fake?”

All vestiges of good humor fled as her meaning sank in. “I guess... Well, when you put it that way, none of it is.”

“Yeah. This is as real as it gets. And I don’t think I can do it any other way.”

“You mean you want to share a bedroom and be a couple?” How he got that out with a straight face was beyond him. Because that cart was already a mile down the road ahead of the horse. All they were doing now was chasing it down so the cart and horse could have a conversation about how they’d be hooked together.

Her gaze fastened on to his and wouldn’t let him shake loose. “Is that what you want?”

He waited to feel a sense of panic or dread, but nothing materialized. Why not have a 100-percent real marriage, at least until they signed the papers? The benefits suited him pretty well and the more lovey-dovey they came across to his mother, the better.

He could sleep with Meredith every night. The thought made him downright light-headed with glee.

“It’s not what I thought would happen,” he said slowly. This was the core of his problem with Meredith; she messed up his vision. Instead of balking against it, maybe it was time to embrace it. “But I’m not opposed to it. If you’re not.”