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Fuck.
“No!” I practically roar at her. I draw in another breath to try to calm the rage I feel that she’d really think that. “No,” I say much more calmly. “I can’t believe you’d even ask that.”
“Well?” she says in the form of a question—as if that must be why I don’t want to be with her.
But that’s sort of the whole problem. I do want to be with her.
Everything south of my dumb brain—including both my heart and my cock—is telling me I should give this a try with her. But my brain keeps stopping me short.
“Were you there? It was fucking incredible, Ava.” I lower my voice at my next admission. “And that’s what scares me so goddamn much.”
“I scare you?” she asks, surprise coloring her tone.
“You terrify me.” I give her my most honest answer.
One side of her mouth tips up at that—as if she likes having that power over me.
“Look, I know it was your first time, and I know you don’t have the…uh…experience I do. But if I’m being honest, you blew all those other experiences right the fuck out of my head. It’s not even a comparison. And I don’t know if that’s what you want me to say or if—” I stop when she rushes toward me, slamming into me with her body so that an oof sound escapes me as I’m suddenly sandwiched between her and the door.
I look down at her as her gaze moves to my eyes, and the heat that passes between us is fucking unbelievable.
It’s unbearable.
She leans up and presses her mouth to mine, and goddamn, I’d never believe this woman is as inexperienced as she claims because she certainly already has a lock on how to handle me.
I’m momentarily shocked as her mouth molds to mine, and she pulls back as quickly as she rushed at me.
I don’t dare move. I simply stare at her as I wait for her next words.
“Sorry,” she says a little sheepishly. “I just…couldn’t help myself. You were saying such nice things, and—”
I shake my head and cut her off. “It’s fine. I should go.”
“No, wait,” she says. “Come on in. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. We have some things we need to talk about.” She freezes for a beat, and then she rushes to add, “Not related to any of that.”
“Then what?” I ask a little stupidly.
“The media. How to handle the attention. Our backstory—making sure we’re on the same page. That sort of thing.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Want a drink?” she asks, leading me into the house. It’s on the small side—a foyer, a short hallway into a family room with the kitchen attached, and two other hallways that probably lead to the bedrooms.
“Sure. Got any Hendricks?” I ask hopefully.
“Sorry, no. Vodka is the drink of choice around here, and we might have some beer in the fridge.”
“Whatever you’re having is fine,” I say. On second thought, alcohol is probably a bad idea. It might end with us in bed together again. Honestly, I’m starting to get tired of fighting against it. But I also know if we’re really doing this fake relationship thing, then we’re going to have to get used to being around each other.
I wander around the family room as I wait for her to get us some drinks. The house doesn’t tell me anything about her. There isn’t any artwork hanging on the walls, no comfortable recliner to relax in after a long day of baking.
In fact, I realize I don’t really know much about her at all, and if we’re really going to convince the media and her ex that we’re dating, we should probably get to some details.
“Do you own this place?” I ask.
“No,” she says from the kitchen as she pulls two glasses out of a cabinet. “Kelly and I split rent. We’ve been here…oh, nearly three years now. Since we graduated from college.”
“What does Kelly do?”
