“Yeah.” A muscle ticks in his jaw. He lifts his head, and the gray of his eyes is like smoke. “And having a beautiful, half-naked woman walking around my house, challenging me… is not helping me keep my cool.”
Beautiful.
The word slips past my defenses like a blade between my ribs—sharp, precise, and landing too close to the heart of things.
The way he says it—resentful, factual, frustrated—makes it feel real. The compliment threads itself into me, spreading heat through my veins.
I swallow the flutter in my throat and fire back. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Towel.”
His lip twitches, and the tension in his shoulders breaks. “Fair point. I promise to use a robe from now on.”
“Good. You also can’t wear glasses or sweatpants.” I tick off items on my fingers. “No tailored suits. No tight jeans. No sleek cashmere sweaters. And no leather jackets.”
His smile breaks through, and it’s not the mocking, arrogant smirk or the performative grin he wears around his parents. It changes his entire face, erasing the sharp edges and making his eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that’s… cute.
He chuckles. “That doesn’t leave me many options.”
I tilt my head, considering. “Those too-short polyester pants you wore at the gala were deeply unsexy. Wear those.”
He shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I’d rather go naked.”
I half choke on an involuntary gasp.
His smile fades, replaced by that searching look again. Liam stands up from the bed and takes a step toward me.
“Are you attracted to me?” he asks.
The directness of the question almost knocks me over. He’s asking as if he genuinely doesn’t know the answer.
I could lie. I should lie.
“Yes.” The word escapes before I can stop it. “Against my better judgment. Because I don’t even like you.”
“You don’t know me,” he says softly. “You might like me if you gave me a chance.”
Is that meant to be reassuring? Because the concept of me liking him has the opposite effect. The only way to survive years living with this man is to keep my distance.
Liam scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t consider the consequences of living together when I proposed this,” Liam admits, his voice dropping to a register that vibrates in my toes.“I’m feeling the attraction too. But it wouldn’t be wise to follow through on it.”
“No,” I whisper. “You’re right.”
“We have to be a team.” He holds my gaze. “Partners in this deception. Getting physical would complicate everything. We can’t afford for it to go wrong and then really hate each other when we still have years of this charade ahead of us.”
“Your logic is impeccable.” I take a step back. “But you should say your wise, rational things in a less seductive voice.”
His lips twitch again. “Noted.”
“But I agree with you. I’m fresh out of a wrong relationship. The last thing I need is to jump headfirst into another complicated situation before I’ve even processed the first disaster.”
“What happened with your ex?” he asks gently.
I stare out the window; only dense forest lines this side of the house. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time. If nothing else, we should become friends. Partners. We’re going to be living together for years. We should be able to trust each other.”
Friends. The concept feels both safe and disappointing.
I slip away from him, crossing to the bed. I flop onto my side of the mattress, staring up at the ceiling with its recessed lighting and crown molding.