She offered a weak smile in what she hoped would pass for agreement, but really, her stomach was in knots. Nothing about this felt simple anymore. She cleared her throat and pulled away from him, and this time he let her go.
“But, it’s not simple anymore,” she said after a beat, reaching for an ornament and hanging it on a branch, barely paying attention to the act.
Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of the way he crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue. She turned to look at him and her heart gave a little jump, leaving her in little doubt of why everything had become more complicated.
“We weren’t supposed to sleep together,” she pointed out, taking another ornament and palming it softly, feeling the ridges of the glass and the velvety softness of its loop.
“No,” he agreed, uncrossing his arms and moving towards her. When she didn’t speak, he took the ornament from her fingertips and laid it back in the box, watching her until she turned to look at him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Her mouth was parched, and a high-pitched screeching had begun to ring in her ears. Words she’d never said to a man before suddenly started to spin through her head, tormenting her with their aptness, begging to be thrown into the air. I love you, I love you, I love you. But fear clamoured in her belly, because he’d been so clear about his feelings on relationships, and she had no idea if he was even capable of feeling the same way after what he’d been through with Clare.
Besides, it wasn’t as though she was without fear herself. She had planned the life she’d wanted for a long time, and to admit she loved Matthieu threw all her plans to the wind. She gaped, searching for words, and struggling.
“Do you want to stop sleeping together?”
Agony made her stomach roll. She shook her head wordlessly. That was the last thing she wanted.
“But you want to know you’re not going to be hurt when this ends?” He guessed, so, so accurately, as though he had a hotwire into her brain and heart.
She blinked away tears, moving her gaze to the tree. “It’s just different now.”
“Yes.” The air charged with electricity and then he sighed. “For me, too.”
She jerked her face back to his, her eyes roaming his features. “Oh?”
He lifted a hand to her cheek. “I like being your fake fiancé, even more than I thought I would,” he admitted. “And that has nothing to do with my grandmother’s ultimatum, nor her expectations. I just like being with you.” He frowned then, taking a step backwards. “But I’m still the same man who propositioned you at the start of all this. A fake engagement and casual sex is all I can offer.” He angled his face away a moment. “It’s all I want,” he added firmly, turning back to face her. “If that’s not okay with you, tell me now, and we’ll both walk away.”
She swallowed past a lump in her throat, the cutthroat nature of his remark leaving her in little doubt as to his feelings. He didn’t love her. And she knew, without any doubt, that she did love him. Or this wouldn’t hurt so damned much.
“It’s okay,” she said, furious at herself for the surrender, even whilst acknowledging the inevitability of it. But how could she walk away from him? She would, when the time came, but for now, she’d take whatever she could get, and when this ended, she’d hold these memories close to her heart, to sustain her through the rest of her life. “That was our deal, right?”
For a moment, he looked uncertain, as though he were going to challenge her, then he swept her into his arms and kissed her, the tree forgotten, their mutual passion making it impossible to think of anything besides their desperate need to come together, to be one, in the face of the ticking time bomb that was the inevitable end of their relationship.
“You’re nervous?”He asked, reaching out and rubbing a hand over her knee as the helicopter drew closer to his grandparents’ home.
“Do you blame me?” She asked, fixing him with a level stare, her eyes drifting from him to the magnificent home, then back to him. The whirring of the rotor blades was rhythmic but to Skye, it was like the beating of a drum, drawing her closer and closer to impending disaster.
He pressed his lips together, his expression unreadable. “Would you rather not go?”
She stared at him, the wheels in her brain spinning quickly. “Are you kidding? Isn’t this the whole point?” She gestured to the home beneath them, where the Christmas preparations would be in full flight, the party due to begin anytime now.
“Sure, but after the way my aunt was with you last time…”
Skye pulled a face. “Your aunt’s something else, but honestly, I had fun with Fleur the other day, and I really like your grandparents.” She shrugged.
“Then why do you look as though you’ve seen a ghost?”
Her eyes flew to his face, wide and round. “I’m—well, it’s just, it’s the first time we’ll be around a lot of people. Including—,”
She hesitated.
“Clare,” he supplied grimly.
“Right. And everyone will be comparing her and me and—,”
“And wondering how I got so lucky as to convince you to fall in love with me,” he said simply.
Her pulse thundered through her veins. “What?”