Best Friend Bride. Kat Cantrell

shop is my life.”

      For some reason, that pleased him enormously. Though he shouldn’t be so happy that they were cut from the same workaholic cloth. “For me, too. We’ll be nervous together.”

      But then he already knew she had a lack in her social life since she’d readily agreed to this sham marriage, telling him she was too busy to date. Maybe together, they could find ways to work less. To put finer pleasures first, just for the interim while they were living together. That could definitely be one of the benefits of their friendship.

      She rolled her eyes. “You’re not nervous. But you’re sweet to say so.”

      Maybe not nervous. But something.

      His palms itched and he knew good and well the only way to cure that was to put them on her bare arms so he could test out the feel of her skin. It looked soft.

      Wasn’t the point of the date to touch her? He had every reason to do exactly that. The urge to reach out grew bigger and rawer with each passing second.

      “Maybe we could start the date right now?” she suggested, and all at once, the hallway outside her room got very small as she stepped closer, engulfing him in lavender that could only be her soap.

      His body reacted accordingly, treating him to some more made-up images of her in the shower, and now that he had a scent to associate with it, the spike through his gut was that much more powerful. And that much more of a huge warning sign that things were spiraling out of control. He just couldn’t see a good way to stop.

      “Yeah?” he murmured, his throat raw with unfulfilled need. “Which part?”

      There was no mistaking what she had in mind when she reached out to graze her fingertips across his cheek. Nerve endings fired under her touch and he leaned into her palm, craving more of her.

      “The only part that matters,” she whispered back. “The part where you don’t even think twice about getting close to me. Where it’s no big thing if you put your arm around my waist or steal a kiss as I walk by.”

      If that was the goal, he was failing miserably because it was a big thing. A huge thing. And getting bigger as she leaned in, apparently oblivious to the way her lithe body brushed against his. His control snapped.

      Before he came up with reasons why he shouldn’t, he pulled her into his arms. Her mouth rose to meet his and, when it did, dropped them both into a long kiss. More than a kiss. An exploration.

      With no witnesses this time, he had free rein to delve far deeper into the wonders of his wife than he had at the wedding ceremony.

      Her enthusiastic response was killing him. His response was even worse. How had they been friends for so long without ever crossing this line? Well, he knew how—because if they had, he would have run in the other direction.

      He groaned as her fingers threaded through his hair, sensitizing everything she touched. Then she iced that cake with a tentative push of her tongue that nearly put him on his knees. So unexpected and so very hot. Eagerly, he matched her sweet thrust with his own. Deeper and deeper they spiraled until he couldn’t have said which way was up. Who was doing the giving and who was greedily lapping it up.

      He wanted more and took it, easing her head back with firm fingers until he found the right angle to get more of her against his tongue. And now he wanted more of her against his body.

      He slid a hand down the curve of her spine until he hit a spot that his palm fit into and pressed until her hips nestled against his erection. Amazing. Perfect.

      The opposite of friendly.

      That was enough to get his brain in gear again. This was not how it should be between them, with all this raw need that he couldn’t control.

      He ended the kiss through some force of will he’d never understand and pulled back, but she tried to follow, nearly knocking herself off balance. Like she had at the ceremony. And in a similar fashion, he gripped her arms to keep her off the floor. It was dizzying how caught up she seemed to get. A rush he could get used to and shouldn’t.

      “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I got a little carried away.”

      “That’s what was supposed to happen,” she informed him breathlessly, “if we have any hope of your grandfather believing that we’re deliriously happy together.”

      Yeah, that wasn’t the problem he was most worried about at this moment. Viv’s kiss-swollen lips were the color of raspberries and twice as tempting. All for show. He’d gotten caught up in the playacting far too easily, which wasn’t fair to her. Or to his Viv-starved body that had suddenly found something it liked better than her cupcakes.

      “I don’t think anyone would question whether we spark, Viv,” he muttered.

      The real issue was that he needed to kill that spark and was pretty certain that would be impossible now.

      Especially given the way she was gazing up at him with something a whole lot hotter than warmth in her brown eyes. She’d liked kissing him as much as he’d liked it. She might even be on board with taking things a step further. But they couldn’t consummate this marriage or he could forget the annulment. Neither did he want to lead her on, which left him between a rock and an extremely hard place that felt like it would never be anything but hard for the rest of his life.

      “In fact,” he continued, “we should really keep things platonic behind closed doors. That’s better for our friendship, don’t you think?”

      He’d kissed his wife and put his hands on her body because she’d told him to. And he was very much afraid he’d do it again whether it was for show or not unless he had some boundaries. Walking away from Viv wasn’t an option. He had to do something that guaranteed he never got so sucked into a woman that she had power over his emotional center.

      Thankfully, she nodded. “Whatever works best for you, Jonas. This is your fake marriage.”

      And how messed up was it that he was more than a little disappointed she’d agreed so readily?