Page 118 of Fever Dream

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I shake my head as though that will help me gather my thoughts. Because I amnotthe kind of girl who gets all frilly and excited over boys.

Alas, here I am.

“What’s going to be my reason I’m suddenly chaste? Something that Dick Wad will buy.”

“Chaste?”

“Yeah, they’ve been on my ass all season to be more physical with the daters. But I…” His hand scrubs against the stubble on his jaw as he stares off, considering his next words. He lets loose a dry chuckle. “It’s funny, actually. I came on this show under the pretense of meeting someone. I thought that was an impossible task. But I did.”

His eyes flit back to mine. Piercing. “She’s just not a contestant.”

I try not to squirm. Instead, I gnash my molars against the inside of my cheek.

“Well, she…” I shift my weight, fingers flexing against the warm ceramic mug. “Doesn’t feel it’s her place to weigh in on this particular subject.”

Third person, Julia? Really?

His brows jump up in amusement. “And why is that?”

Dropping my gaze and my voice, I confess, “Because she knows how much is on the line for you and your family and would never get in the way of that.”

When I peek back up, he’s regarding me with a different expression. Something gentler—sadder.

Clearing my throat, I continue—like a fucking dork, in third person, because somehow one level of removal seems to make this conversation easier to have. “I think she would want you to do whatever it takes to fulfill your contract and get every last payment.” I glance down into the cup of creamy liquid, thumb brushing against the smooth glaze before quietly adding. “She would harbor no hard feelings but would rather not know about whatever goes on.”

The longer I talk, the lower his brows drop on his forehead until he’s practically glaring at me. My stomach twists as I wait with bated breath for him to do something other than look murderous.

“Is she here in the room with us?” Emmett asks, voice dangerously low.

God, I regret talking in the third person right now.

“Why?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Because I need to speak with her.”

A brittle laugh spills from my lips as I tip my head because this is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous.

But that doesn’t stop Emmett from standing, rounding the kitchen counter, and coming to tower over me with all that warm, firm skin. My eyes land on his chest, a dusting of hair over his pecs.

“Jules,” he says, using his fingers to tip my chin up. His baby blues are there, waiting for me, and fuck if I don’t get lost in them for a beat. “This thing we’re doing. It’s not for show. And I won’t be doingwhatever it takesto fulfill my contract. I will be doing the bare minimum, and whatever it takes to keep you. Just until this sham of a show is over. Then I’m all in.”

Blood rushes through my veins and pounds in my ears. God, he is so intense sometimes. It makes it too easy to gloss over the fact that this show isn’t over when filming wraps. His obligations extend out over a year.

But I don’t go there. We don’t go there. I just nod, feeling the brush of his thumb across the front of my chin.

“So I could claim I’ve found religion. Or say I’ve had some sort of moral awakening. Maybe I’m saving it for marriage now? I could even act like I’m favoring one woman and don’t want to betray her. Whatever it is, Richard will have to deal with it. I’ll show up for filming, and I will go on whatever outings they have planned for us, but anything beyond that…”

His thumb strums over my bottom lip, pulling it gently to the side as he stares at my mouth. “Anything beyond that is simply off the table. You got me?”

My tongue darts out, his gaze following the motion. “I got you,” I say back, the words weighing a little more in their duality.

I’ve got him.

“Good, because I think I need to be gentlemanly and lend you a hand like I mentioned before. Gotta keep you satisfied. I can’t have you eye-fucking me like this on the set.”

I suck in a breath, my body arching toward him on instinct. My skin sizzling under his threat. “It’s going to take more than a hand, Brandt.”

A slow smirk curves his lips. “Wanna bet?”