He continued the speech, citing some funny moments in Gracie and Des's relationship, but Libby's head swam, blocking out the anecdotes and laughter at the table. She'd never been anyone's inspiration before. Hell, she'd never been anything but a temporary situation to the people in her life … aside from Nina. She'd been a temporary child until her mother had one she planned for, a temporary daughter to her father who wanted a carbon copy of himself, a temporary girlfriend to her ex until he grew tired of her.
As Paul finished his speech Libby clapped so hard her palms stung. "That was beautiful."
He shrugged. "Just doing my job."
Was that all it was? Sweet words for the sake of his family? Libby knew one thing for certain, she needed to know how Paul felt. How he really felt underneath the fake engagement and the layer of emotional protection he'd built.
She would find out before this wedding was over.
Paul plied himself with alcohol after the speech. The words hadn't seemed so raw when he'd written them in haste, shocked by how cathartic it felt to get all that crap out of his head and onto a page.
He'd also needed a few beers in him to distract himself from Libby and the way she watched him like a hawk. Had the speech freaked her out? Probably. Did he care? No. They were out in the open now and, if she questioned him, then he'd use Gracie and Des as an excuse.
Before meeting Libby he would never have given a speech like that, but being with her had made him appreciate how good he had it. His family wasn't perfect by any stretch, but they were his.
"That dessert was amazing," Libby said as the waiters came to clear the last plates. "I'm not going to fit into my dress tomorrow."
"I am! I don't care if it takes five people to stuff me into the damn thing." Gracie chuckled. "There's so much boning in the corset I may not be able to breathe, anyway."
The girls hugged as the guests parted ways, and Libby looped her arm through Paul's. She wobbled on her heels as they made their way back to the room.
"Have a bit to drink, did you?" he asked.
She moaned. "They kept topping up my glass so I have no idea how much I had. If I have a hangover tomorrow just kill me and put me out of my misery."
"You won't be much use to me then." Electricity sizzled along his arm where she held onto him for support.
"I'm not much use to anyone," she muttered.
They arrived at the hotel room and Paul held Libby up with one arm while he opened the door. "Why would you say that?"
"Didn't you hear what I said before?" She spat the words out, her features twisted. "He said I'm wasting my life."
"Yes, and you agreed to talk to him. That doesn't change because you've had a few drinks."
Libby tripped on the carpet, and Paul steadied her before scooping her up into his arms and kicking the door closed behind them.
"You don't need to carry me," she said, wriggling in his grip.
"Since you can't even walk through a doorway in your current state … yes, I do." He set her down on the edge of the bed and caught a foot in his hand, fiddling with the buckle at her ankle. "Why do you have to wear these damn fiddly shoes?"
"They're pretty." She flopped back and flung an arm over her eyes. "Tell the room to stop spinning."
"You'll be all right. I'll get you a glass of water once you're out of the shoes." He handled her as gently as he could when her body hung like a ragdoll over the edge of the bed.
By the time he'd returned with her water, Libby had stripped and crawled into bed. Her naked body was mostly covered by the thick white sheet, but his mind knew exactly how to fill in the blanks. He knew how smooth and soft her thighs felt, how she had a smattering of light freckles all over her body, how her nipples were perfectly rosy and responsive.
"Here." He helped her to sit up and handed her the water. "Drink it slowly."
She sipped, holding the glass in one hand and the sheet with her other hand. "I don't want you to sleep on the couch tonight."
"You're drunk," he pointed out.
"Tipsy," she corrected. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered.
For someone who pulled sex off the table at the outset, she'd certainly done a one-eighty. Not that he was complaining, but the idea of sex with her now felt loaded. Dangerous.
Who the hell are you anymore?
"Good night." He pressed his lips to her forehead and stood, shrugging out of his jacket. "Make sure you drink plenty of water."
Her still made-up eyes had fluttered closed, her features softened. He'd always scoffed at those who referred to people as angels when they slept, but Libby may as well have been wrapped up in big golden wings.
He snapped the light off and undressed in the dark. The bed squeaked as Libby shifted and he made his way to the couch.
You're turning into a sap, Chapman. Get your head out of the clouds and back to reality-this is not a relationship.
Chapter Fourteen
Paul's eyes opened but no light greeted him. He blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness while wondering why the hell he was awake. His neck ached from where he'd fallen asleep at a strange angle on the couch, the throw cushion acting as his pillow nowhere to be found.
He pushed up into a sitting position and kneaded the knot in his neck. Perhaps he should have taken Libby up on her offer to share the bed.
The sound of a door closing caught his attention, then a thin beam of light filtered out from under the bathroom door. He must have heard Libby getting out of bed. Strange, since his family joked that he could easily sleep through a monster truck rally.
He walked over to the bathroom as she opened the door with a fresh glass of water in her hand.
"How are you feeling?"
"Oh!" She shook her head. "You startled me."
The bathroom light fell into the room, outlining the curves of her silhouette and catching the red-gold edges of her hair. She'd thrown on a T-shirt at some point and it came down to the tops of her thighs, leaving miles of shapely legs exposed.
"I'm fine." She sipped her water and leaned against the doorframe. "I've got a bit of a headache, but otherwise I'm good as new."
Her eyes skimmed over him, catching on the only item of clothing he wore-a pair of boxer briefs. Shadows obscured her face, but nothing could hide the sharp intake of her breath in the silent room.
"You should get back to bed," he said, swallowing against the flood of desire that raged in him. He burned from the inside out, his skin begging to have her hands on him.
"You should come with me."
"Libby," he warned. "I don't want to take advantage of you."
"I wish you would." She stepped closer and touched her palm to his bare chest. "I'm not drunk, and I'm perfectly capable of voicing what I want."
He took the glass from her hand and guided her back to the bed. "What do you want, Tiger?"
She dropped down to the mattress, pulling him with her until he knelt over her, nudging her thighs apart with his knees. "To pretend we're not pretending … just for tonight."
Before he could protest she looped her arms around his neck and dragged his head down to hers. He feasted on her mouth, greedily seeking out her tongue, sucking on her lower lip and dragging it between his teeth. Nothing about this was pretend.
"Libby." He pulled his head back, trying to think through the fog of arousal that engulfed him. "We can't-"
"Shhh." She pressed a finger to his lips.
He buried his face in her neck, feeling the flutter of her pulse against his lips. His hand caught the hem of her T-shirt and dragged it up, exposing her pale skin to the moonlight. Heat flared within him like a fire blazing out of control. She fanned him. Heightened his senses. Filled him with burning power.
Tossing the T-shirt over the side of the bed, he brought his head down to one breast. Above him, her soft moan made a tremor run down his spine. She fisted her hand in his hair and arched against him.
"Let's go slow and enjoy it." He moved to the other breast, lavishing attention on the nipple with his tongue.
"I lose control with you." She ran her hands over his shoulders and scraped her nails along his skin.
"Me too."
He kissed his way down the plane of her belly, relishing the feel of her soft skin against his lips. Something told him that tonight was his last chance to hold her in his arms before reality came crushing down on them both in the morning. So he would pretend, as she'd asked, and deal with the fallout tomorrow.
He pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh, skirting around her heat. Making her wait. Drawing out the moment that they would drown together.
When he moved his mouth to her sex, she cried out and the sound shattered something inside him. He couldn't wait, didn't want to. Every second with Libby was a precious gift that would soon expire. He focused on her center, feeling the quake in her thighs, pushing her higher and higher until she broke.