Page 21 of Insta Bride
“So, what do I do?”
“Everyone has fallen in love with Elena. Guess, it’s time for you to decide whether or not you want to join the party.”
Shit.
Elena
“Are you okay?” I asked Kye as he collapsed on the sand next to me after a run along the beach. His bare chest dripping with sweat—in a sexy way—and puffing from exhaustion. Yes, I’d been prepared for this situation with chilled bottle water. What I hadn’t expected was for him to plank over me.
“Yes, or no?” Kye’s grey eyes narrowed, softened as he dipped lower. The smell of arousal and sweat overwhelming my senses and eroding my common sense. I could enjoy his firm body caging me on the sand, or just focus on his full lips. Moist. Kissable.
“You’ll have to be more precise.” My voice barely louder than my pounding chest.
“About?”
“The question.” I faked a cool detachment, aiming for off-handed banter. Women had been faking orgasms since the beginning of time. How hard could it be to fake feeling nothing? “It’s simple, really. What’s the question and I’ll tell you yes or no.”
“The question is, you and me?”
Since I’d gone toe-to-toe with Campbell, Kye had upped his game. Charming. Flirting. All-encompassing attention.
“Asked and answered. We’ve been paired.”
“For the show,” he clarified.
“Until you get a chance to trade me in for one of the plastic dolls that you can’t keep away from. Which one will it be?”
“What if I don’t want to trade you for anyone?”
I scoffed and tried to wriggle away before he lowered, pinning my body without touching. How long could he hold the plank for? His arms weren’t even buckling.
“What if you’re the one?” he said, his lips close enough to kiss.
“Really?” I tried to giggle, not to take his words seriously. “You have flirted with every woman here.” I pressed against his chest half-heartedly trying to push him away. “They’re your type. I’m not.”
“Maybe dating who I thought was my type got me here.”
“Oh gee, and I thought it was your need for public adoration! The need for followers, likes and women to fall at your feet.”
“You haven’t fallen at my feet.”
“That’s because I have a brain.”
“A brain?” His mouth turned into a smirk. Even cardiologist Leesa tried to play down her intellect. I didn’t care to feed the stereotype of women needing to appear dumber than her man.
“Yes, a brain.”
“We should talk about that. Where you live, what you do.”
His arms started to wobble, and I felt a rush of panic and pleasure at the thought of him collapsing. Would my knees automatically spread for him? Would I hold him in place? Or push him away?
“First, before we start the talking, can I kiss you?” He asked and I immediately thought of the microphones. Bastard. This was all for show.
“No.”
“Really?”
“Thank you for asking. It makes a pleasant change, but no. You cannot kiss me.”