The End of Faking It. Natalie Anderson

endings yearning to feel the pressure of Carter’s mouth on hers again.

      But then she stared at her surface-repaired reflection. Was he right? Had she been stringing Aaron along? She hated the way Carter had spoken to him but had she been any better? She could have made it clearer—interrupted him and spoken firmly. Only she had that memory, when she’d inflicted so much pain. It was why she was always so careful to establish the ground rules before she entered any kind of affair now. It was why her affairs were so few and far between and super-brief. She had to be careful because she couldn’t handle anything more than easy. Anything more than carefree. No pain, just frivolity and superficial pleasure. She enjoyed sex. She didn’t have it anywhere near often enough despite her many nights out dancing, preferring to keep safe in all kinds of ways. But this attraction to Carter was the most extreme thing she’d ever experienced.

      He’d offered all she wanted—only the physical—no strings, no messiness. There was certainly no fledgling friendship there, not when he obviously thought she was a manipulative tease. She saw how he looked at her, as if she made him as angry as much as she turned him on. Well, she knew exactly how he felt.

      But her reaction to him was too strong to be safe. When emotions were out of control, people got hurt. She wasn’t hurting anyone or being hurt ever again. That was her one hard-and-fast rule. And this attraction threatened every ounce of control she had—therefore was too dangerous to engage.

      But he was absolute temptation.

      She shook her head, overruling her warring instincts. He wasn’t that overwhelming. Her attraction to him was simply a case of it having been too long. Of course she swooned for tall, dark and handsome, any other red-blooded female would too. Except Carter didn’t just have those three attributes, he also had a carefree lack of cut to his hair, wicked brilliance in his eyes and the devil in his smile….

      Ugh. She turned her back on the mirror and walked out. He was just incredibly overconfident. He probably wouldn’t even deliver on the promise he exuded. Because in truth, for Penny, no man delivered.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘CHAMPAGNE please.’ Nine hours of work and thirty lengths of the pool later, Penny had changed into her clubbing gear, heel-tapped her way into the bar and been served ahead of eight people already queued there.

      ‘So you’re friends with the bartenders.’

      ‘And the DJs.’ She took her glass and turned to face Carter. ‘And the bouncers,’ she added with just that little bit of emphasis.

      His grin flashed. ‘Really? I thought you didn’t like bullies tossing people out of your life.’