Except when she loops her arm through mine and leans in close, her breath warm against my jaw.
“Smile, Jack,” she whispers. “You look like you’re about to bite someone.”
“I might,” I mutter. “Starting with you.”
She grins. “That supposed to scare me?”
“Wasn’t meant to.”
She leans in a little more, pressing against me like she’s playing a game. “Good.”
I’ve made furniture with less tension than what’s building between us.
Dinner is a blur. Too many people. Too much noise. Too much of her skin brushing mine every time she laughs at something that isn’t remotely funny. And when I feel her hand rest on my thigh under the table, I damn near forget how to breathe.
“You’re playing with fire,” I murmur, low enough that only she hears.
Her fingers tighten slightly. “You’re the one who brought a match to the wedding.”
I turn my head. Our eyes lock. Something pulses hot and dangerous between us.
“Keep it up and I’ll show you exactly what happens when I burn.”
She just smiles and pops a piece of bread into her mouth. Tease.
Later, when the music starts, I think I’ll get a reprieve.
Wrong.
“You owe me a dance,” she says, standing and offering her hand.
I blink. “I don’t dance.”
“You do tonight.”
I stare at her for three full seconds. She doesn’t flinch. Not even a little.
God, I hate how much I like that.
I take her hand and let her lead me to the floor, where couples sway under strings of lights. She turns to face me, smug and stunning, and places my hand on her waist.
“This is the part where you pretend to be having a good time.”
“I don’t fake anything,” I say, pulling her closer. “Including this.”
She stumbles slightly when our bodies meet, and her hands land on my chest. Her eyes flick up, and something shifts. The teasing fades. Her lips part.
My fingers flex against the small of her back. She’s warm, soft, infuriatingly close. I shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t eventhinkabout doing it.
But then she tilts her face up, and I’m gone.
I lower my head. Brush my lips against hers. Not a kiss—a warning.
She gasps, and I take it deeper.
Our fake relationship shatters in that moment.
There’s nothing fake about the way she melts into me. Nothing fake about the soft sound she makes in the back of her throat. Nothing fake about the way her fingers curl into my jacket like sheneedsme.
