“Your fake boyfriend has to kiss you after that one. In case Saltzy and Caulfield heard a word of that.”
I don’t wait for her to answer. I slide my hands against her cheeks, letting my fingers slide through her soft hair, and press my mouth to hers. She’s stiff at first, like she’s trying to fight whatever this is between us, but the second my lips fall from hers and I move to kiss her again, she’s made up her mind.
Her hands slide to my forearms, her kiss finding its spark. It hits the gasoline that I’m made of and ignites. I push her back a bit, just so I can really kiss her, and I smother the soft moan that she whispers into my mouth.
I taste the red wine on her tongue and get drunk on the way that colour will never again mean anything besidesherever again.
All of the blood in my body rushes to my dick.
It’s me and her and this mouth. Those are the only things I can think about when the flavour of her cherry lip glossseeps past my lips, and when her nails scrape against the skin of my arms. There is nothing, and I meannothing,fake about what this woman does to me without even trying.
It almost kills me when she pulls away. She moves back just enough to force my lips from hers, but she stays close. Mouth plump and swollen, marked by me. Face suddenly shy. She blinks up at me through her lashes.
“You shouldn’t do that.”
I’m still holding her face, and I make no move to let her go. I drop my forehead to hers, and it’s immediately clear I’m not alone in what I’m feeling when her eyes flutter shut.
“I have no impulse control,” I remind her, my voice raspy now. “It’s kind of how we wound up in this situation.”
“Fuck,” she whispers under her breath.
There is something so hot about that moment. The way that word slips through her lips like she’s scorning herself, like she’s mad at me for acting on something that we were both desperate to feel. It’s a harsh word. My favourite word. It’s so tempting slipping out of the softest mouth I’ve ever touched.
“We should go back inside.”
I flinch, falling back onto the couch, tilting my head to the sky. The moment is over. The wall is back up between us. We’re faux boyfriend and girlfriend again, and everything else that happens for the rest of this night will be an act. That was the only real moment we’ll be having, even when the lines are getting kind of hazy for me.
“You cooled off?” I ask, glancing at her.
Her eyes snap open, locking onto me. “Not at all.”
I can’t help it, a smug smile pulls at my lips. “My bad.”
“Yeah, ‘your bad’is right.” Saltzy’s voice slides through our moment. I look over my shoulder to see him and Caulfield strolling back inside the house. He glowers at me, which is a bit rich, since I am fairly certain that I know what he was out herefor. “We’ve been standing here for ten minutes debating on if going inside would ruin your moment.”
“Iwas debating,” Caulfield corrects, hands buried in his pockets.
“Yeah, I was getting awfully parched and impatient.”
“Understatement,” Wyatt grumbles, glancing at Saltzy. His amused, crooked smile widens when Callum glares at him. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, Cal—but you’re a miserable drunk.”
I lean my head back and bark a laugh, swiping my drink off the table and raising it to Wyatt.
“Amen!”
Saltzy’s cold look cuts to me, and I immediately drop my gaze and stare at my lap like a kid because fuck, he’s still my captain, and his dad is still Gene Saltzman.
“Let’s get you a drink,” Wyatt says, smacking Cal on the back.
They enter the house together, and when I turn back toward Arden, she’s watching them go with a thoughtful expression on her face. I wonder for a quick moment if she’s the most perceptive person on the planet. When she looks back at me, I expect her to ask me the question that’s been running through my head for months, but she just smiles a soft smile and nods toward the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
arden
“Things seem to be going well.”
I glance up from the chart. Autumn is watching me carefully. She looks tired, the poor girl. She’s on a rotation of nights from hell, and I think it’s finally catching up to her.
