Request and consent in place, I stop thinking and act on instinct. I sift my fingers into her hair, lightly cupping her face. Her breathing shallows as I lean in, and she rises up to meet me.Our mouths touch and press in the softest, gentlest kiss. Another. More.
I can’t deny this kiss any more than I can control my racing heart, but I’m determined to follow her lead. I won’t take what I want from Rose, but I’ll give her anything she asks for. She shifts closer, pressing her body to me, her arms looping around my neck. Her lips part, and I think I stop breathing. In an instant, I know I’ll never forget the taste of honey mixed with lavender on her tongue.
This might be the worst mistake I’ve made. Certainly the most self-destructive one. Heartache waits for me around the corner, and indulging in kissing Rose—learning the soft sounds she makes, the gentle touch of her mouth, the feel of her fingers scrabbling over my shoulders—will only heap on more pain in the end. But I won’t stop until she does. Not when this might be the only chance I get.
Her hand splays over the back of my neck, her fingers brushing the hair at my nape upward. The sensation radiates heat down my spine. I can’t hold back a groan. She gasps in turn, drawing back enough to break the kiss.
I promised myself to let her lead, but it’s taking all my willpower not to reel her back in for more. Blood races through my veins, hot and insistent. Her wide blue eyes gaze up at me, pupils blown wide, lashes fluttering. Her breath fans over my face, warm and sweet.
“Okay.” Her breathy voice makes something in my throat constrict. She drags her hands down until they rest on my chest. She lifts one, patting me right over my thundering heart. “I, uh. I think we’re good.”
So do I. Better than good. The perfect fit. But I know that isn’t what she means. She means we don’t need to practice anymore.
She steps back, drawing out of my arms. My chest squeezes like something critical in there has shifted out of place with the loss of her.
Her shy smile peeks back out. “I’ll see you soon.”
She gets into her car, smoothing her hands through her hair a couple of times before she starts the engine. She pulls away from the curb, waving to me through the rear window. I lift a hand as her car drives off.
I heave a sigh, raking both hands through my hair. Nathan’s right. I’m fooling myself if I think my feelings aren’t involved.
20
rose
This iswhy I’m not really a planner. I think I have a plan. I get excited about the plan. I go for the plan. And then all the ramifications of the plan hit me in the face like bugs splattering a windshield.
I’m sitting in Reed’s Bronco, on our way to his parents’ house, trying not to look like I’m still reliving our kiss from this morning. I’m calm and collected and totally not fizzy with warmth as my brain plays my favorite highlight reel for the millionth time.
See, I honestly thoughtheneeded the practice. He was so stiff and awkward after I kissed his cheek the other day, I assumed he wasn’t comfortable enough with me to make a convincing couple. I actually believed he needed my coaching to get him to relax.
Um, no. He needed no help in that department. He gotmeto relax so totally, I forgot we were only kissing “to practice.” I forgot he’s only in this fake relationship with me because I couldn’t tell my parents the truth. I especially forgot that I can’t be that woman who develops real feelings for the man who only agreed to pretend to date her.
It would be humiliatingly on-brand with my “doing too much” theme, though.
“Everything good?” He’s got that line between his eyebrowsagain, his concern only adding to the sparklers going off inside my ribcage.
“Mmm-hmm.”Just thinking about practice-kissing you until I become a pro with stadiums named after me to honor my skills.The usual.
“You’re quiet.” He grips the steering wheel tighter, the vinyl squeaking beneath his palms. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can tell them you caught a summer cold or something. They’ll understand.”
“No, I want to go.” His family looks so wonderful from the outside, I’m dying to see what they’re really like on the inside. I want a behind-the-scenes peek at the loving chaos I’ve glimpsed in the coffee shop. “I just want them to like me.”
The need for every last Bridger’s approval rises up inside me like a kraken from the deep. I’ve never been introduced to a boyfriend’s relatives this way before, and the “fake” label doesn’t change the fact I’m about to spend the evening with Reed’s entire family. They’re so sweet and fun—I’m desperate for them to think the same of me.
His exhale borders on a laugh. “That’s not a problem. They already think you’re perfect.”
“Perfect is a strong word.” One of my mother’s favorites, FYI. Easy to say, hard to live up to. More of a requirement than a compliment.
“I can show you Jovie’s texts to prove it.”
I spin the jar of honey I bought, sunlight dancing through it to fill the car with a golden glow. “I have a feeling she’s been known to exaggerate.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t. And I think you’re perfect, too.”
I shift in the passenger seat, resting my temple on the headrest. Reed stares straight ahead, his throat working as he swallows. It’s probably a good thing he’s paying attention to the road and not the heart-eyes I’m aiming his direction.
Perfect is still too much, but coming from a guy who doesn’t hand out compliments easily, it means everything.
