Page 65 of Bound To Be Mine

Our eyes met, and even through the video, even through my alcohol-hazed memory, I could see something pass between us. Something real.

He stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup my face. Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t a quick peck. It wasn’t a performative kiss for the camera or for Elvis or for anyone else. It was deep. Thorough. The kind of kiss a man gave his new bride.

I kissed him back like my life depended on it.

The video ended there, cutting to black.

I sat frozen on the couch, my heart racing. The room felt too small suddenly, the air too thick.

“Well,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “There you go.”

I turned to look at him. He was already looking at me.

The expression on his face mirrored the one from the video. That same intensity. That same focus. What did that mean?

“We kissed like that,” he said quietly. “And I don’t remember it.”

“Neither do I.”

“That’s a shame.” His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Because it looked like a pretty damn good kiss.”

My pulse was thundering in my ears. “It did.”

“I wonder if it would be the same sober.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh yes.

This was dangerous territory. This was exactly the kind of territory we needed to avoid. We were supposed to be keeping this professional. Maintaining boundaries. It was all fake. A business arrangement.

But I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I heard myself say.

Briggs’s eyes snapped back to mine. “Mandy.”

“What?”

“We shouldn’t.”

“But we already did,” I said.

“This is a terrible idea,” he said, but he was leaning closer.

“The worst,” I agreed, tilting my face up toward his.

“We have a contract.”

“We have several contracts—none of them signed by the way.” His hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “Last chance to back out.”

“I don’t want to back out.”

“Thank God,” he breathed, and then his mouth was on mine.