Page 138 of Fake it ’Til Fall

Then she pulls back.

Not far.

Just enough to breathe.

Her eyes open slowly.

Wide.

Stunned.

A little furious, like I’ve created a scheduling conflict in her nervous system.

“That,” she whispers, “was not in the contract.”

“No.”

“We had rules.”

“Still do.”

“You kissed me.”

“You stepped closer.”

“I was investigating.”

“With your mouth?”

“It’s a valid research method.”

“Do you regret it?”

Chapter Eighteen

Forrest

“Do you regret it?”

The question gets out before I can make it sound like I don’t care.

I do care.

Too damn much, apparently, because Daisy is standing in front of me in the bedroom she grew up in, rain ticking against the window, her mouth still swollen from mine, her cheeks bright with heat, her hands curled in my shirt like some part of her hasn’t received the order to let go.

For one second, she says nothing.

That second takes a year off my life.

Then her eyes narrow.

“Do I look like I regret it?”

“No.”

“Then why would you ask that?”

“Because you looked stunned.”