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“Every time.”
“And we didn’t.”
Nico blinked rapidly, then he held up a finger. “Ah, right. No, we didn’t, but no one really expected us to.”
“Because . . .? Do they think we’re schtupping other people?”
Nico laughed so hard, he dropped into the armchair with Luke. He immediately apologized and shifted, and Luke grabbed his arm, keeping him on the cushion.
Nico glanced down at Luke’s hand and swallowed. “They don’t expect us to join in because you’re not well-versed in our family traditions.”
Luke’s blood thrummed until he could hear his heart in his ears. It was the wine. It was Nico, making him feel like he stood on a live wire. He lowered his voice. “But I am now.”
“Hmm?” Nico wriggled next to him, like he was torn between jumping to his feet and twisting his body to face Luke’s.
“Will they do this again at brunch tomorrow?”
“I would think so. Yeah.”
“Which means they’ll assume I know what it means, and by our not kissing, they’ll figure out we’re not really dating.”
Nico sucked air through his teeth and avoided looking at Luke. “I doubt it. We haven’t been ‘dating’ long enough for it to apply to us. And besides,” he flashed Luke a grin, “I need to come clean at some point. If this makes them ask, it’ll be a good time to tell them the truth.”
In their almost two weeks together, Luke had realized Nico hid his emotions well—until you knew him better. Usually it was a small change in facial expression followed by an over-compensating smile. This mattered to Nico. He might think he should tell his family they weren’t dating, but he didn’t want to tell them.
The flush on Nico’s cheeks deepened.
Luke lifted a hand to Nico’s chin and steered his face around. Nico’s eyes were dark and glittery, and his lips parted—
Luke leaned forward and kissed him. Soft, at first. A question. Their breaths tangled, and Nico didn’t turn away.
Luke clasped the back of Nico’s neck and pressed their lips together again. A little moan slipped out of Nico, and the sound rippled shivers through Luke. He darted his tongue over Nico’s bottom lip—
Nico pulled back suddenly, whispering, “What are we doing?”
“Practicing.”
“Practicing?”
“When your family starts tapping wineglasses tomorrow, I don’t want it to be the first time we’ve kissed. It’ll be a dead giveaway. So . . . practice.”
Nico gnawed his lip as he processed the explanation. A small smile pulled at his lips. “Practice.”
Luke tilted forward. “Practice.”
Their lips met again, and Nico’s parted, inviting Luke to deepen the kiss.
A practice kiss. Fake.
But that didn’t stop Luke’s heart hammering at the feeling of Nico’s tongue sliding against his own. Didn’t stop him tasting the trace of sweet port and melting at Nico’s low groan. Didn’t stop his dick from getting fired up.
Nico returned the kiss, matching Luke for every thrust of his tongue. His hand slid around Luke’s waist, the warmth of his gripping fingers soaking into him.
Nico kissed Luke like he enjoyed what he was doing. If Luke ranked all the things he wanted from a boyfriend, a good kisser would be near the top. Kent had failed that requirement. He’d never seemed to like kissing. Never leaned into it as passionately as Nico was doing.
God, that was a huge turn-on. Of course his fake boyfriend had to tick that box.
Fake. Dammit. This couldn’t go on forever—no matter how easy it was. He was kissing Nico so they wouldn’t be awkward at brunch tomorrow. So they’d keep Nico’s nonna happy.
That was all.
That. Was. All.
Chapter Nine
Nico
Elisa: OMG, boo! I love it. So much better than the one she picked.
Nico: She didn’t know you like I do.
Elisa: This plus the flowers! You’re the best!
Nico: Just doing my job.
“Really?” Nico almost dropped the phone trying to access his calendar. “Sure, I can be there tomorrow at ten.”
Pen in hand, he grabbed a napkin and wrote down the name he’d been given. When he finished, he nodded. What a dork. Mrs. Esposito couldn’t see him over the phone. “Yes, got it. Thank you.”
He disconnected the call and tossed the phone on the couch. This was good. Well, he thought it was good. Elisa would complain, and Papà would ask—only half joking—why he was paying Nico.
“This calls for a celebration.” Saying that to an empty apartment killed the euphoria. “Or a run.”
Two plus weeks into his stint as a wedding planner, he’d finished most of his to-do list. Things would pick up the week before the wedding, but that was weeks away. He was getting bored.
Glancing at the clock on the microwave, he waffled on the run. His and Luke’s first two days back from New York, Luke had worked late. And texted Nico both times. It was very considerate, but also a bit curious. Had their fake kissing made Luke leery of coming home?
