Page 19 of Double Standard

“Well, you,” she says, looping her arms behind my neck, “might be the only one special enough to see it.”

I close the remaining distance between us and bring my hips flush against hers. Something is happening here. The air is thick with it—anticipation, curiosity, all the caution we both seem to be throwing to the wind. I expect her to pull away, to remind me, or herself, that this isn’t something we’re supposed to do.

But she doesn’t. She wraps her legs around my waist, so I hover my mouth over hers, with just a breath of space between her lips and mine. While I wait—to see if she’ll lean forward or if I’ll have the courage to close the gap myself—I pluck at my last thread of reason. If we kiss, it’ll make our chemistry more believable in public. If wekiss, maybe this desire that’s starting to boil in my chest will slow to a simmer. Maybe it’ll be easier to control. The thread snaps. “Can I kiss you?” I ask.

Her “yes” comes out like a prayer as I settle my mouth on hers.There’s less pressure without the cameras.Or is there more pressure without the cameras?

I bring a hand to cradle her jaw and angle her face for a deeper kiss. She parts my mouth with her tongue, and a groan echoes from my lungs as we settle into a rhythm—pushing and pulling, giving and taking, asking and responding. As she rakes a hand through my hair, she keeps her mouth tight to mine, breaking only to run her lips over the length of my jaw, to bite softly on my earlobe before soothing it with a soft suck.

Then it’s tangled tongues, sighs, and the grip of her teeth on my bottom lip. Wandering fingertips and stroking skin, the front of my jeans growing tighter when she whimpers under my touch. It’s new and familiar, comfortable and maybe the scariest thing I’ve ever done, kissing her like this.

It’s not fake.

It’seasy.

After a minute, maybe ten, Ana pulls her lips from my neck with a quiet pop and leans back on her hands to catch my gaze. Her cheeks are pink, her hair is mussed, and she’s glowing. Absolutely, overwhelmingly beautiful.

“I promised I was going to feed you dinner,” I say,forcing my focus back to the kitchen. We glance at the half-prepped pizza dough behind her. She reaches to her left and plucks a knife from the block.

“Then start slicing the mozzarella, Levi. If you stay on my side of the kitchen, I can’t promise we’ll get to the food. The rest of this,” she circles her finger between us, “can wait.”

I steal one more quick kiss before asking, “And what is it we’re doing here? What isthis?”

“Hmmm.” She bites her cheek. “I think we’re playing house.” She sets down the knife and brings her hands to mine. I nod. I see what she’s doing here. She knows as well as I do that we’re not playing, but sure, I can tag along with the lie.

A breath blows out of me as I peel myself from between her legs, my fingers lingering on her thighs until the last possible moment. I grab the cheese and unwrap it, never breaking eye contact with her as I do. “Then I’ll get to slicing.”

“You were right about the fresh mozzarella,” I say to Ana, who’s finishing a slice of pizza while sitting on the other end of the couch, her legs draped over mine.

She smiles and wags her brows. “I’m always right.”

I grip her foot in one hand and run my thumb along the sole, tickling until she pulls away with a shriek.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” She sets her plate on the coffee table and bends forward to sink a hand to the top of my thigh, just above my knee. She squeezes, and I try not to react, but the grin twitching at my lips begs to be set free.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Barlow.” I steal her hand from my leg and wrap it in my palm. She shifts closer to me and lays her head on my shoulder. A wave of coconut from her hair mingles with the scent of freshly baked dough, and I know it’s a smell I’ll be nostalgic about for the rest of my life.

“Thank you for this,” she says with a contented sigh. Its effect is like a weighted blanket, calming my mind, which has been bouncing back and forth about whether we’re crossing a line we shouldn’t.

She curls her legs under her. “For today. Tonight. It’s not often that I get to do ‘normal’ stuff like this. I’m starting to realize how rare it is that I can actually relax.” She runs her thumb over my hand, an absentminded touch. “Promise me you won’t get a big head, but it’s been nice to spend time with you. To know I can trust you, that I don’t have to worry you’ll turn around and sell my secrets tomorrow.”

“I won’t.” My words are decisive, firm. But the phrase “I can trust you” twists in my stomach.I tried to get her replaced.Colt’s words ping-pong around my head. Do I want to ruin this, her rare moment of peace, to ask her about it? Do I want to risk it getting back to Colt somehow?

My phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s Edwin.

He must be outside to take Ana home.

“Hey, man,” I answer, bringing my right hand around Ana’s shoulder to trace along her arm as I keep her tucked to my side.

“Glad I got ahold of you. Have you seen the alert?” he asks.

“No?” I start racing through the possibilities.

“There’s a tornado watch, and it’s heading toward a warning. The agency has halted all activity for the night, so I can’t get there to take Ana home. Check the weather—y’all should think about staying put until it blows through.”

That is not at all what I expected out of this call. “OK. Hmmm. Yeah, OK.” I give myself a few moments to think. “We’ll hang here. I’ll touch base with you in the morning.”

He ends the call, and I let the phone drop to my lap. Tornado warnings aren’t new to me; Ohio gets them too. We havebasementsin Ohio, though.