Page 108 of The Fake Out

One of his hands landed on the wall by my head. “I wanted to do it.”

I swallowed. “W-we said we were going to forget that happened.”

His other slid into my hair. “Alright. You forget that one if it makes you feel better; this one, though? You remember.”

I sputtered, but words seemed impossible to form. Not that I had time to say them.

There was nothing soft or teasing this time. It was his mouth on mine, his lips firm and demanding and greedy, taking the gasp that escaped me, my breath, my ability to remember my name. He crowded me, pressing me against the wall.

I reached for him—arm, neck, hair, whatever I could hold onto. One of us groaned, him or me, maybe both of us.

There’s a rational part of the brain; it makes logical, well-thought-out decisions. It kept me from doing idiotic things.

That part of my brain broke.

Which left the irrational, illogical, impulsive, stupid, stupid, stupid side in charge. And oh boy, was it.

It said things like, We should start naming our children right now.

Well, not right now. Right now, we should keep kissing him.

He broke the kiss, his chest rising and falling. His mouth opened and I slapped a hand over it.

“Do not say a word. Just keeping kissing me,” I said.

He smiled the most satisfied, primal smile, and I wanted to kick him. Instead, I kissed him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

We both jerked at the voice and turned to find Piper standing not fifteen feet away, her back turned to us. I scrambled out from under Chris’s arm, more than a little horrified. What must she think of us shirtless and sucking face like teenagers on prom night?

HOW DID MY LIFE GET HERE? Maybe that will be the name of my autobiography one day.

“I’m so sorry.” She took a few shuffling steps, careful to keep her back to us. “I wanted to talk to you both about something. but it can wait.”

Chris stepped in front of me. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Nothing at all.” I snatched my shirt from his hand and pulled it over my head. “Just in the middle of a discussion.”

“Ooo-kay.” Slowly, Piper turned around, keeping her eyes pointed at the ground. Just in case, I guess.

“Clearing up a few things about this whole fake engagement.” I emphasized the word fake as though it were written in neon lights with arrows pointing at it. “How it will end soon, so we need to be careful about respecting each other’s wishes and not overstepping.”

“Yeah,” Chris mumbled, wandering several feet away. “What she said.”

“And Chris now,” I continued, keeping my attention on Piper, “realizes his mistake and that he shouldn’t have tried solving a problem I asked him not to solve. I don’t need him to fix anything for me. This is just business between us, right, Chris?”

“Yes,” he said, but it sounded more like “Yeth,” because he was pulling his shirt over his head.

Piper’s eyes darted between us, her expression caught somewhere between what-the-hell-did-I-just-walk-into? and I-do-not-have-time-for-this.

“So”—I pasted on a smile and turned to Chris—“I’m sure you’ll give Peter a call and clear this up immediately.”

Eyes narrowed, he put his fists on his hips. “Sure.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”