Page 158 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“Rules. Dignity. Skepticism. Possibly my ability to look your mother in the eye over breakfast.”

I feel his mouth almost curve against me.

“That last one was already questionable.”

I gasp. “Rude.”

His hand shifts slightly on my stomach, thumb brushing once, slow enough to ruin every argument I had lined up.

I stare at the chipped pumpkin on my desk like it might offer guidance.

It ignores me.

Traitor.

“You’re doing it again,” he says.

“What?”

“Trying to talk yourself out of what already happened.”

“I’m not talking myself out of anything. I’m simply reviewing the minutes from last night’s meeting.”

“Meeting?”

“Very productive. High engagement. Several motions passed.”

His breath warms my shoulder. “Motions?”

“Don’t make me say that word while we’re still naked.”

He goes quiet for one beat.

Then I feel him laugh.

Not hear it.

Feel it.

Low against my back.

My heart, which has never respected workplace boundaries, immediately considers applying for a joint account.

I close my eyes.

This is bad.

Not because last night was a mistake.

Because it wasn’t.

Of course I turn to look at him.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You smiled.”