Page 148 of Faking the Goal

My head turns toward her.

She's still grinning, completely unaware of what those words just did to me.

Fuck.

Now all I want to do is grab her by the waist, pull her against me, and kiss the hell out of her right here in the middle of this party.

Technically, I could.

Kissing is part of the arrangement. Her rule, actually.

But something tells me using that technicality to kiss her just because I'm dying to know what that smart mouth tastes like would be pushing my fucking luck.

Especially when she's only just started letting me this close again.

So instead, I tighten my fingers around hers and give her a sideways look.

"Careful, Trouble."

Her brows lift. "With what?"

I let my gaze linger on her for a second longer than necessary. "Calling your fake boyfriend sexy might give him ideas."

Something shifts across her face. Her eyes dart away from mine, and the faint pink already warming her cheeks deepens.

Her eyes narrow, and she grabs a fistful of my shirt, tugging me down closer.

Before I can enjoy that discovery for more than half a second, her eyes snap back to mine in a squint. She grabs the front of my shirt and yanks me down toward her.

"Easy there, Sunshine. I was complimenting the performance, not the actor."

I bite back a laugh.

"Now come on." She releases my shirt and grabs my hand instead. "I need a drink, and you clearly need something to occupy your mouth before it gets you in trouble."

She starts pulling me toward the kitchen.

"Let's go. I didn't put on this dress just to stand around here arguing with you all night."

CHAPTER 21

TAYLOR

I wake up feeling like absolute hell.

My head is pounding, my mouth is dry, and the second I move, my stomach gives me a very clear warning not to get ambitious. I definitely overdid it last night.

Which, to be fair, is not exactly shocking.

I groan and press my face into the pillow.

Never drinking again.

This time I mean it.

Just like I meant it the last seventeen times.

I lie there for another minute, waiting for death or mercy, whichever gets here first, before something finally registers.