I feel it. You show me—you show everyone—with everything you do. Some people don’t appreciate you, some people leave you behind, but that’s because life is shitty sometimes. Not because you aren’t worth it. You’re worth…” She forced herself to meet Zach’s eyes and was surprised by what she found there: pure vulnerability, painted in burning blue. Somehow, that gave her the courage to continue. “You’re worth everything. Please don’t forget it.”
He tried to flash his usual smile, but it was a faint imitation of the real thing. “How could I, with you around to remind me?”
“I think I’ll make that my job from now on. Reminding you.” She should be panicking at her own foolish honesty, worrying that he might read love between the lines of her speech. But how could she, when, for once, Zach was the one feeling exposed? The one who needed her to be brave, who needed her to take the leap? His cheeks were flushed, his voice rough, his gaze flitting away from hers almost shyly. She caught his hand and squeezed. He squeezed right back, and when their eyes met, something precious passed between them.
Then everything about him shifted until he was carefree and playful again.
“Alright,” he said firmly. “Secrets. Your turn. You know how you’re a writer, so you have mystical powers and shit? Do you ever write yourself the perfect wanking material?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. He asked so seriously, with just the barest hint of that dirty, flirty confidence that called to something reckless in her blood. If this was who he wanted to be right now, she’d let him—but this wouldn’t be the last time they discussed his past, or his pain. She’d make sure of that.
She leaned in and whispered, “Are you seriously asking me if I write my own smut?”
“Yep.” He was wearing his most self-satisfied smile, one that said he thought he’d left her speechless.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yes, I do. Sherlock and Watson fanfic, specifically.”
With every word, his jaw dropped further. “For real?”
“For real,” she said pertly.
He looked like he was reconsidering everything he knew about reality. She barely stopped herself from giggling at the expression on his face. Then, after a deliciously long pause, he managed to ask, “Which Sherlock?”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug, feeling wonderfully mysterious. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Uh, yes, I really fucking would.”
“Tough. That was a secret. It’s your turn.”
He arched one wicked brow, and the action tugged at something low in her belly. “If my secret’s good enough, will you show me your fanfic?”
Absolutely not. “Maybe,” she lied with unrepentant glee. “If you really blow me away.”
“Okay,” he grinned. That grin was dangerous. She was already bracing herself for something pants-meltingly outrageous when he leaned in and whispered, “Remember that piercing I mentioned?”
“Oh, God. Is this the kind of thing you should tell me in public?”
“I don’t know.” His gaze heated. “Can you handle it?”
She really wasn’t sure. “This is a sex thing, isn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t have many secrets, Rae.” He leaned back on his bar stool, the action bringing one of his legs higher between hers. Her pussy tightened reflexively. One measly orgasm with him, and she’d developed some kind of Pavlovian response. “If you want my confessions,” he told her, his voice rich with a hot, liquid promise, “be ready for sex, sex, and more sex.”
She snorted, trying not to seem as overheated and fidgety as she felt. Her heart pounded so violently, she was surprised he couldn’t see it through her T-shirt. With an impressively convincing laugh, she said blithely, “Stop. You’re awful.”
He smiled, but his eyes were intense. “What’s awful is sitting here in public, remembering the little kitten growl you make when you come.”
Her eyes widened even as something inside her clenched. “Be quiet,” she hissed, her eyes darting around the bar.
“Why? I wish I was fucking you half as good as everyone here thinks I am.”
Heat suffused her face. And… other places. Had she thought she couldn’t do this anymore? That she couldn’t handle his touch? She must’ve forgotten how desperately she wanted it. This might ruin her, in the end, but she couldn’t keep her hands off her fake boyfriend.
He caught her stool and dragged her impossibly closer. His hand slid up her thigh until his thumb pressed against the tight apex of her jeans, pushing the seam hard against her clit. “You want to know a really big secret?” he asked. “I’m dying to see you come again. And