Last Name - Dr. Rebecca Sharp Page 0,7
magnetic force of his mouth.
Under the steady pressure, my lips parted and my tongue hesitantly slipped out to trace along the confident seam of his. I felt his responding groan all the way down in my belly, stoking the fire that had been building this whole magical night.
My blood buzzed and I swore all the alcohol we’d been drinking only sharpened the way I wanted him—the way I felt his tongue stoke and toy along the sides of mine.
It was comforting yet demanding. Controlled yet desperate. It was risky and yet, his lips felt like the only safe place for mine to land.
The applause and cheers broke through the wanting mist surround us, trickling in drops of reality that we weren’t alone… and that our kiss was only supposed to be for the camera.
Slowly, my eyes peeled open, finding James’ gaze first—its intensity mimicking my surprise, too.
Could alcohol be responsible for making a kiss feel like that?
It was the difference between being at the Paris Casino and being in Paris on top of the real Eiffel Tower.
It was the difference between floating past designer shops on a fake canal and being in Venice. And it was the difference between a pyramid that emitted a light beam out of the top, as though calling for aliens, and standing in front of the Great Pyramids of Giza.
There were other kisses that had come before, ones that made every flashy effort to mimic the real thing, but they were nothing like the real thing. They were nothing like this.
Everything else tonight and on my list might’ve been for show, but there was nothing fake about that kiss.
“I think a few other people may have gotten that photo,” he rasped, his lips tipping up on one side in a cocky grin.
I half-groaned, half-laughed as I ducked my chin toward his chest, attempting to hide from the hoots and hollers of the crowd.
“Do you want to look for your friends?”
I paused, and then answered honestly, “Not really. They probably already left.” We’d made so many stops along the way here to make sure I checked off every box that I didn’t even want to bother checking my phone.
“You sure?”
I looked up at him and nodded.
“Alright, then what’s last on the list?”
I gulped. “That wasn’t it?”
His eyes danced. “I think there was one last box.”
I was about to tell him we didn’t need to do anything else—I wasn’t sure my body could handle it after that kiss—but I saw the look in his eyes, and the determination to complete this scavenger hunt together.
Unfurling my hand that had been clamped around his jacket lapel, I uncrumpled the paper trapped inside, using the hard plane of his chest to flatten it out.
Ignoring the rapid thump of his heart underneath the wrinkled list.
“It says to dress up like bride and groom and take a photo at a wedding chapel,” I read off the instructions, breathing a sigh of relief since this task required no physical contact—even though it required faking a wedding.
And a fake wedding wasn’t dangerous at all. Not like another one of James’ kisses would be.
I had nothing to worry about.
“Alright.” He nodded like a soldier who’d just been given a command, looking left and right before declaring, “Well, we aren’t walking there. Let me grab an Uber.”
Even though walking meant more time with him, I couldn’t protest. My feet were killing me at this point. Not to mention my normal struggle with equilibrium became a trial in unbalanced torture as the alcohol which buzzed warmly through my blood like a gleeful friend made my steps less certain and safe.
“So, why the big change?”
The words filtered to my ears in slow, slippery motion in the back of the Pinto that picked us up. I didn’t know if it was riding in a car or simply not walking, but the shot of Cuervo we’d taken before leaving New York were really hitting me hard.
James sat on his side of the seat, elbow propped on the windowsill and his head resting on his knuckles, as he watched me with the kind of fixation that only alcohol allows—the kind where you’re so focused on a single thing, it was impossible to see anything else.
Then again, he’d had that look all night, even before we’d started drinking.
We’d talked about a lot of things on our travels, glossing over family and friends, dreams and goals, but nothing specific. Nothing that delved deeper into this.
I gulped but, at that point, figured there was