because this is probably the last chance I’ll have with him. “Maybe you can take a dose of your own medicine and live in the moment with me tonight. Have a little fun.” I poke him in the chest, and he rubs the spot like I used a knife to stab him. “It used to be you pushing me to have fun, remember?”
His brows lift, and the corners of his mouth twitch with mirth. “Oh, I remember.”
I step a little closer and crane my neck to look up at him. “We should probably fake kiss because everyone is watching us fake fight right now.”
He doesn’t turn to confirm the fact, which is good because it was a total lie. Instead, the humor disappears from his face, and his brows furrow as he cups my cheeks and crushes his lips to mine.
I thought it would be a playful kiss. Something light and silly…good for a show. But it’s anything but a show.
It’s fierce and possessive with a need so intense, tears prick the back of my eyes. When he finally releases me, we’re both gasping for breath, and his voice is thick when he says, “I missed you this week.”
My brows lift as that comment causes serious tummy flipping action. I chew my raw lip and attempt to come off as casual. “Did you fake miss me or real miss me?”
“Real,” he recalls, pain creasing his features with that admission.
“Okay then,” I huff, my heart thumping with hope that I scarcely allowed myself to have before.
“Okay then.”
I pull back for some fresh air, staring into his dark eyes. I want to confess everything to him right here, right now. Can he see how badly I want to be with him? How much I want to make this more? I clear those thoughts out of my head because I don’t need to plan right now. I need to be in the moment.
A smile teases my lips as I grab his hand and pull him back toward the reception. “Let’s go have some fun.”
Kate and Miles know how to throw a party. We drink, we eat, we laugh. Between Miles’s fellow mechanics doing beer chugging competitions by the creek and a few of Kate’s smutty romance author friends singing karaoke, I manage to have the best time I’ve ever had at a wedding.
And I forgot how much I love to dance with Dean. The two of us dance like no one is watching when, in fact, everyone is watching. There are at least a dozen people who drunkenly stumble up to us and slur, “You two are next.”
And instead of it completely freaking either of us out, we just laugh and roll with it because it feels good. On the surface, I suppose we are faking, but deep down, we’re as real as it gets. The more fun I have with Dean, the more I don’t know if Dean and I were ever truly faking it these past few weeks. You can’t fake chemistry like this, right?
Dean even drives my car from the reception hall to his place like we’re a real couple. And when we park, he opens my door, grabs my hand in a waffle hold, and pulls me into his house.
The second we’re inside, his lips are on mine, tasting, teasing, and stirring me into a frenzy of desire. My purse thuds as it drops to the floor, the sound of him undoing the zipper of my dress as he kisses my shoulders is the best aphrodisiac of my life.
I shimmy out of the dress and move in to kiss him again, but he stops me, holding me by my shoulders as he reverently stares at my black lace lingerie set. He swallows slowly before picking me up, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist, and carries me upstairs to his bed.
My lingerie and his clothes end up on his bedroom floor. When we’re both completely naked, he lays me down in his bed that smells like him and kisses me everywhere. He whispers my name against my skin, over and over, like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory.
So am I.
It was a great night after our little spat, which says a lot about us as a couple. We could hear each other in the moment, voice our concerns, and move past it. To this.
“I’m on the pill,” I croak, sitting up to stop his hand as he kneels between my legs and prepares to unwrap a condom.