Page 41 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

He finally breaks into a smile. “OK, OK. On occasion, I have been known to chop a cord of lumber or two,” he admits.

“Ha,” I crow, delighted. “I told you: woodsman!”

We pull up outside the cottage– and sure enough, the headlights behind us pull over, too. There’s another long silence.

“Quinn said…” I venture. “You probably should walk me to my door. You know, like you would if we really were dating.”

“Right.” Duke nods. “Good idea.”

He crosses around to open my door for me, and helps me down to the ground. Then we slowly walk up the path to the cottage, pausing when we reach the front step.

“He’s taking photos of us right now, isn’t he?” Duke murmurs in a low voice, looking down at me. He’s still looking stressed, his handsome features drawn together with tension, so I try to break the ice.

“Remind me, which is your good side?” I tease, and he huffs a laugh.

“I know I signed up for it, but it still feels weird, having someone watching us.” Duke shakes his head with a rueful smile. “I can’t believe you live like this.”

“It’s the price of fame,” I shrug. “I guess if you want something bad enough, you’ll do all kinds of crazy things to get it.”

“Yeah…” Duke’s voice quiets, and his eyes fix on mine, dark in the moonlight. “I guess so.”

I swallow. It’s dark out now, but the lantern above the door casts a warm glow around us, and we’re framed by the planters, spilling flowers and fragrant lavender into the night.

It’s romantic, intimate...

Completely fake, I remind myself.

Duke’s gaze slips to my lips. “Should we…?” he trails off.

“Kiss?” I offer, feeling strangely breathless. There’s a curious anticipation sizzling in my bloodstream, something deep, and rich, and hot. “I mean, probably,” I blurt, my cheeks warming. “You know, for the photos.”

“Right.” He nods, raking a hand through his tousled hair. “For the photos.”

Duke reaches for me, and I automatically step back.

He looks at me, questioning. “Sorry,” I gulp. My heart is racing now, but I don’t know why. I’ve done a hundred fake kisses for the cameras– and way more than just kissing, too. This should be a breeze compared with those roles. After all, I’m not soaked to my skin in see-through lingerie, with two dozen crew members all drooling over my every move.

Tonight it’s just me and Duke… and whoever is lurking on the other side of the bushes.

“Let’s try it again,” I say brightly, trying to get into actress-mode. “If you… put your hand on my waist, then I’ll, um, put mine on your shoulders.” I suggest, wishing we had one of those intimacy coordinators here to choreograph the whole thing. “And don’t forget to angle to the left, so they’ll get a good shot. OK?”

“OK,” Duke agrees. He takes a breath, then reaches for me again.

This time, I don’t shy away.

One hand slides around my waist, tugging me closer. The other gently cups my cheek. Our eyes lock, and I inhale in a rush, shivering at the contact. And then he’s leaning closer… closer… closing the distance between us until his lips find mine in a slow, lingering kiss.

Oh.

It starts off gentle, just the barest whisper of sensation. So soft, I can’t help but sigh. But then Duke’s hands tighten as I sway against him, and our bodies press tight. Heat surges, and that sweet, gentle oh turns to a fevered oh my god.

I clutch at his shirt, wanting more, shocked by the rush that floods my body as his mouth claims mine with slow, deliberate strokes. Duke’s tongue slides deeper, exploring me, and God, it’s incredible.

What is this?

It’s not a stage kiss, that’s for sure. Or like any other kiss I’ve known. They don’t even qualify compared to this intoxicating tangle of hands and mouths and low, burning desire.

Duke finally pulls away, and I gasp for air, reeling in delicious sensation as he drags his mouth softly along my jaw and up to my ear; breath hot against my lobe.

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