Page 80 of Hard to Fake

I try to resist smiling, but I can’t help it. “Just this once.”

Voices sound outside.

“Shit! We’re going to get caught,” I gasp.

Normally, I can think on my feet, but suddenly my heels are glued to the carpet, my body paralyzed.

The handle turns.

Miles steps close to me. The expression on his face has my nerves dancing as much as the prospect of getting caught.

“Play along, Princess.”

He grabs my hand.

The last thought I have is how delicious his skin feels on mine before he drags me into the closet.

19

BROOKE

We’re seconds from being busted, but you wouldn’t know it from the way Miles spins me to face him.

My back hits a rack of coats. He steps between my thighs, his hand skimming up my skin under my dress as his mouth descends to my throat.

His teeth.

Dear God, there’s no better feeling than this man’s teeth on my skin.

Unless it’s his tongue. Or his lips.

I’m unprepared for all of it, and the sensations rip a moan from me.

Everything feels so damn good.

My fingers stretch up his shirt to lace behind his neck.

Voices enter my brain. I start to pull back, but Miles grabs me closer.

He tugs up my dress, hitching my leg around his, squeezing my thigh.

With a swift movement, Miles lifts me and pins me against the wall of the coat closet. My legs wrap around his waist. His hard length pressing against me sends a surge of desire through every nerve ending in my body.

“Brooke,” he groans into my skin.

Conversation is happening outside, urgent voices, but they’re a distant blur.

What he’s doing to me in here is far more important.

He grabs my ass, grinding into me.

My breath catches. My fingers dig into his shoulders, the muscles there.

The scent of him fills my senses, intoxicating and arousing.

The confined space of the coat closet amplifies every moan and whimper that escapes our lips, heightening the intensity.

I bite my lip, fighting back another moan as he nibbles on my earlobe before trailing kisses down the nape of my neck.

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