Page 41 of Make Me Want it Too

Fuck.

“Oh, Mace.” I open my arms to her. “Come here.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobs as she plops down on the bed.

I scoop her up into my lap and against my chest. Don’t smell her hair, don’t smell her hair. But she smells so good.

“For what?” I whisper as I softly stroke her back.

She hiccups against my shoulder. “For not being any fun. For being a bad fake girlfriend.” She sits up and wipes one eye with her palm. “Heck, I was a bad real girlfriend, so I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“What? Of course you weren’t a bad girlfriend. How could you ever think that?”

“I constantly fell short?—”

“Short of what? Fuck that. Fuck Spencer and anyone else who would ever make you feel that way.” I wipe away a tear with my thumb, trying not to let it linger on her cheek. Failing. “You’re going through a rough time, and this is a stressful week. You’re not a bad fake girlfriend.”

“Thanks for letting me cry on you. Again.” She sniffles, but also smiles a little. “But Noah isn’t buying this thing with us. What if no one else is either?”

“You want us to be more convincing?”

She nods.

Fuck.

“Okay. Let’s practice.”

“Practice how?”

“Practice looking at me.”

She narrows her eyes, and that cute little crease appears between them. “I need practice looking at you? Are you messing with me?”

I bite my lip to hold back a laugh. “I’m serious. Here.” I square up with her and look directly into her eyes. “Now, look at me with desire. Look at me like I’m the most attractive guy in the room—in any room.”

She smirks a little.

“Not even close. Look at me like I’ve kissed and licked every inch of your body and you can’t stop thinking about my mouth.”

A breathy little gasp escapes between her parted lips. “You have? I mean…” She stumbles over the words, blinking rapidly. “If we were dating, you’d lick me…everywhere?”

“You mean like going down on you? Of course I would have. Multiple times by now.”

Her neck and face have a healthy pink flush, and I’m trying not to picture it in my head because these sweatpants won’t hide my hard-on.

“Oh,” she says, almost surprised. I never allowed myself to think about her and Spencer’s sex life, but I’m beginning to think he never ate her pussy. Maybe no one has.

A fucking crime.

Her eyes are wider. She’s breathing faster. I am, too.

“Almost there,” I say. “Look at me like you want me. Like I’m your last meal. Look at me like I’ve been fucking you every night and giving you the best orgasms of your life and you want me to take you right here, right now.”

Her cheeks turn scarlet. The pulse point in her neck is visibly beating hard and fast. Faster. Her brown eyes get darker as her pupils dilate.

My heart is pounding, too. “There you go,” I say. “That’s the look.” My voice comes out all husky and out of breath, and I really hope she doesn’t look down because I know where all my blood is going. “We should practice getting more comfortable touching, too.”

“We should?” She’s whispering now and I wonder if she’s feeling half of what I am because I’m currently in agony. Throbbing for her and holding myself still so she can’t tell every inch of my skin is on fire and itching to feel her.

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