Page 38 of The Kiss of Deception

My gaze bounces up from all the points of contact to meet his, finding it already awaiting.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “You’re gonna share your cake with me?”

I blink, reminded of the fork that hangs midair. My eyes tumble to his mouth.

“Open.”

Miles obliges without hesitation, I feed him my piece of sweetness. His lips glide down the fork with deliberate thoroughness, wiping it clean. He chews the delicious chocolate intently, and I follow it just in time to watch a groan lodge in his throat.

Another chair screeches—this one much more dramatic—but we still don’t look away from this lingering intimacy that fills the distance between us.

“Holy shit!” Camila punctuates her exit with a curse. “I’m the one who might get burned if I don’t move away right now.”

I spear another piece, and we finish my cake.

Chapter Ten

Zoe

The sun shines high in the sky, but Camila’s smile rivals in brightness.

Back at Nicholas’ party, we exchanged phone numbers along with the typical promises to see each other soon. I had thought that was all they were, empty pleasantries.

I was wrong.

She hadn’t hesitated to reach out to me. I hadn’t even closed the car door before the first text arrived. Before too long, she demanded a girl date, as per her own words.

“I love these girlfriend dates.” She sighs contentedly, tilting her face up to the sun to soak up the sunshine. Her chocolate brown hair dips below the middle of her back in luscious waves, natural chestnut highlights dancing with the sunlight.

We meet at the mall because emergencies happen, and you never know when you might need something. And the mall has everything. Again, her words. I almost don’t recognize her in a white top, pink pleated knit trousers and a bag that could rival Santa Claus’s in size.

We window-shop until she grows bored—a remarkably quick feat—at which point, she directs us to a bookstore. We peruse every shelf at a snail’s pace, while she stacks books in a cart—and my hands. We leave the store what must be hours laters with way too many heavy brown paper bags in our hands.

She thrusts them in my hands with a funny wink. “To keep yourself company when your man’s away.”

Morbidly curious, I peek inside and tripp on my feet when a bunch of shirtless men smolder at me from the covers.

When I catch up, I find her in the middle of the crowded area in the outside garden, pushing two tables together.

“Sit, sit,” she urges as I stare pointedly at the two tables. Camila points to the one in front of her. “For the food.” Then to the other. “For the games.”

I have so many questions, but she shuts them down by opening her Santa bag and producing from it a deck of regular cards, a deck of Uno, one of Dos, a 4-In-A-Line, Monopoly, a chessboard and a freaking 300-piece puzzle.

My wide eyes bounce from her to the table, back and forth, back and forth.

“Where should we start?” She claps her hands, rich brown eyes glowing with more shades than I can pick apart, smiley with their tilted edges. Sometimes, though, I think I catch something heavy before she blinks it away.

I look around, watching the trimmed bushes and the other patrons for hidden cameras, half-expecting someone to jump out of nowhere and reveal this is a prank for some reality show.

It doesn’t. It isn’t.

“Close your mouth before you catch a bee and sit your ass down. You’re drawing attention.”

“Sure that’s me,” I mutter, flying to my seat.

“Hm?” Camila’s already shuffling cards.

“A fly. Before you catch a fly.”

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