Page 61 of Deceit

You’re not trash. You deserve to be loved.

“I enjoyed it,” I quip lightly. “Maybe next time, we’ll do our research on the movies playing before going.”

“Yeah?” I feel his hazel eyes on me. “I’d like that. Can I walk you up?”

“Sure.”

This poor man puts himself in another awkward and silent position with me as he walks me right up to my blue door and still fucking gives me his breath-taking smile.

“If you were trying to make me feel better,” he says, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “I appreciate it.”

“No, really, I had a good time.”

He tucks his chin into his chest before lifting it back to look at me. “I’m going to kiss your cheek, and you can slap me after if you want.”

Leaning in, he smells of citrus and clovers as he presses his soft lips to the side of my face. He lets it linger there for two extra seconds before straightening his spine and giving me a little bit of space.

“Have a good night, Emmy Lou. I’ll wait the textbook definition of what dating says to do and text you in forty-eight hours.”

“That’s a thing?”

“I think so. Unless they changed it. I haven’t been out with someone in a while.”

“Really, how long?”

“About a year and a half.”

“Was she married?” Alexander lets out a laugh that hits my gut and sends a butterfly or two fluttering in it.

“Nah, she was a gold digger. Didn’t like me too much. Just the Aston Martin and my bank account.”

I groan because of my big mouth. “Now I feel like an asshole.”

“At least you were straight up.”

“I’m sorry, it was a joke.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “I’m not going to let one person change my whole outlook on things. Life is too short.”

“Right.”

Right. Right. Right.

He jerks his head to my door. “It’s late. I took you out on a work night like an inconsiderate douche.”

“I agreed.” I try my best to give him a grateful smile because I am. “And it was needed.”

“Glad to be of service.” He gives me a slight bow.

“Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime.” I turn for my door to unlock it, but his unwieldy gaze on my back causes me to turn around.

He doesn’t speak, just steps forward enough to cause my spine to hit the hard surface behind me.

Raising both his arms, his eyes fasten to mine before he props both of them on each side of my head and bends to hover his lips over mine.

Teasingly or hesitantly, he lingers there for a moment then flattens them to mine, clasping the bottom of my mouth between the softness of his.

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