Page 95 of Just Act Natural

He just grins. “Am I that transparent?”

“About this? Yes.” About what exactly is going on with our little fakery? That’s a big no.

I move closer to the riverbank. I don’t think sitting on the hard bench will do my poor rear any favors right now.

“Your followers are there because they want to know about you, right?”

My laugh is a little too harsh for this pristine wilderness. “You don’t spend a lot of time on social media, do you?”

He draws up short. “I have it.”

“That’s not the same thing. Let me give you a crash course.Somepeople follow me because they want to know more about me. Others hate-follow. They just want to find reasons for their mean comments.”

“You mentioned some rude responses.”

“Sometimes it’s because I’m sharing a shot of my boba tea and my brand-new manicure instead of something deep and political. Sometimes it’s because I featured a food truck they don’t think is any good. And sometimes it’s just because of me. It doesn’t matter what filters I use to blur out my imperfections or how I conceal my flaws, somebody finds them.” I kick at a tuft of grass. “I’ve grown smarter, though. I’ve customized my comment filters to block words like vapid, ugly, wasteful, and ignorant. Plus all the usual insulting names.”

They still don’t catch everything, but they’ve helped my mental health immensely.

His eyebrows pull down, and he leans forward like he’s ready to fist fight the internet for me. “You didn’t say it was that bad.”

“It’s not a fun conversation. The point is, I’m not ready to deal with people’s responses to all of this right now. My move? The small town I’m living in?” I gesture at my face. “My best bet is to pretend I love the great outdoors, get this promotion, and then…I’ll let future-Lila figure out the rest.”

I just don’t expect it to be in thenear future.

“I understand you’ve got a lot going on, but I hate that you feel like you have to fake your way through your life.”

Wow. He found my sore spot and then threw all his weight against it. Most of my life right now is fake, including my favorite part.Him.

“Yeah, well, we’re probably not the best people to be having a conversation about what’s real and what’s fake.”

He goes completely still. For several beats, I can’t hear anything beyond the softly splashing river and the whirring of bikes as they pass. I’ve never liked quiet ambient sounds, so I keep talking.

“I know I asked for this, but you’rereallygood at being my fake boyfriend.” I kissed him days ago.Days. We haven’t spoken of it. Sure haven’t repeated it. So…what now? “I’m all messed up, and you’re completely unaffected.”

“You have no idea.”

His low voice is not so much a threat as a promise. That prospect stirs a flame to life inside me. I see the mistake ahead of me like a red light I can’t stop myself from plowing through.

“Then show me.” I wish I could be the sultry ingénue in this moment, but my voice is too soft. Too crowded out by fear that he won’t do what I’m asking. “Show me something real.”

His sweet, cinnamon roll persona falls away as quickly as Superman throwing off his cape. He stalks toward me like a predator closing in on its prey. My body turns liquid, but I don’t think of running. I want to be caught.

His hands sift into my hair to cradle my head as he claims my mouth. No hesitation, no questioning pause—only lips, tongues, and a silent but enthusiasticyes.

He kisses me like he intends to unravel me completely. Every touch spirals outward until my skin hums from it. I can’t do much more than cling to his shoulders while he rewrites my concept of what a good kiss is.

I might not know exactly what we are to each other or what happens when our few weeks together are over, but I know with complete certainty that nothing about this kiss is fake. Henry Cavill doesn’t kiss his co-stars likethis.

One of Grant’s hands slips down to the nape of my neck, holding me steady. It’s a good thing, because without it I would absolutely crumple. He doesn’t kiss me like I’m the only woman in the universe—which sounds good enough. He kisses me like out of all the billions of women in the world,I’mthe one he wants.

Like he’s marking me as his own.

His mouth goes exploring down one side of my neck, lightly nipping at the top of my shoulder before retracing the journey. He kisses behind my ear, sets his teeth against my ear lobe enough to make me shiver, and across my jaw to take his rightful place at my mouth again.

I trace my hands over his arms and scratch my fingernails over his scalp. He groans at my touch, and I smile against his mouth. Maybe he’s not the only one doing some claiming today.

Our kiss softens into something less fierce, almost painfully sweet. He’s still proving something to me, but the message is gentler. Not just desire, but tenderness. Affection. My heart fills up with it, overflowing like a rushing river.

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