Page 137 of Fake Game

Jackson stares down at me with uncertainty but opens his mouth. Surprise ripples through me, but it is laced with a small kernel of fire. My heart pounds loudly against my chest as I slowly bring the piece of candy closer.

He looks right at me as his lips close around my fingers, and it sends a bolt of lightning right to my core. The room feels like it notches a few degrees higher as we lock in place. But the heat in his eyes quickly dies as he continues to chew on the gummy worm, his jaw tensing up with every bite. I stifle a smile. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to know that he is not a fan of the flavor combo.

“Is it bad?”

“Well, it’s not good.”

Laughter spills out of me as he immediately twists open his water and takes a chug. I give the bucket another shake.

“Ya know, if you let it marinate for a little longer, the popcorn takes on some of the sweetness from the gummies as the heat melts them.”

“No thanks. I’ll just stick to my normal popcorn.”

The lights start to turn off, and I give the room another once-over to see if I missed anyone else entering while I was distracted. But nope. No one.

The trailers begin rolling, and as each minute ticks by without some last-minute viewer rushing in, my nerves begin to calm. And by the time the movie starts, I’m able to tune out and just focus on the screen before me.

Around halfway through the movie, Jackson lifts the armrest separating our seats and pulls me into him. I snuggle against his side, relishing in his warmth as we watch the Devil Nun eviscerate one of the witch hunters in the underground catacombs. This unrated version really is taking the gore to a whole other level.

“That was interesting,” he mutters under his breath as one of the hunters gets bitten by the nun, the wound quickly turning a poisonous purple.

“What was?”

“That. It wasn’t in the theatrical cut.” He looks down at me, the lights shifting on his face and highlighting the strong cut of his jaw.

A horror movie isn’t supposed to feel intimate, but with each passing minute, I find myself sinking deeper into the man next to me. His calloused fingers rub circles on my arm, causing my attention to split between the movie and him.

“What?” He gives me a wry smile.

“Nothing.” I try not to grin back, but I can’t help it, the apples of my cheeks tightening.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Our smiles continue to grow, matching one another beat for beat until I have to bite my bottom lip to stop it. Jackson’s lids go hooded at the action, gaze flicking from my mouth to my eyes. He brings his hand to rest beneath my chin, thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

I take in a stuttering breath, completely mesmerized by him.

Jackson dips down, closing his lips around mine. His hand comes up to cup my jaw, and it angles me right into him. I reach my arm out, searching for purchase, and land on his shoulder, using it to pull myself closer to him. When I’m with him, it’s like nothing else exists. He quiets the hurricane in my mind, soothing it into a gentle breeze that licks over my skin.

Kissing Jackson feels like looking through a telescope for the very first time and noticing all the stars in the sky—it’s bright and all-consuming, drowning out the world around me. His tongue dances with mine and I moan into it, craving more.

We’re like teenagers, our hands swimming over each other’s bodies, desperate for touch as our panting gets louder and kisses more frenzied.

“The things you do to me, Deer,” he growls against me.

I love the way he talks; it makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

His hand palms my breast, and I arch into him, wishing there was no fabric separating us. I trail my hand down his chest, letting my fingers rake across his T-shirt until I hit his jeans. I tamp down my smirk as I continue going lower, my hand rubbing down the hard evidence of his want.

“Someone’s playing naughty,” he grins against my lips.

“Oh?” I grin back, giving it a light squeeze before I continue to rub up and down.

He groans. “You better stop doing that unless you plan on taking responsibility for it.”

My stomach swoops. “And what if I am?”

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