Page 68 of Surprisingly Us

“Yeah,” he whispers, his hazel gaze dropping to my mouth.

The pressure of his firm lips on mine has me wanting more.

I want to know what he tastes like.

The thought comes out of nowhere.

Okay, notnowhere, it’s been floating around in my brain since I saw him at Hannah and James’s wedding, but it’s the first time I’m acknowledging it.

I want to kiss Rhys.

There. I said it.

For practice. Besides, what’s the point of having a fake boyfriend to practice with if I’m not taking advantage of all the features? He said we’d need to touch and kiss in public, yet the kissing part has been nonexistent.

“What about this?” I use the leverage of my hands around his neck to pull him down to me. This time, when our lips meet, I slide my tongue against his bottom lip. He welcomes me there with a lick of his own.

I start to pull back again, but he chases my mouth. His lips crashing down again as his arms tighten around my body, holding me to him.

“Fuck, yes.”

A rumble finds its way out of his throat. It’s the antithesis to the moody growl that escaped him earlier.

My heart hammers in my chest as Rhys’s mouth devours mine. I thought I was in control, but his skilled mouth is easily reminding me I have no business trying to seduce him.

It’s practice, I reassure myself. And the sidewalk outside Lincoln Center is as public as it gets.

I’m planning to make this spot my new home when Rhys’s mouth releases me. I’m immediately having withdrawals.

My eyelashes flutter open to find him staring at me. He looks confused.

I clear my throat but that doesn’t stop the visions I’m having of repeating that all over again with Rhys pressing me against a wall. Good lord, Chloe’s romance novels are filling my head with all sorts of ideas.

“That’s what I would have done if we were really dating. Since you were upset about me and Sebastian,” I offer as an explanation. “Also, I thought it was important to know what you taste like. In case there’s a quiz or something. I’d hate to be unprepared.”

He sweeps his thumb over my bottom lip, the evidence of our kiss still lingering there.

“What do I taste like, Princess?” he asks.

“Mint. Spice. A fever dream I don’t want to wake up from.” Did he slip me some truth serum or am I just that bad at not being completely transparent?

His mouth lifts at the corner. “That’s very specific.”

“What about me? What do I taste like?” I ask.

It’s purely research. I’ll need to know if my breath is bad or if there’s anything I can improve on for future kisses. Not necessarily with Rhys, because that’s not what I shouldbe focusing on, but at this moment I’m having a hard time imagining kissing anyone else.

“Like you’re mine.”

I blink because I’m not sure what that means. I’m debating whether I should ask or if it will only demonstrate my inexperience even more when his hands glide up my back and my sore muscles tense again.

That’s all he says as he guides me the rest of the way to the curb. After that scorching hot kiss, it takes me a moment to reacquaint myself. I’m staring at a black SUV.

Disappointment hits. “You didn’t ride your bike?”

“I thought you didn’t like my bike.”

He’s right. I’d been annoyed at first because it was big and scary and overwhelming. And the dress I had been wearing wasn’t the right attire for a motorcycle, but I’m in leggings now.

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