Page 70 of Surprisingly Us

I hadn’t been expecting it.

The jealousy I’d had when I saw her with Sebastian, his hands rubbing her down, had been real. And she thought I was faking it. Pretending to be overprotective and possessive. I’d surprised myself, but everything I said, every emotion I felt, hell, even when I growled, it was real.

I fucking growled. What is wrong with me?

My brain is stuck on a time-loop, replaying the kiss repeatedly, trying to make sense of what just happened. The moment Lettie’s soft, plump lips were on mine, it was nothing like I imagined. I’ve kissed countless women, but I’ve never feltthat—whatever was happening the moment Lettie’s lips touched mine.

I turn to look at her, but staring at the soft pillows of her heart-shaped mouth only makes it worse. One glance and I’m easily remembering how right her lips felt against mine. How perfect she tasted. And fuck did she taste unbelievable. I’d beentrying to play it cool, but when she asked me what she tasted like, I blurted out the first thing I could think of.

Mine.

But that’s not right. What the fuck does mine even taste like?

Besides, she’s not really mine. But fuck, after that kiss, I wanted her to be. I wanted to find any excuse to seal my mouth to hers again.

Still mystified by my reaction to Lettie’s mouth on mine, I shake my head, trying to clear the memory, and this foreign sensation.

Pretending that my brain isn’t racing with wild and inappropriate thoughts right now is the hardest thing I’ve had to do but somehow, in the middle of all of it, I’d managed to send a text to Ramsey to book Lettie a massage appointment.

When we pull up to the building, Lettie looks around.

“I thought we were going to grab dinner then go to my apartment?”

“You need a massage, so,” I motion to the medical-grade spa Ramsey located moments ago when I texted him, “you’re getting a massage.”

“It’s just that easy?” she asks. “With a snap of your fingers?”

“More like a text, but yeah, it’s that easy.”

“I don’t want to complain, because I really do need a massage, but you should be using your powers for good.”

“My powers?” I ask.

“Your resources. Not just monetary but I know you have a huge platform on social media of people following you, and you’re influential. You’ve got…what’s it called?” She snaps her fingers several times trying to recall the word. “Oh, charisma. You know, where people enjoy being around you and it gives you the ability to influence others.”

I’m taken aback by Lettie’s words. Maybe it’s because I’ve always thought people wanted to hang out with me because ofmy wealth and parties. That still may be true, but Lettie seeing it another way makes me think differently.

While Lettie’s getting her massage, I spend some time researching Leg-Up, the non-profit dance organization that she and Sebastian have been rehearsing for the fundraiser showcase next week. From what I can tell, it’s a great organization but fundraising efforts have stalled out over the years. The fundraiser is a final effort to raise money that is needed to revitalize the studio and be able to offer more classes.

My mom loved to dance. She wasn’t a professional like Lettie, but she was known for being the life of the party, and if there was music, she’d be up and moving to it. At fifteen, right before she and my dad got in the accident, we were at a barbecue with the Cartwrights and Davenports and some other friends at Lake George. I was being a typical moody teenager, embarrassed by my parents’ actions, but she still demanded I dance with her. I’m thankful now that she did because it was one of our last moments together.

I think about how she would react to seeing an organization like Leg-Up needing funds and volunteers to keep its doors open. And how much effort Lettie has put into preparing for the showcase. Lettie’s right, whether she meant I should specifically donate to Leg-Up, or was talking in generics, showing my ability to support organizations will help my stance with the board. Donating to Leg-Up is a no brainer.

CHAPTER 20

Rhys

Two days later, I’m still thinking about Lettie’s kiss. For the first time since we agreed to this fake relationship, I’m second-guessing how this is supposed to work. Outside of the specific events I need her for, I’d told her she could let me know when she has time for dates, but with how busy she’s been this week, we haven’t seen each other much. I should be cool with my freedom, I always have been, but instead I find it’s leaving me restless.

I play with Mo, using the laser pointer he loves so much until he gets distracted with the plastic bag the rest of his toys came in. Finally, I break down and text Lettie.

Rhys:Want to hang out tonight? I can bring Mo over and some take-out.

Princess:I’m busy.

Then a second later, another text comes in.

Princess:For real, not trying to make you desperate for more.

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