Page 22 of Going All In

“Oh my god, where did you come from?”

“Your dreams,” he said, wiggling his brow.

“Do those lines work on other women?”

“Nah. I don’t usually need lines,” he said.

“Ugh, that cockiness is such a turnoff.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to turn you on.”

“This is a bad idea,” she muttered.

“Sorry. Sometimes I don’t think before I speak. It’s an issue. I’m working on it. But bantering with you is surprisingly enjoyable. Best behavior. Promise,” he said, offering her a salute.

“What are you doing? Do you even know what good behavior is?”

“Maybe. So, about that kissing.”

“We are not doing that today.”

“Right. Because you need to get to work. Maybe I could come over tonight and we could practice?”

He continued tracing his thumb over her knuckles and it was driving her insane—slowly insane. She wanted to pull free, but she had to get used to this if they were going to go through with this madness. Part of her—the logical part—told her to back away from this scheme, but another part—the reckless part that seemed to be a new aberration—told her to go for it. What could go wrong?

Oh so many things.

But she didn’t have time for second-guessing.

“We are not practicing kissing. The purpose is for other people to think we’re dating.”

“If you flinch when I touch you, they’ll know we’re lying.”

“Fine. Right here. One kiss. Then you have to drive me to the coffee shop.”

“Are you mentally prepared for a kiss from these lips?” he asked, his puckered lips exaggerated.

“Please. It’s a kiss.”

He tugged her closer, and the air froze in her throat. She was really going to kiss him. Let the insanity continue. Clearly, she hadn’t really thought this through. Her heart raced, and he hadn’t even leaned in yet.

“Prepare for the best kiss of your life.”

“Anyone ever tell you to under promise and over deliver?” she said, right before he dropped his head and his lips met hers in a quick kiss.

“Breathe, Darcy.” He swallowed her gasp and sealed his lips to hers again. This time with purpose. He slanted his head to the side, one arm banding around her waist and drawing her in tighter.

She clutched at his shirt, refusing to sink her hands into his hair as he kissed the hell out of her. It was soft and warm. Not too wet—the kiss, that is. Just the right amount of nibbling on her lower lip before he deepened the kiss, as if to inhale her whole.

Seriously? Why did he have to kiss like this? Shouldn’t he be messy and sloppy? Hard kisses and clanging teeth?

“Stop thinking,” he whispered against her lips when he broke the kiss.

Now he was a mind reader.

Disaster.

“I wasn’t. I was wondering what you had for lunch. There’s a tinge of onion on your breath. It’s really all I can think about.”

---