Page 159 of False God

Trying to stop ranking my accomplishments along my family members’. Trying to stop assuming the opportunities I get are because of my last name. Trying to stop searching for the project that will make me feel like I contributed something important to the world.

“I’ll remind you anytime you want.”

I resist the urge to rub my chest to check on the pang that appeared. Attempt some levity. “That’s going to be hard since you still haven’t asked for my number.”

“You mean, 212-535-1012?” he says, without missing a beat.

I gape at him. “Youmemorizedmy phone number?”

“Yes.”

I rise up on my tiptoes to kiss him. Charlie responds instantly, his hands squeezing my hips and then sneaking underneath the hem of my shirt.

I focus on his top lip, sucking it into my mouth. He groans, palms spreading until they cover my entire lower back, then teases the seam of my lips open with his tongue. My breathing has turned rapid and uneven. I can feel my heartbeat between my thighs.

He’s taking control of the kiss, but I’m not ready to cede the power.

I push him toward the bed. He backs up the few steps to the edge of the mattress while managing to keep our mouths fused together, pulling me so close that there’s no space between our bodies at all. I can feel the firm lines of his chest through the fabric of our shirts. The thick bulge of his erection is pressed against my stomach.

Charlie’s hands move higher, lifting my shirt. I rest my palms against his abs, then shove.

He lands on the edge of the mattress. More out of surprise than any superior strength on my part.

“What are you …fuck.”

I sink to my knees between his spread thighs, answering his question.

After that, neither of us does much talking.

37

Ishould tell her.

I wasgoingto tell her. At dinner. And then after dinner. And then when we got home.

But she was so excited, talking about Dublin. And then she brought up New York while we were eating ice cream, like she was trying to ask if I would ever consider living there. And then, in my bedroom, she shared something I doubt she’d told many people. That led to several rounds of sex.

Nowhere between any of those moments could I find a good moment to tell Lili that my dad lost all his money and left me with a title, property, and debt.

She’s leaving tomorrow, and I have no idea when I’ll see her again.

How do peopledothis?

My entire life, my relationships with women have been easy. Straightforward. I’ve known exactly what I wanted from them, and I knew exactly what they wanted from me.

Then, I met Lili, and there was no playbook.

It took three introductions for her to even acknowledge we’d met. I’m rarely prepared around her, usually impulsive, andit’s all with the intended outcome of just spending more time around her. Because no matter how long, it never feels like long enough.

I’m not sure what she wants from me.Ifshe wants anything from me.

No matter how much she opens up, it always feels like she’s holding back. She could have just asked me last night if I’d ever consider moving to New York. Then, we could have had the conversation we’d both been avoiding.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Elizabeth Kensington?”

Blythe flounces into the dining room, fully dressed. I check the time on my watch, shocked she’s up this early.

“I’m not.”

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