Page 41 of False God

“You could have corrected me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, attempting to regulate my breathing as he continues staring at me. It’s too fast.

I’m too affected.

He’s too close.

Close—and getting closer. I’m losing the ability to talk. I forget how to breathe.

I’m frozen, my overwhelmed brain too slow to registerCharlie is kissing meuntil we’re several seconds into it.

His lips are warm and firm and compelling, suctioning my top one with a persistent skill that speaks to experience. His tongue invades next, brushing mine before tracing the length of my lower lip.

Shivers race down my spine as I palm the plaster behind me, concerned the wall is all that’s holding me up. My legs feel numb, all the blood in my body rushing to other places.

Charlie’s left hand cups the curve of my cheek, angling my mouth exactly where he wants it. His right hand lands on my waist, the heat of his touch burning through the thin fabric of my dress like there’s no barrier between our bodies. One of his legs presses between mine, parting my thighs so that I’m straddling hard muscle.

The friction prompts a blissful surge of pleasure. Tingles erupt and spread. I gasp.

He chuckles against my mouth. And it’s that sound—that maddening superiority—that breaks through the hypnotic haze and reminds me why this should not be happening.

I yank my head back and slap him, the smack of skin against skin reverberating down the empty hallway.

My fingers fist around my stinging palm as shock filters through me. I just hit someone. I’veneverhit someone. Never been so consumed by a kiss, either.

I press my lips tight together to keep an apology from spilling out.

Charlie doesn’t flinch or grimace. His only reaction is lifting a hand to gingerly poke at the red mark blooming across his cheek.“What the fuck was that for?” He sounds more entertained than pissed, which makes me scowl.

“You kissed me,” I hiss.

He rubs his thumb across his lower lip, then prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Winces.

I should feel bad—I do—but I’m also a little proud of my accuracy.

“Well aware,” Charlie drawls, still managing to sound condescending. “Seemed like you were enjoying it.”

I blush at the accurate statement. His thigh is still wedged between mine—glaring evidence of what just took place. “I’m not a cheater.”

His hand drops from his face, bewilderment blanketing his handsome features. “I thought you were single.”

“Iam.You’renot.”

Charlie laughs once. “What?”

“You told Fran you were taken.”

The confusion clears from his face. “That seemed politer than mentioning she wasn’t the woman I wanted to continue talking to.”

“Oh.” My cheeks must match my dress. “It didn’t occur to you that she might tell me what you said?”

“It did not.” Charlie rests one hand on the wall, next to my head. “Does that change anything?”

I bite my bottom lip, the truth spilling out anyway. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

I scoff as he stares expectantly. “You want me to say it again?”

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