Page 49 of Faking the Face Off

I’m disappointed, but understanding, when she breaks away long enough to breathe, her forehead resting against mine as we both gasp for air. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips swollen and glistening.

“Ollie,” she whispers, her voice breathy but laced with the same need I’m feeling. Her grasp grows tighter and I can feel the shift in her energy. I need to slow this down, if not for her then for us.

I pull back and grin, my thumb brushing her cheek again. “I’m stopping there.”

Anna’s eyes snap open. “What?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to do more, but…” I push back a few stray bits of her hair from around her face. “I want it to be right. With you. I’m not that kind of guy, and I don’t ever want you to feel like any part of this is something you don’t want to do.”

“I wouldn’t be here unless I wanted to be,” she insists, tugging on my shirt and pulling me back toward her as I laugh.

“There’s a reason this is all happening.”

“That’s what I said,” she says, sitting up straight. “That it’s a reason or a season.”

I know the saying, and I notice she doesn’t add in “lifetime,” but I press on. “I want to know we’ve both got our heads on straight.” I shake my head as I sit back against the couch. “I can’t believe I’m the one slowing this down.”

Anna reaches out for my hand, taking it in hers. “Extraordinary circumstances.”

“They are.” I stare at where her hand, so small in comparison to mine, rubs the back of my wrist. “Even more reason for me to protect us.”

Her fingers pause, her thumb brushing over my skin in a way that sends a jolt straight through me. “You are protecting us,” she says softly, her voice steady but full of something I can’t quite name.

Then she shifts closer, and suddenly she’s right there, her knees bumping against mine as her free hand rises to cup my jaw. “But right now…” Her voice drops to a whisper, her lips hovering just inches from mine. “Maybe we don’t need protecting.”

Before I can argue—or agree—she kisses me.

And that’s it. Every coherent thought I had about taking it slow, about caution, evaporates the moment her mouth touches mine. Her lips are insistent, warm, and addictive, pulling me under like a tide I don’t want to fight.

My hands find her waist, tugging her closer, and she responds instantly, leaning into me, her fingers threading through my hair. Her body molds against mine, her every movement deliberate, like she’s as caught up in this as I am.

I lose track of time—seconds, minutes, who cares? The only thing that matters is her: the way she tastes, the way she feels, the quiet sounds she makes against my mouth that send sparks racing down my spine.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, her forehead resting against mine. Her eyes flicker up to meet mine, and there’s a teasing glint in them that makes me want to kiss her all over again.

“Extraordinary circumstances,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

I laugh, low and a little unsteady, my fingers tracing circles at her waist. “Yeah. Definitely extraordinary.”

And then, because I can’t help myself, I pull her back to me, losing myself in her all over again.

CHAPTER 16

ANNA

It’s been a few weeks since Ollie and I officially crossed that line from friends to…well, whatever this is. Reason or season or not.

And honestly, it’s been amazing.

At first, I thought it might be weird—dating someone who knows all my quirks, who’s seen me ugly cry over bad reality TV and eat an entire pizza in one sitting. But with Ollie, it’s different. Easier. Fun.

We’ve been doing all kinds of things together, from low-key movie nights to events he drags me to for his team. At every one, he’s charming and confident, but when we’re alone, there’s this softness to him, a quiet attentiveness that makes my chest feel tight in the best way.

And the kissing. Thekissing. It’s like every time his lips touch mine, I lose track of everything else. He’s so…sexy. Like, unfairly sexy. Freaking stupidly sexy. Not just in the way he looks—though, let’s be real, those broad shoulders and the scruff on his jaw aren’t hurting—but in the way he moves, the way he talks, even the way he looks at me sometimes, like I’m the only person in the room.

It’s not just physical, either. There’s this connection that’s been building between us, for years, and I’m starting to realize it’s been there for longer than I want to admit. Maybe I’ve always felt this way about Ollie, but I just wasn’t ready to see it until now.

A few days ago, before he left town for a road game, he stopped by my apartment with a record tucked under his arm. It was a copy of the Miles Davis album we’d been listening to. He said it reminded him of me, and now I can’t stop listening to it. It’s one of those old-school, heartbreakingly beautiful albums that feels like it was made for lazy Sunday mornings and late-night overthinking. Every time I play it, I can’t help but imagine him here with me, lying on the couch, his arm slung around me as the music drifts through the room.

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