Page 48 of Faking the Face Off

“I would like to take this moment to solemnly promise something to you. Something I need to say and say now.” I knowmy tone is firm and sounds stressed, but I want to convey the importance.

“What is it?” she asks, covering my hand with her other one.

“We’re taking dessert to go.”

The silenceat my house is more than golden, it’s a promise: because as soon as I got in the car, I made sure to text Dixon and threaten his life if he came home too early. Not that I’m going to attempt anything untoward with this woman, but come on. A guy needs a minute to make an impression, you know?

“I’m so glad you like tiramisu,” Anna moans as she stabs at her bite and tosses it in her mouth. We made a beeline for the living room as soon as we got back, both of us kicking off our shoes and sitting on the couch with three takeout boxes full of sugary goods.

“Go easy,” I say, using my food to point to her dessert. “We still have a baked cheesecake and a flourless chocolate something ahead of us.”

“It’s a chocolate souffle.” She laughs, opening its container. She dips her fork into it and holds it my way. “Have you ever had Tommy’s chocolate souffle?”

I shake my head and she holds the fork closer yet. “Try it.”

“You’re a sugar bully.” I sound annoyed, but I’m not. She presses the fork closer, so I lean in and wrap my lips around it, taking the bite. And it is delicious. “Whoa.”

Anna smiles as she dips her fork back for more and takes a bite herself. “I know. It’s so ridiculous, isn’t it?”

I flip open the other container and, using my spoon, dive into it and get her a bite of cheesecake. “Okay, I tried yours now…have you had this?”

She eyes the spoonful of cheesecake. “No. I’m a ‘cheesecake in NYC only’ kind of gal.”

“You haven’t lived yet, then.” I eat the spoonful and smack my lips. “Tommy’s head pastry chef is from New York, so this,”—I say, using my empty spoon to point at the cheesecake—“is the real deal.”

I scoop another helping and hold it out to her. “Try it?”

Anna looks at the spoonful, then back to me as she leans toward it, her mouth open. I watch as she wraps her lips around the spoon, her eyes meeting mine as she does so, and holding my gaze as she takes the bite and pulls away. She holds it steady until she can’t any longer and closes her eyes to let the punch of it all rush over her.

“Oh, wow…this is a foodgasm!” she exclaims, making me laugh. As she sits back and giggles, I notice a stray bit of whipped topping from the tiramisu has made its way to her bottom lip.

“Um,” I say pointing to my lower lip, mimicking where the food sits. “You’ve got something here.”

Her hand flies to her mouth and she wipes madly, somehow missing all of it. “Did I get it?”

“No,” I say, laughing. I point toward her face. “It’s there.”

She repeats what she just did, wiping at her face only to somehow still manage to miss the whole thing entirely.

“Now is it gone?”

“Can I?”

“Yes, please. I’m the worst at this. If I don’t have food in my hair, I’m like ‘did I even eat today?’”

I put down my spoon and reach across, using my fingertips to gently wipe away the stray topping. My hand is in a position so it cups her cheek, and I let my thumb do the wiping as she allows the full weight of her head to rest in my proverbial hands.

Everything that follows from here happens so quickly. I don’t know what comes over me, but instead of wiping the whippedcream on a napkin or even my lap, I slowly raise my thumb to my mouth and lick it off, fully aware that Anna’s eyes are locked in on me and watching my every move.

Her tongue slides along her bottom lip, that gorgeous bright pink pillow that I swear beckons to me. As her eyes slide back up to mine, there’s a brief moment where I could pull back and stop this, reminding us both that this all started because of a need. That this is the line we talked about that we don’t want to cross.

But that sounds boring. I’m not doing safe, not tonight. Instead, I lean forward, closing the space between us, my pulse hammering louder with every inch. Her breath catches, her chest rising and falling in time with mine. When our lips finally meet, I keep it soft at first, testing. Her lips are warm and sweet, and I swear I taste a hint of whipped cream still lingering there.

To my delight and pleasure, Anna doesn’t hesitate. She leans right back into me, her hands sliding up my chest and curling into the fabric of my shirt like she’s holding on for dear life. It’s all the encouragement I need. My hand, still cradling her cheek, slides into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as I deepen the kiss, my other hand allowing my fingertips to dance along her spine.

The world around us fades, and I let my mouth find its way along the length of her neck. I let my lips graze the soft skin there, taking my time as I make my way to her earlobe, refusing to stop until her whimper tells me I’ve hit my mark. I pull away, but only long enough to look her directly in the eyes and check in, and when I see she’s fine with where we’re at, I keep going.

My anxiety over wanting her is replaced by the intoxicating pull of her mouth on mine. Her lips part, and I feel her shiver in my arms. It’s enough to drive me wild. I tilt my head, angling the kiss just right, letting the heat build until it’s impossible to tell where I end and she begins.

---