Page 61 of The Love Losers

“Be careful,” Nina says. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I could tell her something ugly. She used me and threw me out, the same way she’ll probably do to Wilson. And the only reason she’s showing any concern for my well-being now is because someone else has expressed interest in me. Because I am, once again, in line to be a millionaire. But I settle for shaking my head and saying, “I’ve tried to be careful, but being careful didn’t work out very well for me.”

Then I walk to my car. I walk toher.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ROSIE

I lean against the side of Anthony’s car. My heart is thumping so hard I can feel it in my ears, and sweet adrenaline sings through my veins. Still, I have enough sense to be worried about how Anthony will react.

Is he going to be pissed?

Oh, he’sdefinitelygoing to be pissed.

I mean, he should be—I basically just proposed to him in front of his ex-fiancée and then accepted on his behalf. That’s not the kind of thing someone should do on a whim. Especially considering that I still don’t know the outcome of the fingerprint fuckery.

But that kiss…

We’d agreed to decide what came next after our first kiss, and that’s what I did. He kissed me, his lips demanding and confident, and it felt like a promise I wanted to take from him and hold in both my arms. It felt like getting five gallons of ice cream when you’d ordered a single sundae. It felt like riding a unicorn through the crisp winter air.

I glance back, and he’s coming to me, his strides eating up the gravel lot. In another few seconds, he’ll be here. Maybe he’ll yell at me. Maybe he’ll say he doesn’t want to see me again, andhe’s going to have to spend the next week cleaning up the mess I made for him. Maybe he’ll admit that I’m too unpredictable and wild for a sort-of fake, sort-of-real wife.

But I don’t have time for any more maybes before he reaches me. His gaze is intense, and I feel it everywhere. Across my chest, down my arms and legs.Definitelybetween them. “I’m sorry,” I say in an undertone. “So sorry. I kind of got carried away, and—”

He wraps his hands around my hips and whirls me around in a circle, surprised laughter floating from me. I hold my hands out to either side like I’m flying. “What are you doing?”

“Getting carried away,” he says, and then he dips me like he did in our dance the other night, one hand weaving into my hair while the other stays on my waist. My heart is racing, my whole being filled with the need he’s shaken to life inside of me.

He leans over me, his face inches away, his breath my breath. “I was desperate to kiss you in the warehouse. I thought about it all night afterward.”

“Did you touch yourself?” I ask, because my filter has taken a few too many hits today.

Raw heat fills his gaze and burns me. “That’s between me and my hand.”

“I’d prefer to be between you and your hand,” I say, my body still suspended by him. I’m completely in his control in this moment, and I like it. Itrusthim.

He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me, and it feels like my whole body lifts up to him, offering itself, wanting him to move his mouth over every inch. Wanting this to be real.

Maybe what’s growing between us is as artificial as Sparklebutt the Unicorn. Maybe he never would have looked at me twice if he didn’t have to get married in a week. But, again, I know what I’dliketo believe.

It’s too bad that what I’d like to believe has gotten me into trouble so many times, especially because the feeling of Anthony’s hand flexing around my hair, tugging slightly on the roots, while his mouth moves over mine is intoxicating. And then his tongue dips into my mouth and meets mine, and it feels like everything around us slips away until nothingness. All that exists is the two of us, kissing, and…

“Aw, look, honey, they can’t keep their hands off each other.”

It’s the voice of Nina’s golden retriever boyfriend.

I don’t particularly care if they watch us, but I feel Anthony pull away. He stands me up and wraps an arm around me, using his other hand to wave at them.

He doesn’t look embarrassed, though, and he definitely doesn’t apologize.

“See you after Christmas,” he says. “Enjoy the pig roast.”

For a split second, Nina’s expression is honest. She looks like she’d enjoy roastingmeover an open fire and then serving me up to Wilson’s family, whom she obviously hates too. But then she gives us a big, blank smile and says, “Actually, we were wondering if you two had plans for this afternoon.” Wilson has a comical look of surprise, but he doesn’t interrupt her. “We’d justloveto spend some more time getting to know…” She taps her chin. “Oh, dear, what was your name?”

“I’m Rosie,” I say, leaning into Anthony.

“Howcute. I’m Nina, of course, and this is Wilson.”

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