Page 23 of Fake It 'Til You Feel It

Dana tilts her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes, but she doesn’t voice the question I know is forming.

I dial a number I know by heart and lift the phone to my ear. It rings once before the familiar voice of my Chief Operating Officer answers.

“It’s me,” I say, my voice quiet but resolute. “Let’s move forward with the transition plan. Start drafting the announcement—I’ll confirm the details tomorrow, but it’s time.”

The silence on the other end stretches for a beat before she replies. “Understood.”

I hang up and slip the phone back into my pocket, my heart pounding. Harris’s words weren’t just advice—they were a push I didn’t know I needed. And Dana? She’s the clarity that made everything else fall into place.

When I turn back to her, she’s watching me, her arms crossed over her chest. All of her weight is on one leg, making her hip pop out to the side. It’s enthralling. “Something you need to tell me?”

“No, not yet,” I reply, my gaze settling on her face. “But soon.” Her dissatisfied expression brings a smile to my face.Oh, I love to tease you, Dana.

“Okay…” She arches an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “Why so serious all of a sudden?”

The unexpected quip catches me off guard, and a laugh escapes me. “Because someone’s got to make sure everything’s under control.”

“And here I thought that was my job.” She smirks, stepping closer and slipping her hand back into mine.

“It is your job, boss lady.” The warmth of her touch is grounding even as my thoughts swirl with the changes I’ve set in motion.

“Let’s go,” she says simply. For the first time in years, I feel like I’m heading in the right direction.

The cool night air wraps around us as we slip away from the party, making our way back toward the yacht. The distant glow and music of the gala cast a surreal backdrop to the tension simmering between us.

Dana’s hand is still in mine, her steps slowing as we near the deck’s railing. Her skin glows under the moonlight, her expression shifting—something softer, unreadable.

Her skin glows under the moonlight, the soft light catching on the curve of her cheekbone, the delicate slope of her nose. There’s something almost serene about her in this moment, like she belongs here, in this quiet space between the chaos of the gala and the pull of whatever this is between us.

And then, she looks at me—really looks at me, like she’s weighing a choice she’s already made.

It’s a slow shift—her expression unreadable at first, lips parting as if she’s about to speak, but doesn’t. Her lashes flutter, breath catching when I don’t look away. A slight tilt of her head, the barest catch of her lower lip between her teeth, and suddenly, the innocence of the moment is gone.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

And I’m more than willing to let her.

I lean in, my breath ghosting against her cheek before I shift lower, letting my lips graze the shell of her ear. “I’ve been dying to taste you.”

A sharp inhale. A delicious shudder.

I slide my hands to her waist, fingers flexing against the silky fabric of her dress as I pull her closer, aligning her body to mine. The pressure is subtle, suggestive—enough to make her aware of every inch of space between us. Or rather, the lack of it.

“Nathan,” she breathes, torn between a plea and a dare.

I let my lips brush along the line of her jaw, teasing. “Yes?”

“You’ve got me between a rock and a hard place,” she breathes, and I chuckle darkly.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Her hands grip my arms as I dip lower, my mouth tracing a slow, deliberate path down the side of her throat. A barely-there graze of teeth, just enough to make her tremble.

“We shouldn’t—someone might see.”

“Let them,” I murmur, soothing the spot with my tongue.

A shiver wrecks through her, and I don’t miss the way her thighs press together.

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