Page 38 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

Finally, unable to resist any longer, I close that last sliver of distance. Our lips meet, and the world falls away. The touch is feather light at first.

Her lips part slightly, a sigh escaping her as she meets me halfway. We balance there, right on the edge of something real happening between us.

Does she feel the same way I do? Could she possibly know how my heart longed for her?

“Amy …” I whisper, my lips brushing hers.

She presses forward, her mouth closing against mine, an invisible force pushing and dragging us together.

Chapter 17

Amy

Dylan's fingers thread through my hair, and I can't help the shiver that runs down my spine. I lean into him, surprised at how easily we still fit together. His scent of soft leather surrounds me, bringing back a flood of memories.

His hand slides down my shoulder, coming to rest on my back. A warm tingle follows his touch, spreading across my skin like wildfire. He pulls me closer, and suddenly, there's no space between us. My heart's pounding so hard I wonder if he can feel it. I know I can feel his heart beating against my chest, and it makes this all feel so real.

Without thinking, my hands move. One finds its way to the back of his neck, and the other rests on his chest. I can feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, his firm muscles shiftingslightly under my palm. It sends little sparks through me, making my fingertips buzz with electricity.

His lips press against mine with a desperate intensity that wipes away every logical thought. They're soft but insistent, and as the kiss deepens, I'm lost in the feel of him, the taste. I melt against him, my body softening as if my bones have turned to liquid. My fingers curl into his shirt, holding on like he's the only solid thing in my world right now.

His heartbeat echoes mine. I'm falling, drowning in this kiss.

What am I doing? I shouldn't allow this. But as his lips move against mine, I can't find the strength to pull away. It's like I've been parched for years, and he's an oasis in the desert.

Reality crashes back when we break apart, both of us breathing hard. My lips are tingling, still warm from his, and I already miss the feel of his. I open my eyes and find him looking at me with such tenderness it makes my chest ache.

At that moment, I knew. Everything's changed, and there's no going back.

“I'm … sorry.” He whispers, his voice hoarse. His hand untangles from my hair, framing my cheek as if it's painful to let go. “I shouldn't have …”

My eyes search his, looking for … what? Regret? Hope? I'm not even sure what I want to find.

“Dylan …” My words shake. “What was that for?”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Just practicing,” he says, his voice a soft murmur, but I can’t miss the strain in it. His thumb brushes my lower lip, feather light. For a moment, his eyes soften, the corners crinkling slightly as they did years ago when he'd look at me across a crowded room. But then he blinks, and it's gone, hidden away behind a careful mask.

“You know, in case we have to kiss when we win the competition. We'd want it to look natural.”

But nothing about this feels natural. His voice is strained, like each word costs him. I lean back slightly, needing space to think.

My mind is reeling. Dylan just kissed me, and I wanted it. I still want more. But I can't let myself go down that road. For all I know, this is just another act in our fake relationship.

“Right,” I whisper, the word tasting bitter on my lips.

I watch as Dylan's jaw tightens, a muscle flickering in his cheek. His eyes dart away for a split second before meeting mine again, now guarded and unreadable.

“We should go to bed.” His eyes search mine. I refuse to meet his gaze. I don’t want him to see how vulnerable I am, how closeI am to shattering and letting him in. I want him so much more than I should.

“We should,” I say around the lump in my throat. My hands miss his warmth, my lips tingle from our kiss, and my heart refuses to calm down. As he climbs off the bed, my body aches for him to come back.

He disappears around the end of the bed and flips off the light. A second later, we’re thrown into pitch black. The bed sinks under his weight and we’re quiet for a long moment.

“Um, do you want my help with this wall? It’s kind of … dilapidated.”

I giggle, wiping away a tear that squeezes from the corner of my eye, glad he can’t see it. The way he cares for me, just like always, makes my heart hurt even more.

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