Page 42 of Faking Romance

“I will,” he replies.

I pause when I get to the door, turning, I look back at him. He’s close, just a foot away. I can smell his woodsy cologne. Why does he have to be so handsome?

“What?” he asks, his voice lower than normal.

“Nothing,” I squeak, feeling foolish for ogling him. This isn’t real, I remind myself for what feels like the hundredth time this past week.

He clears his throat and takes another small step toward me. “I’ve been thinking…” He trails off.

“About?”

“Maybe, we should kiss,” he says slowly.

My eyes go to his lips and then back to his eyes. “Why?” I whisper.

“Because, won’t it seem weird if we never kiss around Pierce?” he asks.

Shrugging, I consider it. “I mean, I guess it depends on how much we are around him,” I counter, but somewhere deep inside, I’m screaming that I think we should practice kissing.

“I just…I thought we could have a practice one in case we have to pretend. That way it’s not so awkward,” he explains, his eyes drifting down to my mouth as I bite my lower lip.

His hand comes up, and he places his thumb on my lower lip, pulling it free from my teeth. He keeps his hand on my jaw as his eyes search mine.

“OK,” I agree because I feel like my entire body is going to burst into flames if we don’t kiss, like, right now.

He steps forward, closing the distance between us. I can feel the heat of his body as he presses it against mine. Damn, Gray has muscles, like, lots of muscles.

He chuckles as his lips brush against mine. “I work out, wife,” he teases and I realize I said that out loud.

“Good, I like a hubby who’s in shape,” I murmur as I feel his breath against my lips.

“Do you now?” he asks, his lips coasting against mine again.

“Stop teasing me, Gray, and kiss me,” I demand.

The words are barely out of my mouth when his lips crush against mine. It’s the perfect amount of pressure, not too hard, not too soft. He nips a little at my lower lip and a moan escapes me. I feel my cheeks pinken, but I don’t stop kissing him. His tongue traces my upper lip and our kiss deepens. Our tongues tentatively meet, with slow strokes that leave me wanting more. I whimper from the sensation, and he plunges deeper into my mouth, taking control and exploring every last crevice. Shit, is this how Gray fucks? Because if it is, then sex with him would be epic.

My arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer, needing more of him. He keeps one hand on my jaw, angling my head how he wants it, and the other holds my hip. He’s somehow forceful and gentle all at once.

And then, he pulls away and drops his hands. We stare at each other for long seconds, neither of us saying a word. The only sounds are from our labored breathing.

“Well, I guess we can check practicing kissing off our list,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

He laughs and then licks his lips, and I watch his tongue as it darts out of his mouth. Damn, I’d love his tongue on other parts of my body. “I suppose we can,” he says after a moment.

“Good night, Gray,” I say as I turn the handle and open his door.

“Good night, Roxbury,” he replies. I don’t look back, but I grin when he says my given name.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Grayson

It’s the knocking that wakes me. A constant incessant knocking. And it pisses me off because I was having a super inappropriate dream about Roxy, involving a lot more than the kissing we did last night. Fuck, I could kiss that woman for hours. Her lips were so soft. It made me wonder what the rest of her would feel like, taste like.

I roll over and put my pillow over my head, trying to block the sound. I know it’s not too early because my room is slightly light even with my curtains closed.

After five minutes, I give up and walk to the hallway. I open the bathroom door, and the kitten runs out like a wild cat. Her legs go in four different directions as she attempts to scurry into my living room on my hardwood floors.

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