Page 50 of Frosting and Flames

Hands that are going to pretend to be on me in a few minutes as I giggle that the neighbors will see.

The butterflies in my stomach escape their cage again, and I swiftly stuff them back in. This isn’t for real. We’re not actually doing anything.

My gaze moves to his forearms, exposed in the shirt he’d changed into before we left, saying he should wear something nicer to match how good I look. It’s a button-up, the sleeves rolled up, and though it’s covering more of him than the plain tee he was wearing earlier, the way it’s fitted seems to reveal more. Stretching over that broad chest, the fabric hugging his muscles…

I force myself to look out the window, willing my heart to settle down. It’s just Nick.

“I think I can remember that,” he says, and it takes me a moment to even recall what we were talking about.

“Good. It’s okay if we ad-lib, too. I don’t want either of us to get tripped up if we can’t repeat it exactly.”

He nods as he pulls into my driveway. “Can the camera see us from this angle?”

My mind goes blank. “I can’t remember.” Oh God, I can’t remember any of it. What I’m supposed to do or say. Why I listened to Jae at all. Why I suggested this to Nick when it could have died a quiet death after Jae left my house.

“Let’s assume it can,” he says as he gets out of the truck.

He rounds it and opens my door, holding a hand out to me. I stare at it for a second before I take it, his hand calloused and rough and so warm, I nearly shiver with sensation.

Time is moving so fast, we’re already up my porch steps and in front of the door before I realize it. Nick angles himself exactly where he’s supposed to, his back blocking me from view of the camera entirely.

He looks at me expectantly, and I blink at him stupidly until I remember I’m starting us off.

“Nick.” It comes out breathlessly, and though it’s not a giggle, even I have to admit it has a certain quality to it that’s hard to deny. Surprise and pleasure and longing twisted together in a single word that conveys exactly what it needs to. I clear my throat, unsure how I pulled that off. “The neighbors are going to see.”

“Sorry, I can’t keep my hands off you.”

His hands flex by his side as he says it, and I think of them back in his truck, confidently resting on the wheel. I had no idea then how rough they’d be. How did they feel when he tended to my arm the other day when I burned it? I can’t remember, the memory already slipping. I wish I had savored it.

“Well, we have all night for that,” I say, just as breathless as before.

His gaze is on me now, a weightless caress I didn’t know I wanted, stopping on my lips, my chest, my waist. “You know how much you turn me on.”

I inhale sharply as a sudden spear of lust shoots through me. That wasn’t part of the script. But the intense way he said it…

I step closer, meeting his eye. This was supposed to be lighthearted. A secret joke we’re playing out for the camera.

But he’s stone cold serious, something electric in his gaze.

“I do?”

He nods. “I’ve always had a thing for you.”

I swallow roughly, forgetting everything about the prank as I move even closer, completely in his personal space.

He twists to make room for me, a question in his eyes now, but I’m focused on his lips. Are they as hard and calloused as his hands? Or soft and pliant and willing to show me just how much I turn him on?

I brace my palms against his shoulders as I lean on tiptoe to kiss him. It’s obvious I take him by surprise based on the quiet noise of shock he makes in the back of his throat, a dazed expression on his face as I end it as quickly as it began.

What the hell did I just do?

I whirl around, realizing too late we’re angled within view of the camera with how he moved, and I blindly search for my keys in my purse, praying my face isn’t as hot as it feels.

Holding the door open for him, I wait until we’re both in the house and the door is shut to quickly say, “Oh my God, I am so sorry. That was completely out of line. I…” I fumble for an explanation that isn’t how I forgot we were acting for a moment. “I thought a kiss would be good for the camera and then I realized we never talked about that and it was terrible of me and I can’t believe I—”

“Rachel.” His hand reaches out to encircle my wrist, stopping my pacing. “It’s fine. No harm done.”

His fingers are hot against my skin, flames licking up my wrist and through my veins. I gently tug away, unable to take any more.

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