Page 24 of Faking It with the Forward

“Kissing, hand-holding, groping, sitting on each other in public—”

“Sunshine, come on—”

“Pet names,” I add. “No pet names. Especially that one.”

He’s been calling me Sunshine since last year–no doubt because of my lack of sunny disposition. He thinks it’s cute. I think it’s annoying as fuck.

“Twyler,” he says, over exaggerating my name, “you’re going to need to compromise on this a little if we’re going to make it believable. Not just for Shanna, but everyone else.”

“Should I bring over a box of condoms and Plan B for you to spread around?” I ask. “Will that make it believable?”

He winces and shakes his head. “Fuck. I deserve that.”

I shrug. “I work in a locker room. I’ve heard worse.”

“Hey,” he takes a step toward me, close enough I catch his scent; detergent and sweat–mixed with something intoxicatingly manly. “We’ll take this super slow. Nothing you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Okay.”

He closes the distance and takes my small hand in his massive one. Gently, he splays my fingers and links his with mine. “How about this? Yes or no?”

Warmth spreads up my arm–and I look past his broad chest to his gorgeous face. I swallow thickly. “Yes.”

With his other hand he runs his fingers down my jaw. A shiver runs through my body, pebbling my skin—my nipples. God, he’s good at this, I think, until he drops his hand to my neck and my spine straightens, and I squirm away.

“I don’t like that.”

“No?” he frowns, eyes narrowing in concern. He’s probably reconsidering, realizing thatI may break, but I won’t. I never do. But I’ve spent a long time learning about setting boundaries and if we’re really going through with this charade, Reese is right. I need to use it as a learning experience.

I take our linked fingers and place his hand on my hip, letting it rest there. His other hand moves back to my hair, pushing it behind my ear, then trailing down my jaw.

“I like your hair like this.” His fingers splay behind my head. “It’s kind of wild and uncontrollable. A little bit like you.”

His neck tilts and I know what to expect now. Or I think I do. His lips brush against mine, soft and sweet, a small kiss, before he pulls back, tongue darting out like he’s tasting me on his mouth.

“We’ll keep it simple for now.”

Easier said than done, I think, feeling the intense heat from his gaze. Reese Cain doesn’t have an off switch. That may feel easy to him, but my entire body reacts in a way that is decidedly not simple. My lips burn from that barely-there kiss, and I swallow back the desire to make things complicated.

“Do you have any rules or expectations?” I ask, stepping back to put a little distance between us. His hand remains on my hip, fingers applying the slightest pressure to hold me in place.

Possessive.

“You’re off the hook for coming to games,” his lip quirks, “but we’ll need to go to a few parties together. Hang out with the guys or your friends.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

I think.

“Then there’s the athletic department alumni fundraiser. The guys usually bring dates.”

“That feels like a work/dating conflict, don’t you think?”

His gray eyes hold mine, like he’s considering it, but ultimately he says, “How about we play that one by ear?”

Preseason games start this weekend, and then the fundraiser kicks off the season at the end of the month. Do I really think Reese will still want to keep this up?

“But first,” he says, “come to the Badger Den with me tonight. Everyone will be there.”

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