Page 60 of Faking It with the Forward

“I didn’t assume you were,” he says a little too quickly.

I laugh. “You totally thought I was.”

“Okay,” he admits, a slow grin appearing, “I definitely thought you were.”

“I’m just… selective. After Ethan, I decided I needed to do a better job about the people I choose to be in my life.” Our eyes meet. “That includes boyfriends. Real or fake.”

There’s a beat of silence that stretches between us, until he reaches out, brushing his fingers over the curve of my cheek, driving my pulse to thrum erratically. “I know shit is complicated with your internship, but I don’t want to only see you in a professional capacity. I’m kind of getting used to having you around.”

“I’m getting kind of used to you too,” I confess. “You’re not as terrible as I thought you were.”

He laughs, but there’s not a lot of humor in it. His gray eyes darken. “I also don’t want to be your fake anything anymore either.”

Wait.What?“What does that mean?” I ask. “You want this to be real?”

“It already is.” He drops the ice pack on the coffee table and scoots closer, jaw tensing at the pain in his side. He’s determined to get to me despite that and closes any remaining distance. His fingers tilt my chin, and he lets out a ragged breath. “Tell me you want the same thing.”

A million red flags wave, especially the one being held by Coach Green, but I ignore each and every one. “I do.”

He presses a slow, wet kiss against my mouth. He doesn’t have to deepen it–I’m the one that does that,removing any room for doubt. He escalates, stroking my jaw with his fingers before parting my lips and sliding his tongue inside. I marvel at how each kiss with Reese is better than the last.

He’s so good at this.

“Fuck, Sunshine, your mouth tastes so good,” he says between kisses. “I’ve been thinking about it since the night you slept in my bed.”

“I’ve been thinking about it too.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and just let go, allowing myself to get lost in him; in the skilled way his tongue strokes against mine, in the way his body is honed into mine, how he touches me with greedy hands.

And damn, the tent in his pants is obscene.

His hands push under my sweater, lifting it to expose my breasts. A thick hum builds in the back of his throat and his mouth drops down, kissing between them. “This fucking bra,” he says. “Not that I’m not into your sporty look, but hell, I almost stabbed the eyes out of that kid at the shelter when he was checking you out.”

I laugh, mostly from embarrassment. “It wasn’t his fault I looked like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Winston.”

“I had no choice but to make it perfectly fucking clear who you belonged to. That kid was dangerously close to getting his ass kicked.” His mouth closes around my nipple, and even through the lace, an unexpected jolt of want surges to my core. The wet heat of his tongue lathes over my nipple and any sense of reason slips from my grasp. Reese’s mouth and hands working together? A lethal combination. I haven’t had anyone make me feel like this in a long time—maybe ever.

“You make me so fucking hard,” he growls into my neck. His words are dirty and desperate, sending pinpricks across every inch of my skin. My clit aches—the want for him growing with every kiss, every touch. “Jesus Christ, Sunshine.”

In a sudden move, Reese lifts me by the ass and drops me in his lap. His erection stabs between my legs, and I grind down.

“Just keep doing that,” he begs, tongue licking against mine, “your pussy feels so good.”

No man has ever talked to me like this—or made me feel like this. I flatten my hands on his ridiculous chest, feeling the hard muscles tense under my fingertips. Rubbing against him, my clit throbs every time his cock hits my core, sending another jolt of desire. Sweeping my hair back, he cups the back of my head, and takes me in another blistering kiss. Between my legs, I feel the build-up, the tickle deep in the pit of my belly and my breath comes faster. I could come like this, no, I’mgoingto come like this, except Reese grips my hips with his big hands and forces me to still.

“I want you so fucking bad right now,” he shudders a frustrated exhale, “but my side is killing me.”

“Oh my god,” I jump off his lap, which is a challenge with the way he’s holding onto me. What the hell was I thinking? I came over here to help him, not dry hump him on the couch. “I’m so sorry. Let me take a look—”

“Hey,” he grabs my hand and yanks me down to his uninjured side. “No harm done, but this isn’t how I want to explore your body. Not feeling like I’ve got a thousand knives stabbing into my ribs.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“It’s not really my style to tell the girl I’ve been chasing for weeks to get off my dick.” His arm wraps around my waist and he gives me a slow kiss next to my ear. Reese continues to touch me, like even though we can’t do what we want, he still can’t get enough of me. Blood continues to pulse in my heart and core. And maybe my ears because I’m not sure I hear him right when he asks, “Were you close?”

Heat blooms in my cheeks. “I’m fine.”

His eyebrow lifts, and his hand pushes under the hem of my shirt and lies flat against my belly. Whatever fire has been left smoldering is reignited and without shame, my hips rise at his touch. His fingers tickle as they inch down, thumbing the button of my jeans free.

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