Page 42 of A Chance for Us
It’s a lot. It’s everything and fake, but sometimes it feels so real. Like when he reaches for me or holds my hand, it’s as though we really do want each other. Or right now, when he’s comforting me.
“Not so hard pretending some moments.”
“A lot of moments,” Oliver clarifies.
That’s what has me so twisted too. It’s easy to pretend that I really care about him, that we feel right. When we are around everyone and I look for him only to find him looking for me, it feels right. And that is freaking crazy because he is Oliver—and not the one I was going to marry.
Still, I don’t know how I could not feel this way. He agreed to my crazy plan and has been amazing through it.
Oliver’s eyes meet mine, the energy around us shifts as if he is thinking about the same thing. My heart speeds up as his head dips lower.
“What moments, Maren?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.
“Just some.”
His hands move so he can splay his long fingers at the small of my back. His tall frame towers over me, and I lean in a smidge. He smells so good, like wood and leather with a hint of whiskey. My fingers itch to touch him, to slide up his chest so I can feel the muscles beneath his shirt.
“What about when I kiss you, are you faking it then?”
Oliver doesn’t move, just stands there, looking into my eyes, and I shake my head slightly. “No. Are you?”
“No.”
“If I asked you to kiss me now, would you be pretending?” I volley the question at him.
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
I do what I had been thinking before, moving my hands up along his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. “This is crazy.”
“I know.”
“We’re supposed to be . . .”
“Pretending,” Oliver finishes before crushing his lips to mine.
We kiss, and oh God do we kiss. His warm mouth presses to mine before we both open to each other and our tongues meet. The heat of his body is against mine as we clutch at each other. I ache for him to touch me, to erase all the emotions that have been smothering me. When he’s near, it’s easier to breathe. It’s as though his laughter and smile give me the ability to keep going.
“Oliver,” I say softly before his tongue pushes back into my mouth.
He moans, pulling me tighter, and then we’re moving. I feel my legs hit the bed before he guides me back and follows me down.
We kiss more, breathing each other in, and my hands are moving to the hem of his shirt, lifting it. I want to feel his skin against mine.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he says before resuming the kiss.
I feel beautiful with him.
His hands move against my side, sliding up higher, and I arch, wanting him to keep going. His mouth leaves mine to move down my throat. Just as he reaches the valley between my breasts, a loud banging on my door halts us.
“Maren! Your Heaven-sent Father has arrived,” Mark Dixon, my boss, says from the other side of the door.
Oliver lifts his head, staring at me with questions. “Our reverend, my boss.”
His head drops to my chest. “If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.”
“We’ll be out in a second!” I call to Mark.
“Your boss is a minister?”
