Page 26 of Faker
When he reaches a hand to my face, I am perfectly still. When he pulls his mouth closer to mine, I don’t flinch. When he presses our lips together, I let him. He kisses me, and it’s the lightest, softest, most gentle kiss in the world.
He leaves his mouth on mine for several seconds, but I can’t betotally sure how long. I’m completely out of sorts and lose all sense of time. The unexpected feel of his mouth has short-circuited my brain. A warm tingle spreads from my lips to the rest of my face.
When I feel his tongue run lightly against my bottom lip, my body tenses and my brain finally catches up. Holy hell, Tate is kissing me. An alarm bell is going off in my head, alerting me to the lunacy of this moment. I immediately smash it. Yes, it’s crazy, but I can’t deny how divine it feels. I want this. I need this. Screw anyone—even me—who says otherwise.
When he jerks away, I’m left hovering over the center console, my mouth half-open and my eyes still closed. I fall back into my seat, letting the cool air wash over me.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Jerky movements take over his body. He’s rubbing his eyes, yanking at his hair, shaking his head back and forth. “I don’t know what... I don’t know why I did that.” He buries his face in his hands, then sits back up and turns to me.
His expression is his trademark neutral once more. I’d be impressed at his ability to slide so seamlessly from embarrassed to cool if I weren’t so aggravated. He springs a kiss on me, then pulls away just as I was getting into it? No. Hell, no. This kind of behavior is not allowed in this parallel universe we’re currently residents of, this strange world where Tate is a dynamite kisser and has the sudden nerve to make a move.
In this new world, I turn bold. With my fist on his collar, I yank his face back to mine. I can tell by the shy way he keeps his tongue in his mouth that he’s not sure about it. I slide my tongue through his pressed lips.Too bad for you, Tate. You started this. You will damn well finish it.
This time, I relax. I enjoy it. The sensation of the tip of his soft tongue teasing mine, the smoothness of his mouth. He tastes like nothing. There’s the faintest hint of vodka, but after a few secondsit disappears. Just wetness and flesh and the blank flavor of saliva. It’s strange, but I love it. Every guy I’ve kissed has a particular tang to his mouth. Tobacco, coffee, mint. It must be all the water he guzzles nonstop. Gallons of water washing away any semblance of flavor, leaving the unmistakable taste of Tate behind. I’m in awe of how much I love it, this clean kiss.
His teeth clink against mine, and my eyes jolt open. His do too. The sudden eye contact throws me off.
Just breathe, I think. A slow hiss of air escapes my lips.
“Mmm, oh, mmm.” It comes out as a soft, breathy huff. I’m in the middle of a surprise hot kiss with Tate Rasmussen, and that’s the sound my brain delivers to my mouth?
My eyes fall down in shame. I remain in place, my face still touching his. What an unbelievable dork I am. I bite my bottom lip. It’s a reflex when I’m embarrassed.
He says nothing. His eyes showcase the same cloudiness I remember from our first day on the worksite when my shirt slid up in front of him. I bet I know exactly what he was thinking in that moment, because I’m thinking it now too.
Our faces stay still, our lips barely touching. His tongue finds my bottom lip again, and a switch flips. Our mouths collide once more. This time it’s sloppier, more desperate. We’re downright hungry for each other. The last time I had a man’s lips on mine was almost a year ago. It’s obvious how much I’ve missed it. The way Tate kisses me, I wonder if it’s been a while for him too. What a way to end a drought.
When we breathe, our exhales crash. The wetness of his breath is like water. I could drink it forever.
I slide my hand through his curls. His hair is thicker than I thought it would be. I moan in delighted surprise. These white-blond ringlets are the perfect spot for my fingers. Better thangloves, better than the steering wheel of my car, better than the warm manicure bath at my favorite nail salon. I curl them against his scalp and pull. The groan he lets out is like crack to my eager ears. I let go, then pull once more. Again he groans. My eyes are rolling back behind my eyelids. If from this moment on, my life consisted of nothing but kissing Tate and touching his curls, I would be satisfied.
His hands cup my face in such a surprisingly affectionate way that I whimper. He makes an “mmm” sound, and the vibrations of his lips pulse through mine. I could pass out from shock. I had no idea Tate could be so passionate, so gentle in his kiss. I was dead wrong. An android he is not.
There’s an ache between my legs, and I nearly yelp. Shit. That’s never happened to me during a first kiss before. It rarely happens even when I’m in more advanced stages of fooling around. I wonder if I’d have to fake it with him, like I’ve had to with other men I’ve been with. The heat of this kiss and the excitement it brings make me think that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to.
I turn my head to whip my hair out of my eyes and lose a moment of contact. His hands clamp me to his face. His body makes a convincing argument. Don’t move away, not even for a second, it says. Stay right here, keep kissing, and enjoy the delicious twinge in your lady parts. You earned this.
The ache settles into a warm tingle and floats through my body.
The melodic ring of my phone interrupts our car interlude. We release each other at the same time. We both seem to understand, even in the heat of arousal, the importance of promptly answering a phone call.
Jamie’s name flashes across the screen. For a moment, I wonder why he’s calling me, then I remember I invited him to meet me fora drink. Funny how a single tantalizing kiss can destroy the brain cells responsible for my short-term memory.
I answer, out of breath. I register Tate’s panting as well.
“Hey! I’m finally here,” Jamie says cheerily. “Are you somewhere in the back? I don’t see you.”
“No, I um... I stepped outside for a sec. Hang on, I’m about to walk back inside now.” I reach for the handle, but Tate pulls me away from the door.
“I can just go outside—”
“No!” I nearly shout, freezing in Tate’s grip. “Stay inside. I’ll be there in just one minute, okay?”
I hang up, then yank away from him. “I have to go,” I say without looking at him. I’m afraid if we make eye contact, I’ll end up lunging at him mouth-first again.
“Wait.” He sounds desperate.
“Jamie’s here. I have to.”
