Page 118 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
Because feelings like these don't just appear overnight. They grow quietly, beneath the surface, until one day they're too strong to hide.
But it's all happening too fast. My brain can't catch up. As he lowers his head and trails kisses along my neck, his soft lips awaken every inch of skin they touch. I press a trembling hand to his chest.
"Wait…" I gasp as he nips gently at the side of my throat. "Hold on a minute."
"I love you."
The words hit like a shockwave, tearing down every wall I've built around my heart.
All the logic, all the careful arguments I'd stacked against the possibility crumble instantly. Every time I told myself this couldn't be love, that it was too soon, too irrational—it all means nothing now.
He loves me.
He's saying it with a voice that sounds like a confession and a plea all at once. He's shown it already, standing up to his family, walking away from everything he's known.
And now he's making sure I understand, repeating the words until they sink deep enough to change everything.
"I think I might have loved you from the very beginning," he says softly. "From the first day I saw you. I think that's why I tried so hard not to meet with you. Why I made sure all communication went through the senior staff. Deep down, I knew this moment would come—and it scared me."
He straightens, looking at me with a sad, tender smile. "Let's be honest. If all I wanted was a fake fiancée to fool my parents, you were a terrible choice. My parents were always going to make things hard for you. If I'd been smarter, I'd have chosen someone easier. Someone they'd have approved of right away, even if I didn't care for her."
"Someone like Anastasia," I murmur.
His smile deepens. "Yeah. Someone like her. But the second you walked into my office, and then later at the bar…I couldn't stop thinking about you. Couldn't stop imagining us together. So when the chance came—even under the pretense of a fake engagement—I took it. I couldn't let go."
He pauses, brushing his thumb along my jaw. "That's why I insisted we live together, too. My heart already knew what my head refused to admit—that I had feelings for you. That you drove me insane in the best possible way. Maybe I was afraid, because the last time I loved someone, it ended badly. But what I feel for you… it's so much more than that ever was."
He kisses my neck again, and I shiver. My throat tightens with emotion—with the same fear he's just confessed. It's a whirlwind, but deep inside, I know I don't want him to stop.
I don't ever want this to stop.
My fingers slide into his hair as he continues, his words and touch intertwining until I can't tell which affects me more.
"But here we are anyway," he murmurs. "There was no fighting it. I never stood a chance. You're too good, too addictive. Too kind. Too beautiful. Too damn smart and funny. You're… everything. I couldn't help myself."
"Grayson…" I breathe his name as his lips reach my collarbone. "I didn't know."
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," he says quietly, finally pulling back to meet my eyes. "Talk to me, Jenna. Tell me what you're feeling."
I shake my head. The truth is, I don't even know what I'm feeling. It's all happening so fast, so sudden—yet also… is it really so unexpected? Haven't I known, deep down, that sooner or later we'd reach this point?
Known it? Wanted it?Maybe even hoped for it?
"It's okay," he says softly, smiling. "You can be honest. I'm not expecting you to say you love me. I know I move a little fast that way, but I'm sure about how I feel, and I want to share it, not hide it. I was more guarded in my last relationship, and that's probably what ruined it. I wasn't perfect, but I swear I won't make the same mistakes again. I'll be careful with you, Jenna. I promise."
Tears press at the back of my eyes. With his vulnerability, he's stripped me bare too. There's nowhere to hide—no mask, no excuse, no distance left between us.
The truth hits me like sunlight through blinds. I see it clearly now, maybe for the first time.
I love him.
As absurd as it seems, I do. He's my strong, dependable fiancé—the man who gave his loyalty to people who didn't deserve it, who carried his pain without complaint. A man who stands up for truth, who refuses hypocrisy. A man who's willing to love, but never to lie.
I lean in and kiss him. "I love you too."
He grins—wide and unguarded—and takes my lips in his. The kiss is sweet and salty, a mix of tears and passion.
When he finally pulls away, it's only to trail his mouth down my neck, urgent now, lingering over the beat of my heart. He drops to his knees before me.
