Page 33 of Lost in You (Flirting with Forever 1)

We make our way to the dance floor and as the music softly plays, we quickly get carried away by it, swaying together as one. Madison moves like a dream in my arms. As much as she’d claimed to be awkward in her heels and dress, she’s totally not. Her body was made for dancing. She doesn’t just hear the music, she feels it. She moves with it, gets a little lost in it. Every damn thing about her is enticing as hell to me.

Our bodies are pressed close, maybe a little too close for dancing in public, but I won’t deny her and can’t dismiss the riot of sensation barreling through me. Every inch of her is molded to every inch of me, and she’s driving me half out of my mind. If this dancing is an act, she deserves an Academy Award. The way her body reacts to mine seems very much like the real thing. I can feel her heartbeat fluttering madly against my chest and mine pounds out an identical rhythm right back.

“Madison,” I breathe out, as her head tips back to look at me. “You feel so good in my arms.” My lips skim over her forehead, and I tuck my head down into her hair near her ear. “You’re too perfect, and I don’t know why you decided to do this with me, but I’m glad you did.”

“Do you think they’re buying it?”

Ice-cold realization dumps over my head. “Um. Yeah, I think so.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Here I am dancing with her, my body heating, wanting her, and she’s thinking I’m playing a part still.

She wraps her arms around my neck for a particularly slow song and presses her breasts flush with my chest. My hands slide over her curves, down, down, dangerously close to her sweet ass, in an attempt to show her I’m not playing. She makes a little sound deep in the back of her throat and her lower half rubs against mine, and all at once, a feeling of possession rushes through me. My hard-on comes out of nowhere, pressing insistently against her stomach.

Well, if she thought I was playing before, I guess the truth is out now. The feel of her … oh, God. In response to my thoughts, more blood rushes south of my belt. Fucking hell.

“Shawn?” Her lips part as she takes in the strain on my face.

I bite my lip, raking my teeth over it as I lower my face to hers. There’s a distinct question on her face, but I’m so completely riveted, absolutely engrossed by the wet slick of her plump lips, I don’t know how to answer her. I want to taste her mouth—need to devour those lips. The sweet scent of her surrounds me, our bodies so heated that each time she moves, a fresh burst of it infiltrates my senses. My lips hover just over hers, and I swallow roughly. Never have I wanted something so much—to feel her lips on mine, to taste them, stroke inside her mouth, claiming it with my tongue. Never.

“Madison.” Her name rasps up and out of me, and with regret, I drag my mouth away from its intended target on a groan.

Chapter 17

Madison

We’d discussed a lot of things in the last twenty-four hours, but we definitely hadn’t talked about that kind of dancing or whether or not he should kiss me on the lips. The last half hour on the dance floor had felt like an out-of-body experience—the hard lines of his body pressed up against mine, like some sort of bizarre symbiotic relationship was happening right there for everyone to see. If you removed either of us from the other, we’d surely not survive.

Shawn has lit a fire inside of me that I’m not sure how to put out. The evidence of it is in full view of everyone at the reception. I don’t think there’s any way anyone doubts we’re together at this point. The problem is, he’s done such a good job of helping me fake it that I don’t want to fake it anymore.

The way he was dancing with me, well, I must admit, I’d thought it was something more, that we’d been going way above and beyond what was necessary to fool everyone. He’d taken me right to the edge of desire, and I’d wanted him to kiss me some kind of bad—I huff out a breath—and then he’d pulled away, like it was a mistake. That almost-kiss was all I’d thought about all the way through each ridiculously long dinner course. An hour later, my breasts still feel heavy and my core still throbs every time I

think about the hot brand of his erection against my belly.

He’d been hard for me. No faking happening there.

As we finish up our main course, my parents get up to join the festivities on the dance floor, James and Emily disappear, and I’m left alone with Shawn for the first time since we’d reluctantly left the dance floor when the salad course had been served.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous now, but it’s for a whole different reason. Unfortunately for me, I’ve been falling for our act from the very beginning. I’m having such a hard time identifying the line between reality and fantasy because we’ve both stuck our toes right over the line and wiped it away. Here goes nothing.

I lean closer to Shawn and carefully put my hand on his muscular thigh. Brazen? Maybe. But how else am I supposed to get my point across? “I really liked dancing with you earlier.”

He glances down at my hand on his leg, and to my surprise, he covers it with his own before our heads raise at the same time, gazes meeting and holding. I stare into that deep blue abyss, looking for some sign that he’s with me—that this isn’t all for show. My eyes beg him to see into me, down into my heart that is crying out to him to confess he has some sort of real feelings for me buried inside of him somewhere beneath all the faking and pretense. Please, Shawn. Please.

My breath hitches as he moves his head next to mine, his lips drifting close to my ear.

“Don’t freak out, but we have a problem. Come with me.” Shawn stands quickly, pulling me up next to him. One hand to my back, he guides me briskly out of the reception to the foyer.

His body is rigid beside me as we walk, and I still have no idea what is happening, but I can tell he’s upset. I stop abruptly, whirling around. Shawn doesn’t even know anyone here except my family, unless …

Oh, hell.

Chase strides toward us at a fast clip, his expression turbulent. I take two steps back, right into Shawn, who catches me as I stumble. He holds me against him with an arm looped around me, my back to his front. I moan and say through my teeth, “I forgot he used to be friends with my cousin. I didn’t know they were still close.” My stomach churns with sickness, bile rising until it hits the back of my throat. This is one thing I wasn’t anticipating, a wallop out of left field.

Shawn is strong and steady behind me, his arm a band of protection against whatever bullshit Chase is about to spew.

Before Chase can get close enough to hear, Shawn leans down and whispers in my ear, “Just stay calm. We’ll get through this. You still want to keep up with our charade?”

Well, what else am I supposed to do at this point? I jerk my head in affirmation because no way will everything Shawn has done for me this weekend go to waste. I really don’t give two shits if Chase is upset by seeing us together. We’re doing nothing wrong.

I can’t keep the grimace off my face as Chase stops in front of us, my mood immediately souring further when I realize he’s tanked. Well, that will definitely help matters.

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