Page 53 of Champagne Fizz

He felt me do it. I don’t have to yell it from the rooftops.

“Anyone?” he asks, unconvinced.

“Yes!” I glare at him frustrated. “If Connor kissed me I’d be—” I swallow hard. I know it wouldn’t be as intense as it was with Simon. IwantSimon, but I don’t need to explain that to him. “I’d still …reactin that situation too.”

“Do not tell Arie that!”

“Oh my gosh!” I glare at him. “I’m not an idiot, you donut hole!”

He smiles at my use of donut hole.

“I’m not interested in Connor,” I clarify, as Simon’s expression turns inquisitive. “My body just reacts to things. It’s physical, or physiological, or psychological maybe, I don’t know.”

“Have you seen a doctor about this?”

“No!” I practically yell, gripping the edges of my jumpsuit. The last thing I want to do is explain this to Simon. “Of course not! That’s way too personal.”

“Then how do you know you have a condition?” he asks with his eyebrows lifting.

“Because I have to live with this every day of my life, Simon!” I growl, stepping away from him. “It doesn’t matter who I’m around. It’s just my body. It overheats when it shouldn’t.”

“So, you’re saying …” He pulls his glasses off for a second and rubs his temple. “If any man touches you, you get turned up to ten and are ready to blast off at any second?”

“Yes, basically,” I clip out as he replaces his glasses on his nose.

“What do you mean ‘basically’ that’s what happens?”

“Well …” He looks at me quietly and I swallow hard, not wanting to admit this. “Some people are more intense than others.”

His cheek feathers at that comment.

“Does it happen with girls?”

“I’m not into girls.”

“So, itisan attraction thing.”

“I guess.”

“And if you kissed Connor …” he fishes.

“Look,” I snap. “Yes, you could conclude that in the most generic way, Connor is a traditionally good-looking man that’s close to my age, and thus is attractive. He wouldn’t be the worst choice for species procreation.”

Simon’s cheek pinches, making the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “You’re telling me that if Ned’s seventy-five-year-old grandpa kisses you on the cheek at the wedding … you’renotgoing to be rushing off to the restroom?”

I cross my arms over my chest and frown at him.

“Let me clarify,” Simon continues, that boyish smile spreading across his face again. “I’mmore intense.”

I keep my arms crossed, not wanting to admit anything … though, Jiminy Crickets, he was!

“If you want to compare yourself to a seventy-five-year-old grandpa,” I clip out, “then I suppose you have a point.”

“Oh, no no no,” Simon says, hooking a finger into the tie at my waist and pulling me toward him. “You’re into me. That’s why it’s more intense. You like me.”

His hands clamp onto my waist again, and my internal organs decide being broiled alive is a great idea. Fingers dig into my hips and I go light headed, eliciting a smile from Simon as he realizes each one of his touches produces a reaction in me.

I slap my hands over his hands to remove them, but the zip of our skin connecting is palpable—my eyes flicking to his lips, hungrily.

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