Page 72 of Just a Little White Lie

He’s being serious.

Oh my gosh, I don’t know what to do with that.

He sighs, running a hand over his short beard and looking anywhere but at me. “I’ve been attracted to you since you were twelve. I was sixteen, and it was totally inappropriate, so I started teasing you. And it was fun and easy, and your reactions were always so great.”

The water bottle is now trembling in my hands, so I set it down before I spill it all over myself.

I don’t know how to respond to this.

Jack thinks I’m beautiful.

He’s into me. He’s—

“And then you got back from London and you’re just…” He flicks a hand at in my direction, his expression pained as he scrapes his fingers through his hair. “You’re stunning and you’re…you’re my best friend’s little sister. Luke wouldn’t… He’d hate…” With a sharp huff, Jack shakes his head, then murmurs, “I have to keep teasing you.”

“Or what?” I squeak.

His gaze reaches me, our eyes connecting in a look that sends fire rippling throughout my body. “Or I might kiss you.”

He clears his throat, dipping his head and reaching for his phone again. Music starts to thump through the studio, and I understand his clear message. He might think I’m pretty, but he’s not going to do anything about it.

“Come on, Spaghetti Arms, let’s get this right.” He waves me over, and I walk across the room.

My insides are trembling, but thankfully my limbs comply, and I step the way he tells me to and lean with the music, swaying in time and getting my footing right.

I can’t think past“You’re beautiful”and the expression on his face when he told me his little story.

He’s liked me since I was twelve? And I was liking him and we didn’t even know?

And he has to tease me or kiss me?

I can’t even—

“That’s good,” he murmurs, moving in beside me and directing my hip with his soft touch.

I swallow, willing myself not to turn and look at him. His face is so close. He’s right behind me, leaning in, his breath tickling the back of my neck. If I just tipped back a little, if I looked to the ceiling, our mouths would be that much closer. Our lips could brush. I’m just about ready to do it when he steps back, a cold wind rushing into the space he’s just created.

My body prickles, and it’s taking everything in me to hold it together.

Jack wipes his mouth, tapping his chin with his finger and then nodding. “So, after that part, we’ve got sixteen beats before the music changes.” He holds out his hand. “We’ll get the kids to link arms and lean away from each other. In a circle, maybe? I’ll have to see what that looks like. But let’s try it with just the two of us for now.”

I grab his wrist and mirror his movement.

“Five, six, seven, eight and then lean forward.”

He pulls on my arm, but I’m not ready, and I lurch forward, smacking into his chest and throwing him off-balance. Catching me against him, he tumbles backward, and we land with a thud.

“Sorry.” I wince, resting my hands on his chest as I try to get up. “Are you okay?”

He nods, his eyes searching my face as he slides his arm lightly up my side like he can’t help himself. I love the trail of his fingers. They’re an intoxicating paintbrush, featherlight and thrilling. I’m on the verge of telling him to never stop doing that.

He’s still staring at me. Not staring… gazing. His eyes study me, skimming over my lips before darting to my hairline.

I’m lying on top of him, and our mouths have never been closer. His breath is mingling with mine, his chest rising and falling, matching my beat and rhythm.

I have to do this. It’s now… or never.

“Or now,” I whisper, obliterating the space between us.

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