Page 18 of Fake It Til You Break It

But what would be the point? He’d already seen me at my worst. He had witnessed the raw, unfiltered version of me I never showed anyone, and he was still here.

“That sounds dangerously like a challenge, Mr. Shaw.”

“And if it is? What are you going to do about it?”

I wasn’t bold, not like him, but I was tired of fighting him. More accurately, I was tired of fighting myself and what I felt for him.

Palming the back of his neck, I urged him closer and slanted our mouths together. While no blushing virgin by any means, it had been a while since I had let someone this close, and I felt clumsy and inept in my attempts at seduction. So, of course, my anxiety took over, and I immediately tried to disengage.

Beckett didn’t let me go far. Placing his hand against the small of my back, he jerked me closer, following as I leaned away.

“Don’t stop.”

If I had learned anything that night, it was that I didn’t have to pretend with Beckett, or try to be something I wasn’t. That didn’t make speaking the words any easier, but I took a deep breath and forced them out anyway.

“I’m a little out of practice.”

“Trust me.” He rocked his hips, letting me feel the erection trapped behind his zipper. “You’re doing just fine. Don’t stop.”

Emboldened by his response, I captured his face between my palms and brought his mouth back to mine. I did my best to silence the intrusive thoughts that told me I wasn’t good enough, to block them out and just allow myself to feel.

He kissed me gently, letting me take the lead, but despite his passiveness, I could feel his desire simmering beneath the surface. Leashed, controlled, but undeniable.

Then his lips parted in silent invitation, and I plunged between them, electricity sizzling through my veins as the taste of coffee and chocolate exploded across my tongue. I delved deeper, mapping and exploring, committing every subtle shift in his posture to memory.

I pulled away again, but this time, it was a deliberate choice. I wanted to look into his icy blue eyes, to see his expression so I knew exactly how he felt. Heavy-lidded and slightly dazed, his gaze mirrored my own aching need, and I shivered at being wanted so blatantly, so desperately.

Sliding one hand into his hair, I tangled my fingers in the soft strands, my cock throbbing when he responded with a quiet groan. Then I attacked his mouth again, licking and biting, branding him from the inside out, claiming him for my own if only for this moment.

My head swam, my heart thundered inside my chest, and my body thrummed with barely checked need. This stubborn, infuriating, remarkable man had awakened a gnawing hunger inside me, and there was no going back.

Whatever happened from here, I knew I would never be the same.

six

~ Beckett ~

Anotherwarehouse.Anotherparty.And this one was so wildly out of Jasper’s comfort zone, I couldn’t help but think he had been blackmailed into accepting the invitation.

The more realistic explanation was that there had been a series of unfortunate misunderstandings.

I imagined he had read “Blacklight Paint Party” and envisioned curated wine samplings and tulips in neon acrylics. Because it seemed highly unreasonable to assume he’d agreed to attend a rave on purpose.

It had been three days since he’d wrecked me with that kiss in his office, and while we had exchanged a few texts, I hadn’t seen him since then. Largely because our schedules hadn’t aligned,but I’d also kept my distance to give him time to process what had happened.

A part of me, however, worried that he had spent every second spiraling instead.

When we had said our goodbyes that evening, there had been the typical tension, the expected awkwardness, but nothing to suggest that he regretted the shared moment. Left alone with his thoughts, however, I wondered if that had changed while we’d been apart.

We had planned to meet at the event, but I had been waiting outside the warehouse for nearly half an hour with no sign of Jasper Ryan. It wasn’t like him to be late, and he would rather sacrifice his soul than ghost anyone. Even if he had decided the kiss had been a terrible idea, and we should never see each other again, he wouldn’t stand me up.

Translation? I was worried.

Any number of things could be at fault. Traffic. A flat tire. He’d gotten lost. Something had come up at the center that required his attention.

Logic and emotions rarely acted in concert, though, especially when I knew that none of those things would have stopped him from calling me.

Another five minutes passed. Then ten. At the twenty-minute mark, I had crossed the line from disaster fanfic into borderline panic.

---