Page 137 of The Fake Date Agreement

Will I ever stop opening my mouth and sticking one of my size eight feet inside?

His eyes rove my face, lingering for a second too long on my lips. “I can’t believe you’ve been on the same campus as me all this time, and I never saw you.”

I swallow as my fingers clench around his dark gray T-shirt. It’s his shirt or Iwillgive into temptation and run my fingers along his square jaw or his full lower lip.

“What would you have done if you had seen me?”

“Gotten to know you, and…”

His eyes settle on my lips, and I hold my breath when his head lowers. He doesn’t need to tell me what the other thing is.

He’s going to kiss me.

Caleb Boucher is going to kiss me, right freakingnow.

I must be near blue in the face when his lips touch mine.

He lifts his head slightly, a tiny flicker of amusement warming his green gaze. “Breathe, Myers. I just found you. I’m not ready to lose you yet.”

I take a breath, and Caleb touches his lips to mine, his sweet words as surprising to me as the uncertainty of his kiss. As if he’s afraid I might change my mind or that I don’t want this at all. I part my lips as I stroke my palms over his back, urging him closer, so he knows I like what he’s doing and that I want him to continue.

He groans as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming my body. He’s big everywhere, but he carefully braces himself over me so he doesn’t crush me.

I love the way he tastes. His lips are firm, his breath is hot, and there’s a quiet urgency in the way he sweeps his tongue into my mouth. It feels like he’s always been there. His body tucked against mine, and his kiss stealing all the reason from my mind.

He rocks against me. I clench the thin cotton of his T-shirt, and my breath catches as I whimper into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, breathing hard as he stares down at me. “Myers?”

What are words again? I think I forgot. “Huh?”

“I’m not crushing?—”

“No.”

He kisses me again, then breaks away, with a muffled curse.

“What’s wrong?” My grip tightens on the back of his T-shirt in a futile attempt to keep him right where he is. If he wanted to leave, grabbing his shirt is hardly going to stop him.

He frowns down the length of my bed as he shifts around a little more. “You weren’t lying about this bed, were you? My toes are curling over the end of your bedframe.”

It’s not that funny. Truly, it’s not. Yet my giggle sneaks up on me, starting from low in my belly and working its way up.

Suddenly, all I can picture is a giant bat with Caleb’s face hanging upside down from the branches of a tree.

I try to stifle my laughter when I catch Caleb looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“What?” he asks, smiling slightly.

Taking multiple breaks to catch my breath between uncontrollable giggles, I pant out the image in my head, and his deep, rumbling laugh fills my room.

"Shit, Myers,” he breathes, “I can't remember the last time I laughed like that."

Eventually, our laughter dies down. “You still want to stay?” I ask. “Even though the bed is?—”

“I do.”

I release my hold on his shirt, figuring there has to be something I can do to make him more comfortable. “Get up.”

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