Page 33 of Perfectly Faked

“Dishes?” He gives a low chuckle. “Nice try, but you were definitelynotthinking about dishes. I know that look in your eye.”

“What look?” I say innocently.

One corner of his mouth tips up. “It’s the same look you get when you’re thinking about devouring a bite of triple-layer chocolate cake.

I blink, wishing Ihadbeen thinking about cake. That would be a lot easier to explain.

He studies me. “Or maybe it was something else entirely... like kissing,” he adds.

I scoff. “Kissing? Please.” I grab a towel and snap it toward his leg.

“Hey!” he yells. “What was that for?”

“You’re breaking the rules.”

“What rule? I’m trying to help.” Leo takes the dish from my hand, our fingers brushing for a split second as he rinses it. A small tingle shoots up my arm.

Why do I feel like everything with Leo is a game to see who will outlast the other? And why does it seem like I’m the one who’s always losing?

“I don’t know, but I need to add a rule that says no flirting,” I say, lifting an eyebrow.

“No,” he says, firmly, wiping the dish. “That’s one rule I won’t agree to.”

“Why not?” I frown.

“Because I like to see your cheeks turn pink,” he says giving me a smile that’s adorably infuriating. “It’s cute.”

He’s smiled so many times in the last few minutes, I’ve lost count.

“My cheeks don’t turn...” Before I can finish, Leo scoops up soap bubbles and streaks them across my cheeks. “Here’s how you hide them.”

Okay, so maybe Idoblush every time he smiles at me. Right now, my whole face feels like it’s about to melt off. It’s not my fault he’s so darn charming.

“Oh, really? Two can play this game.” I take a handful of soap bubbles and smear it across his chin. “There. We’re even. You even look a little like Santa.”

When I turn back to the sink, I feel the sharp flick of something against my butt.

I wheel around, my mouth open. “Did you just snap a towel... at my butt?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, a smile tugging on his lips as he flips the towel over his shoulder nonchalantly.

“Oh, but you did.” I nod, pointing at him, my hand dripping bubbles. “Guilt is written all over your face.”

“Even if I did, you never said there’s a rule about that.” He crosses those distracting forearms, daring me to challenge him.

“Well, now there is,” I say. “Rule breaker.”

His eyes darken. “Are you going to punish me?” Then his lips curve up, like he’s inviting me to.

I whip the towel at him, but he’s too fast. He grabs the edge of it and yanks it right out of my hand.

“Hey!” I protest. “That’s my towel.” I lunge for it, but he grabs my hands and backs me into a corner, right next to the fridge, where no one can see us. I’m not sure what game we’re playing now, but my heart is thrumming against my chest, and my breathing turns shallow with him this close. He steps closer to me, his hair falling over one eye, his face only inches from mine, the scent of his body wash making me dizzy.

“If you’re going to play games with me,” he says, his voice scraping, “the first thing to know is that I don’t like to lose.”

My body feels like melted wax, and every part of me wants to close the gap between us and crash his lips into mine, even though I know we shouldn’t. Logically, that would make everything impossible between us. But right now, my body doesn’t give a fig about what’s logical. I only want him.

He holds my gaze, and my eyes fall to his lips. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him right now, but I can’t seem to help myself. When I glance back up, his eyes are darker, his gaze heated.

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