Page 64 of Perfectly Faked

“Because I don’t want you eating your hair,” he answers.

I laugh, nudging him lightly. “No, I mean... all of this.” I wave my hands over the food. “A picnic on the beach in your hoodie.”

“Don’t even think about stealing that hoodie,” he warns, his lips curving into a playful grin. “It’s my favorite.”

“Then I’mdefinitelystealing it,” I say. “And hiding it in my room.” I grin at him as I toss a jalapeño from my taco into the cardboard tray between us.

Leo pops it into his mouth like it’s nothing, and I’m instantly reminded of all those times he finished my leftovers without a second thought. “That won’t stop me.”

“We agreed,” I say. “No coming into the bedroom.”

“I already broke that rule once, and I’m not afraid of breaking it again,” he says in a low growl I know is hardly a threat.

“Okay, Captain Grumpy Pants,” I say, giving him a playful shove. My cheeks ache from smiling. Sitting here, watching the sky turn golden feels like something I could get used to. “What happens if I wear it all the time, so you can’t steal it?”

“Hmmm, that might require me to take my hoodie back right now. Before your greedy hands refuse to comply with my demands.”

“Then you’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead body,” I shoot back, lifting a brow in challenge.

“Fine by me,” he says. Before I can react, he flips me onto my back so fast, it knocks the breath out of me.

If it were anyone else, I’d be furious at being pinned like this. But it’s Leo. His grip is firm but careful, his left hand holding my wrist while my right arm fights, unsuccessfully, to push him off.

“Leo, no!” I shriek as his free hand finds my ticklish spot. “How dare you!” I gasp between giggles, squirming to get away.

“What? You hate being tickled?” he asks innocently.

“You’re evil,” I mutter.

“Are you willing to give me my hoodie back?” he asks, pausing so I can breathe.

“Absolutely not,” I say defiantly.

“Fine,” he says, “then prepare to suffer.” His fingers find the same spot again, sending me into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

“Okay, I give up!” I cry and his hand suddenly stills on my side.

I look at his face hovering above me, his playful grin suddenly turning serious. One arm still holds my wrist over my head as his eyes drop to my lips.

“You’re not laughing anymore,” he notes in a low voice.

I drag in a shaky breath, my defenses finally crumbling. I’ve spent so long wanting to do the right thing, trying to please everyone but myself, that I’m finally ready to do something just for me.

“I’m thinking about... what I really want,” I say softly.

“And what do you want, Vic?” His voice is rough, but patient. Even if he wants this as much as I do, he’s waiting for me to say it.

A lump lodges in my throat, but I push past the fear. “How I’d like to kiss you right now.”

I trace the outline of his shoulders with my free hand, my fingers moving like an artist studying his features, not just with my eyes but with all my senses. The feel of his skin, the soft curl of his hair, the dips and curves of his muscles beneath my fingertips. It’s as though my hands are mapping every part of him—everything I’ve missed all these years.

I hesitate, my fingers stopping at the nape of his neck. Am I crazy for thinking this could still work between us? Thathe’d really give me a second chance after everything I put him through? Right now, it feels as if I’m standing at the water’s edge, daring myself to plunge into the waves.

“I just need to know...” I begin, my heart a drumbeat against my ribs. “...if you want me, too?” My heart feels as delicate as glass. One mistake, and he could shatter it instantly.

He gently pushes a strand of my hair over one ear, his eyes searching my face. “I’ve spent years tryingnotto want you, and I failed every single time.”

Then he leans down and kisses me, erasing all my doubts about whether he feels the same. As his lips move over mine, each kiss is raw and desperate, burning into a steady, consuming flame. His hand cups my face, his thumb stroking my jaw, like he’s holding back his strength, trying not to overwhelm me. When my fingers find their way to his hair, he gives a small groan of appreciation as he kisses my bottom lip.

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