Page 81 of The Fake Husband Play
And then my tongue is dancing with hers as she tugs my shirt from my pants.
We stumble through the door together, all heat and breathless hands, and for the first time today, everything else just…drops away.
Because I’m alone with her.
Chapter
Twenty-One
GRAMMERCY
The second we’re inside,she’s pushing my shirt up, her mouth urgent on mine. The polite, sanitized couple we played for the cameras dissolves like cotton candy in water.
Sweet, but flimsy.
But this…
This is real.
This is Elly and me, and the sea change of emotion surging between us. It’s so much more than lust, but all the protective, tender things I feel for this woman only drive the fire inside me higher.
Thank God, she feels it, too.
“Off. Need your clothes off. So bad,” Elly mutters against my lips, shoving the fabric up to my ribs now. I strip my shirt over my head, quickly tossing it to the floor so I can get my hands back where they belong.
On her body.
Her ass, her hips, her waist as she arches close and kisses me hard.
She tastes like white wine and promises I know she’sgoing to keep as her nails scrape down my chest. The slight sting makes me groan into her mouth.
She does it again, harder this time—Christ, this woman.
She drives me crazy.
We cruise across the room at mock speed, the bed sneaking up on us. When the backs of Elly’s knees hit the bench at the foot of the mattress, she stumbles, her lips leaving mine with a gasp as she sits down hard.
She exhales a breathy laugh as her hand flies to her forehead. “Oops. Forgot that was there. I’m such a klutz.”
“No, you’re not,” I murmur.
She looks up at me, her grin fading as our eyes lock. The air between us tightens, as electric as the moment before a storm breaks.
“What?” she whispers. “What are you thinking, Grammercy Graves?”
I shake my head.
Too many things. None of them safe to say right now.
How to tell your fake wife that you’re in love with her after barely a week? That you took one look at her when she was still a stranger on the street and just…knew?
That she’s already your favorite person and all you want is to spend the rest of your life sheltering her from the ugly world that roughed her up before you met—and to let her be your shelter, too?
So, I settle for a less intense truth. “You… With your lips all puffy and your dress riding up. You’re so beautiful, El. I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than you are right now.”
She studies me for a beat, then slowly, deliberately reaches for the hem of her dress…
Still gazing into the heart of me, she draws it higher.
