Page 31 of Igniting Sparks
Braden walks over, pulling me into a hug, and I breathe in his masculine scent. Never knew sweat could smell so appealing. “What I mean is that I’m becoming pretty protective of you, and the idea of another guy?—”
“There is no other guy. Just you. It’s only ever been you.”
Holy shit. I said it. Out loud.
Do I dial it back or just leave it hanging there?
Fuckity fuck.
Braden pauses and then nods, dropping a kiss to my forehead. “Okay.” He holds my gaze a few seconds more before pressing his lips gently to mine. “Okay.”
Then he walks out of the room, leaving me a helpless, besotted mess.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I walk toward it, pressing my fingers against the glass. “I love him,” I whisper. “I’m so in love with him.”
And I am.
For months, it was a pipe dream, but over this past week—hell, this last hour, something shifted.
When Braden kissed me and looked at me like I was everything, I believed it. This is more than a fake engagement for my aunt’s benefit.
I glance around the room and hug myself. He built me a dance studio just to watch me twirl. There is no way he would do that if he didn’t care about me.
And tonight, I’m going to ensure he knowsexactlyhow I feel.
Chapter 7
Punished for Being Good
Mina
Ninety minutes later, the party is in full swing. The music wafts up to my bedroom, along with the occasional peal of laughter.
No, it didn’t take me that long to shower and dress. I’ve been ready for an hour, but after peeking into the finished garage space, aka the designated party room, I hightailed it back upstairs.
I’ve been squirreled away up here since.
Told you I’m not good with strange crowds, and it’s more than afewfriends. There are at least a dozen people milling about, most of them women.
Still, I owe it to Braden to try. These people are important to him. He’s letting me live here and acting as my fake fiancé for the next several weeks, so who am I to balk at his demands?
With a deep breath, I stand and smooth my dress as a million questions flit through my brain.
Am I overdressed? Do I look ridiculous?
What the hell am I doing?
Nothing like social anxiety to ruin a perfectly good night,right? Obsessing over things that no one else in the room even notices—good times.
And time for me to get a move on.
Maybe it won’t be so bad.
Zane spots me the second I enter the room and waves me over to his station behind the bar. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“Please.”
A few minutes later, he sets a cup down in front of me. “What is this?”
