Page 74 of Tangled Like Us
“I take a lot of fault for what happened,” I say. “I’m hard to read, and I could’ve done better to ease her insecurities.”
She inhales a deeper breath that stretches a silent second into a boiling minute. Both of us hardly blink. Nearing a visceral edge.
Jane swallows and waves to me. “You’re very self-aware, you know.”
I don’t respond yet. Wanting to hear what else she has to say.
“And you’re respectful,” she lists, like she’s constructing a PowerPoint of my traits. “Very considerate, as well. All things I’m drawn towards—which is perfect since you’re my fake boyfriend.”
I throb harder. There is only one of Jane, no other person can be all of who she is, and anyone who harasses this girl might as well be tearing the wings off an angel.
I’m honored that I get to be the one to keep her safe.
She’s my duty.
I also shouldn’t want to fuck an angel.
She’s my client. Remember that.
Jane continues on. “And as evidenced by our history, we can clearly restrain ourselves. Which means we can be two consenting adults who casually kiss and not have sex afterwards.”
Our eyes roam beyond our old restraints.
“That sounds right,” I nod, and I study her flushed body, her ankles crossed like she’s squeezing her thighs together. “We should practice.”
“We should,” she agrees. “Kissing?”
“Kissing,” I confirm. “I’m a whole foot taller than you.”
“Exactly,” she notes. “If we just do it in publicwithoutproper preparation, it’ll be obvious that we’re fake dating.”
“And that it’s your first time.”
Her intrigue piques. “My first time…”
“With me,” I say strongly.
“Right.” Jane smiles. “Should we start now then?” She hesitates, waiting for my answer. “It will be a good litmus test to see if this will even work.”
It’s going to work.
Because the alternative is doing nothing, and I’d rather mount up and frighten away a bunch of targets.
“I’m good to go,” I tell Jane.
She steps away from her bed.
I pry myself off the door, and I do more than take a single step closer. I take several unwavering strides.
She goes still, seeing me approach, and her eyes glint with eagerness. I watch her savor my assured demeanor, and I stop a breath away.
The top of her head, along with her purple cat ears, just reaches my shoulders.
Jane cranes her neck to look up at me. Dark lashes shading beautiful, emotive blue eyes. Silence bands around us, the space shrunken. Air vacuumed.
“So…” Her voice is a breathy whisper. “I’ll just stand on my tiptoes.” She rises on her toes, but barefoot, she barely lifts herself past the broad length of my shoulders.
I could just lean my head down.
