Page 22 of Faking All the Way
As we’re getting ready to leave, Asher’s arm slides around my shoulders while we say our goodbyes. The gesture feels so much less forced than the way I grabbed him at the airport, easy and almost unconscious, as if he’s done this a hundred times before.
But the moment we’re out of sight of the house, walking toward the car, his arm drops away.
The sudden absence of contact feels like cold water, jerking me back to reality. Right. The act he was putting on all evening—supportive boyfriend, interested partner—is done now that we no longer have an audience.
“That went well,” he says as he opens the passenger door for me. “Your parents seem nice.”
“Yeah.” I give him a bright smile, trying to hide the weird disappointment settling in my chest. “Thanks for… you know. Playing along.”
He nods, already moving around to the driver’s side, and I can’t help wondering what he really thought about the evening—or if he’s thinking about it at all.
Chapter Ten
Asher
The knock at the guest house door is soft but insistent. I check the clock—2:17 AM. Who the hell would be here this late?
I pull on a t-shirt and pad to the door, opening it to find Kat standing on my porch in an oversized sweater that barely covers her thighs. Her hair is tousled, her bright green eyes wide with something that looks like embarrassment.
“I know it’s late,” she says, shaking her head and making her dark hair shimmer under the moonlight. “But the power went out in the main cabin, and I can’t find the circuit breaker anywhere. I tried using my phone’s flashlight, but I think the battery’s dying, and I don’t even know where to look.”
“Shit.” I grimace, stepping aside to let her in. “That’s not great. Come in before you freeze to death out there.”
She moves past me into the warm space, and I get a little hint of her scent as she passes—that enticing mix of almond and cinnamon that’s been stuck in my head since the moment we met. Her sweater rides up slightly as she turns to face me, revealing another inch of her smooth, thick thighs.
“Sorry to bother you in the middle of the night,” she continues, running a hand through her hair. “I should know where the breaker box is in a house I’m staying in. But everything looks different in the dark, and I got turned around?—”
“Don’t apologize.” I move closer, wanting to reassure her. “Let me grab a flashlight and I’ll help you find where it is. Probably just a tripped breaker.”
But when I reach for the flashlight on the kitchen counter, she follows, ending up right beside me. Close enough that her shoulder brushes against my arm and I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin. The contact sends heat shooting through my entire system.
“Thank you,” she says softly, looking up at me with those eyes that somehow seem to shine even in the darkness. “I…”
There’s something in her voice, something breathless and uncertain, that makes my pulse quicken. We each turn a little, and we’re no longer standing side by side, but face to face in the small space. Her full chest rises and falls as she draws in a deep breath, her lips parting slightly on the exhale.
“Kat…” I start to say, my voice coming out rougher than I mean for it to.
She reaches up then, her fingers coming to rest against my chest, splaying over the thin cotton of my t-shirt. I can feel the heat of her palm burning through the fabric, can hear the way her breathing has changed—faster now, more shallow.
“Asher,” she whispers, and the way she says my name makes my blood heat.
I should step back. I should grab the flashlight and walk her back to the main cabin like a gentleman. Instead, I find myself reaching up to cup her face, my thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone the way I wanted to do but didn’t that first time I kissed her.
She leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment, and when she opens them again, her head tips up in silent invitation.
It’s an invitation I can’t fucking resist.
When our lips meet, it’s nothing like the public performance at her parents’ house under the mistletoe. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I respond by backing her against the counter, my body pressing against hers.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth, and I deepen the kiss as I?—
The sharp blast of my phone alarm jerks me fully awake.
Light streams through the cracked curtains of the guest house window, bright enough that I know I’ve slept later than usual—usually, I wake up well before my alarm goes off.
It’s morning, not the middle of the night, and I’m not kissing Kat.
I sit up, trying to shake off the dream, but it was vivid as hell. Real feeling, in a way that has me disoriented for a few seconds. Her scent, the weight of her body against mine, the feel of her curves as my hands moved over that soft sweater…
