Page 53 of Play Fake
It’s just the two of us up here along with a bartender and a server, who are murmuring in the corner. Everyone else went back inside for the auction.
We’re sitting beside each other on a sleek couch in front of a fancy little gas firepit offering glowing light and a bit of heat, but Ainsley shivers beside me.
“Are you cold?” I ask.
She nods, and I move in a little closer and toss my arm around her. She snuggles into my side, and it feels…good.
I feel content. It feels like she fits. She fucking just fits in so many goddamn confusing ways.
I jump up from my seat as soon as I feel it, and she seems confused by my sudden movement. I start to pace the rooftop.
Maybe it’s the whiskey, or maybe it’s justherthat’s making me feel fucking intoxicated.
“Are you all right?” she asks as she lifts to a stand.
I stop in my tracks and turn to look at her. We’re just a few feet apart as we face off, and no, I’m not fuckingall right. I’m more and more confused by the second when it comes to her.
I can’t seem to stop my feet as they close the gap between us. I slide my arm around her waist and haul her close—like I did at our wedding just a week ago.
But when my mouth crashes down to hers this time, it’s not for a photo op or some ingrained requirement.
It’s for me.
I’m taking a risk. Chasing the thrill. Doing what feels good.
And kissing Ainsley Riggs feels real fucking good.
CHAPTER 21: Ainsley Bradley
Boys and Men
I sink into him as his lips press to mine.
I’ve kissed plenty of boys. Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I haven’t done other stuff. I even kissed someone new as recently as a couple of weeks ago when I almost married Jordan.
But this? This is aman.
Yes, I’ve kissed plenty of boys. But I’ve never kissed a man. Not like this.
His hand moves to cup my jaw, and I let myself get lost in it as he opens his mouth to mine. His arm is tugging me against his body, and I feel how hard he is everywhere as one of my hands moves to his chest while the other dives into his hair.
I’m lost in him for a few seconds that are far, far too short as I realize what’s happening here.
I’m getting lost in a kiss that he’s just using for a display. This is a show. It’s not about getting me a little tipsy and giving in to this pull between us. There is no pull. It’s simply me fantasizing about the things I cannot and will not have.
Someone somewhere must be watching, and that’s what forces me to pull back from him. After I moan into him a little, naturally, becausewhy notmake it even more awkward and ridiculous? That’s just me. That’s what I do.
If he’s smooth and sexy, I’m a bumbling idiot.
I don’t know what to do or say as my eyes meet his heavily lidded ones.
It’s for show, I remind myself.
“Another drink?” I ask brightly. Too brightly.Awkwardlybrightly.
“Mm,” he says, and he not-so-subtly adjusts himself over his pants as he gives me a strange look, then beelines for the bar.
I blow out a breath, feeling like I made the right choice by ending that before it got out of hand. But still, something deep down feels…off.
