Page 21 of Better Not Pout
My brow lifts nearly to my fucking hairline.
Is there a physical part of this, and I had no fucking clue?
“I mean, um, we’re going to have to behave like a couple, Wells,” she stammers, more nervous than I’ve ever seen her. Idon’t have a whole lot to go on, but damn. It’s cute. Her fingers move to the ends of her hair, and she swirls it around the tip. “Couples kiss and hug and hold hands. That’s probably going to be so uncomfortable to do that. I mean, I know I’m just some random girl wh?—”
I promptly shut her up by closing the small distance of the couch between us and grasping her chin between my fingers, letting the rough pad of my thumb sweep along the soft, smooth skin.
I probably shouldn’t.
Nah, I really fucking shouldn’t, but who gives a shit.
“Any guy would be the luckiest motherfucker on this planet to be able to touch you, and if he says otherwise, he’s a liar.” We’re so close I can feel the soft puff of air that escapes between her lips as she sucks in a breath. “So no, having to touch you, kiss you, hold your hand when we’re in public isn’t going to make me feel uncomfortable. Even if it’s fake.”
She blinks up at me, slowly nodding, my hand moving lower, curling around the nape of her neck as my thumb traces the pulse point in her neck.
We’re both leaning in closer. Another inch and I’ll taste her, my blood thrumming with anticipation and need.
So close that I can taste the sweetness of my favorite bourbon on her breath as it ghosts along my lips.
Fuck, I want to kiss her.
But then there’s a loud series of woofs from Penny and Frankie, and she startles, pulling back, the moment suddenly broken by our apparently cockblocking weenies. Where’s the fucking irony inthat?
Rosalie tears her gaze from mine, looking anywhere but where I’m sitting. “Okay. Cool. Sounds great. Yep. That’s perfectly fine for me.”
Her words come out as a rush, and it makes me grin, knowing that the proximity and my touch affect her in the same way it does me.
My heart’s still pounding in my chest as she looks over at me, heat barreling through her hooded gaze.
Yeah, I’m in some real fucking trouble when it comes to Rosalie Sullivan.
nine
. . .
Rosalie
Save a Horse, Ride My Fake Boyfriend
Unfortunately,I have to admit that I am beginning to have a teeny, tiny, minuscule crush on my newfake boyfriend.
God, I know. I shouldn’t.I can’t.
I don’t even know how it happened.
But Jesus, the man is so freaking hot.
And despite my first impression of him, I’m starting to realize that I may have been wrong about him, and that has been a slightly bitter pill to swallow.
But I can admit when I’m wrong, and so far… I’m wrong. After getting to know him more the other night and finding out who he is beyond the guy that I first met, I’ve learned that he’s actually kind and cares deeply about his family and friends, and he’s a hard worker and the best dog dad.
There’s nothing hotter than a good dad in any form, and most women would agree.
And then there was the touching and what I thought was an almost kiss that has kept me up at night for the last few days.
I’m fairly sure I’ve never in my life been so tempted, but regardless of how badly I would like to climb that man like a twelve-foot-tall Christmas tree… we’re not going there.
The last thing either of us needs is to make this more complicated and messier than it’ll already be once it’s over. Even though our fake dating will be ending after the holidays, we’re still going to be neighbors. Our businesses literally share a wall.
