Page 85 of Things We Fake
My eyes narrowed on his. “You sneaky jerk.”
“Just getting into the New York spirit.” His grin was unrepentant as he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the stage.
The DJ handed us microphones, his smile almost as wide as Cam’s. “You guys ready?”
“Yes,” Cam said cheerfully.
I hiccupped loudly in the mic, creating a wave of hilarity among the crowd.
“This one’s for my fiancée,” Cam said into the microphone, and everyone started clapping and cheering drunkenly.
He took my hand and entwined his fingers with mine as the gentle piano intro of “Feels Like Home” spilled through the speakers. My heart softened like warm butter. Damn, he was good.
I gazed up into his eyes as he started singing. His voice was warm, smooth, and just a little husky. The lyrics seemed to come straight from his heart as he sang. My throat went tight with emotion so strong, so raw it could not be contained anymore. I joined him for the chorus, and he lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my fingers as he let me sing for him. And I did it with all my heart.
I didn’t care he wasn’t really my fiancé. I didn’t care he wasn’t truly mine. I wanted him to be mine, for as long as he would have me. I wanted him to chase away the loneliness in my life, the longing for someone to love me, to make me laugh, to ask me questions and care about the answers. I was in love with him, and I couldn’t fight it anymore. I chose not to fight it.
When the song ended he pressed my palm to his chest and drew me into his arms. The crowd cheered and whistled, then started chantingKiss, kiss, kiss.
I smiled up at him and lifted my lips to his. It was enough to make me ignite on the inside, and the strong quickening heartbeats under my palm told me he felt the same thing.
“Nice song choice,” I whispered against his lips.
“I meant every word of it,” he whispered back.
“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”
“Then let’s get you to bed.”
* * *
The night air was crisp as we stumbled out of the karaoke bar, his hand warm in mine, fingers laced together as though we’d been doing this forever. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the sidewalk, but the only thing I was aware of was him. The way his thumb traced idle circles over my knuckles. The way his body leaned just slightly toward mine, protective and possessive.
I was tipsy, but not drunk. Just warm and weightless, floating in that perfect space between reckless and fearless.
“In vino veritas,” I murmured as we stepped into the cab, nestling my head on Cam’s shoulder.
He chuckled, shifting so his arm draped around me, pulling me in. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
I turned my face up to him, breath soft against his jaw. “Only that I’ve never been more honest in my life.”
His eyes darkened, the playfulness flickering into something deeper. “What truth are you dying to confess, Susanne?”
The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. It was low, teasing, rich with something heavier that hung in the air between us.
I smiled, slow and deliberate. “That I want you.”
His breath stopped, just a fraction, but I caught it. His fingers flexed on my hip, as though he was restraining himself from grabbing me, pulling me closer to him and running his hands all over my body.
“Sue.” His voice was rough, almost a warning.
I didn’t want warnings. I didn’t want restraint. I slid my hand over his chest and brushed it against his strong jaw, feeling the quick, strong pulse beneath my fingertips.
“You’re overthinking again,” I whispered.
“I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret this.”
“I won’t regret anything.”
