Page 23 of Faking It Right
His eyes searched mine, vulnerability evident in their depths. “And if I don’t know what I want to explore?”
“Then we take it slow. No pressure. We stick to the fake boyfriend plan and see where the road takes us.”
“Even though you’ve been waiting three years for me to give in to you?” he asked skeptically.
I shrugged, trying to mask the way my heart fluttered at his insight. “What’s a little longer? Besides, anticipation is half the fun, right?”
He studied my face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Slow.”
“Slow,” I agreed, even as every fiber of my being wanted to push him back onto the bed and demonstrate how not-straight he could be. “Now, let’s finish getting ready before your mom sends a search party.”
He glanced at the clock and winced. “Shit, we’re already late.”
“Totally worth it,” I said with a snicker. When our eyes met, he didn’t glance away immediately like he would have before. Instead, he held my gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” I asked, smoothing down my shirt.
“Nothing. But this is weird, right? Good weird, but still weird.”
I snickered. “Ryker, we crossed ‘weird’ the moment you asked me to be your fake boyfriend right after watching me get blown by another guy. We’re in uncharted territory now.”
“Fair enough.” He took a steadying breath. “Ready?”
“For dinner with your family while pretending to be madly in love with you?” I grinned, reaching out to take his hand. “Absolutely.”
His fingers tensed before relaxing into mine. “Please try to behave, okay? My mom’s going to be unbearable enough without you adding fuel to the fire.”
“Me? Misbehave?” I feigned mock offense. “I would never!”
“Right, and I’m secretly a unicorn.”
“Well, youaremagical in bed,” I teased, squeezing his hand.
He groaned. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. No sex jokes at the dinner table.”
“But I didn’t even make a joke about your horn yet.” When he shot me a look, I held my hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll save those for when we’re alone. But I make no promises about keeping my hands to myself. Gotta sell the boyfriend experience, after all.”
“Only moderate PDA,” he warned as he let go of me. “Nothing that would make my dad uncomfortable.”
“Got it. No blowing you under the table while Sawyer passes the garlic bread.”
“Harley!” He glanced around frantically, as if anyone was close enough to have heard.
I laughed at his theatrics. “Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly. I promise I’ll limit myself to feeding you bites of food, calling you every pet name in the book, and reminiscing about our first date with tears streaming down my cheeks.”
His annoyed huff was adorable. “I swear to god I will smother you in your sleep,” he threatened, but the laughter he couldn’t quite suppress ruined the effect.
“Worth it to see the look on your face. Besides, isn’t the whole point of this charade to be so convincingly coupled up that your mom gives up on matchmaking?”
“Yes, but there’s a fine line between convincing and nauseating,” he pointed out, running his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it.
I stepped closer, reaching up to help fix his hair. “Here, let me. You look like you just had a showdown with an electrical socket and lost.”
He tensed as my fingers combed through his hair, then gradually relaxed. “It’s not that bad.”
“It absolutely is,” I contradicted, smoothing down a particularly stubborn cowlick. “But it’s cute. Makes you look like you rolled out of bed after a vigorous round of?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he warned.
