My hands moved of their own accord—one fisting in his shirt, the other still tangled in his hair—and I felt his grip tighten on my waist as if he wanted to pull me into his lap right here. His tongue moved against mine with devastating skill, each stroke sending liquid heat cascading through my body.
A small sound escaped my throat—something between a gasp and a moan—and I felt him tense, his fingers flexing against me possessively.
The restaurant vanished. The influencers, Rebecca’s instructions, our entire charade … all of it evaporated under the intensity of sensation. There was only the solid warmth of him, the scratch of his stubble against my skin.
My free hand slid up to cup his jaw, feeling the racing pulse in his neck, and his response was to kiss me deeper, hungrier, like he was trying to consume me whole. Like, if this was the only chance he was going to get, he was going to make it count.
This was insane. This was supposed to be fake. A performance. But nothing about the way my body was responding felt remotely like pretending.
The kiss grew more desperate, more urgent. His hand slid up my back, fingers spreading wide, and I arched into him. The heat between us was building toward something dangerous, something that definitely wasn’t restaurant-appropriate, something that felt seconds away from combusting into?—
Axel pulled back.
The abrupt loss of contact felt like being plunged into ice water.
We were both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine, his hand still cupped around the nape of my neck. Myfingers were still twisted in his hair and his shirt, and I could feel the thundering of his heart against my palm on his chest.
For one suspended moment, we just stared at each other. The question hung between us, unspoken but deafening:What the hell just happened?
But before I could even get my bearings, he cleared his throat and extracted himself from my grip, the cool air rushing in where his warmth had been.
“There,” he said, voice rougher than usual, not quite meeting my eyes. “I think that sold it.”
The dismissal hit like a slap with the world’s most gigantic hand.
Knox’s little sister,I reminded myself bitterly. That’s all I’d ever be to him.
“Right,” I managed, proud when my voice didn’t shake. “Good work.”
My phone buzzed.
Rebecca: PERFECT! They’re eating it up. You two are trending!
Success. We’d done it. Sold the story. Convinced the influencers.
So, why did victory taste like ashes?
“I need to use the ladies’ room.” I stood on legs that felt unsteady.
I didn’t wait for his response. Didn’t look back. Just focused on putting one foot in front of the other, navigating through the restaurant with my phone clutched like a lifeline.
Inside the bathroom, I pressed my back against the cool tile wall and touched my trembling fingers to my lips, still burning from his kiss.
This is good,I told myself firmly.We sold it. That’s all that matters.
Relief unwound some of the tension as I realized maybe we could actually pull this off. Save our companies. Save my family.
My body’s reaction was just biology. Chemistry. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.
Even if he’d kissed me like he was drowning and I was air.
Even if I’d kissed him back like my life depended on it.
Even if, for those few devastating moments, I’d forgotten we were supposed to be pretending.
I mean, honestly, with my business already in danger, what did I have to lose by continuing with this charade? Other than my dignity and sanity. I could do this.
Pushing off the wall, I straightened my dress and squared my shoulders before exiting.
