It wasn’t just agreement; it was fact. Liam felt a flash of something sharp in his chest. It was decided, there’d be no pretending. The kiss was inevitable, and when it came, it would be real.
“Okay, let’s start with breath and proximity,” the IC said. “No touch yet. Just energy. Eye contact. Focus. Let’s get you two comfortable with being close.”
Jacob stepped forward. So did Liam. Ten inches between them, maybe less. Jacob smelled like something dark and expensive. He wasn’t even looking at Liam yet, and still his pulse stuttered in his throat.
“Eye contact,” the IC prompted. “Let it land. Let it stay.”
Jacob lifted his gaze, and the space between them tightened, the rest of the room dissolving until there was nothing left but the weight of those blue eyes on him. Liam’s heartbeat hammered, because Jacob wasn’t the cold wall he had braced for. His gaze was alive with something he couldn’t name—danger tangled with temptation, daring Liam to hold and not flinch.
“Sync your breath,” the coordinator said softly.
Liam tried. Inhale. Exhale. Jacob’s breathing was maddeningly even, as if he had endless control, while Liam’s lungs stuttered along like they’d forgotten their purpose.
“Get as close as possible without touching,” the coordinator instructed.
They moved, and the distance collapsed until there was no space left, nothing that mattered. There was only Jacob—heat bleeding across the inches between them. Liam’s body betrayed him in every way; knees weakening, stomach twisting tight, hands twitching like they didn’t know where to go. He wasn’t being touched, but his body behaved as if he already were, every nerve pulling taut, every beat of silence between them heavy enough to feel.
“Okay, let’s move on to contact if you’re comfortable,” the IC said. “Arms and shoulders first. Keep it light and speak up if anything feels wrong. The goal is to learn your comfort levels and stay within them.”
Jacob moved before Liam could react, fingers brushing his shoulder, sliding down the length of his arm with deliberate care. Nothing theatrical, nothing out of place—and still it felt like a live wire sparking through his skin. Liam held still, terrified the twitch of his body might give him away.
His turn. He lifted his hand, fingers grazing over the curve of Jacob’s shoulder before settling there, palm firm against muscle that flexed subtly beneath the fabric. He could feel the heat of him even through his shirt, solid and steady in a way that made his stomach tighten. His fingers twitched with the urge to slide higher, to trace the line of Jacob’s neck, to learn the shape of him the way his eyes already had. The restraint it took to stop himself felt impossible, every second a sharp reminder that this was supposed to be pretend, and he was already losing the act.
“Move to the jaw if you’re comfortable,” the coordinator prompted.
Jacob’s hand hovered, hesitating only a heartbeat before he let it settle at Liam’s jaw. His palm cupped the line of it, thumbbrushing across his cheekbone, and the world dropped out beneath him. His breath hitched audibly.
“Is this okay?” Jacob asked, the question directed only at him.
Liam nodded.Lie. Not fine. Not fine at all.
He lifted his own hand, tentative, letting it rest at the base of Jacob’s neck. His thumb grazed the ridge of his throat, and Jacob stilled—watching him intently. Liam could hear the blood rushing in his ears. His hand shook where it rested, thumb still grazing the warm line of his throat, too aware of the pulse beneath.
He startled at the coordinator’s voice, yanking him back from the moment with Jacob. “Very good,” she said gently, as if she couldn’t feel the crackling air. “Let’s pause here.”
Jacob’s hand dropped from his jaw, Liam’s slid reluctantly from his throat, and they both stepped back on command. Distance returned, but it didn’t feel like distance at all—not with Jacob still watching him, gaze now locked on his mouth.
“Check in with yourselves,” the IC continued, clipboard steady in her hand. “Did anything feel uncomfortable? Too much? Anything we need to adjust before moving forward?”
Liam shook his head automatically, though he couldn’t have repeated a single word she’d said. His pulse still beat wild, his skin hot where Jacob’s fingers had been.
“Fine,” Jacob said, eyes still fixed on Liam.
The coordinator continued talking. Liam heard the words, but only distantly, like they were being spoken from underwater. Jacob still hadn’t looked away, gaze dragging over Liam’s face.
“Next, we’ll start with kissing,”the IC said, calm and professional. “We’ll begin with something simple—short, closed-mouth, no tongue. Then, if you’re both okay with it, we’ll progress to the open-mouth choreography. Still comfortable?”
Jacob’s eyes found their way back to his. His voice was certain. “Comfortable.”
“You okay, Liam?” the IC asked gently.
“Great,” he said—voice way too loud and bright.
The coordinator smiled faintly, jotting something on her clipboard. “All right. Let’s start with a five-second kiss, closed mouth.”
Liam barely had time to brace before Jacob leaned in and sealed their mouths together. His lips were warm, firm, and maddeningly controlled—pressing just enough to map the shape of Liam’s lips without giving him more. Stubble grazed his skin as Jacob tilted his head a fraction, angling their mouths. The simple adjustment sent a shiver racing down his spine.
Jacob pulled back at exactly five seconds, no more, no less, composure intact. Liam almost exhaled in relief—almost—because every nerve ending in his mouth was still tingling.
