“What do you mean?”
“What if we turned some of them into truths?”
His hand stilled at my waist. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “Which lies?” he said.
“It wouldn’t mean anything,” I said. “It would be... method acting. Research.”
“Whatwould be method acting?”
Instead of answering, I let my eyes drop to his mouth and moved toward him, slow enough for him to catch on and say no or pull away.
But Ollie didn’t say anything. The space between us hardly existed, but he leaned in and met me halfway. When we kissed, his mouth moved against mine, as gentle as it had been the day Xav had married us on theSerendipity. We pulled back at the same time, looking at each other as if assessing for damage after a hurricane.
“Is this... a good idea?” Ollie said.
“I don’t know.” I wondered if the kiss would break something between us. I couldn’t tell. At that moment, I wasn’t sure I cared. I wanted my fingers in his hair. I wanted his mouth against my throat. I wanted it everywhere. I wanted to take everything he had and then some. I wanted, wanted, wanted.
It didn’t have to mean anything. It was a game. The only game I could think of in which everyone who wanted to win, could.
“Maybe we should do that again,” I said. “Just to be sure.”
We kissed again, but this time Ollie pulled me on top of him, sending the couch pillows toppling to the floor. I sank my hands into his hair, kissing him again and again, but I wasn’t surer of anything. Icouldn’t think. I could only feel. Ollie and his mouth. Ollie and his hands. Ollie and every part of him beneath me.
Ollie’s mouth trailed down to my jaw. “Is this still okay?” he said.
“Yes.”
“And this?” he asked, his mouth moving to my neck.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You purr like a kitten.”
“Shut up.”
Ollie’s hands slipped under my shirt, running up my sides before pausing at my ribs. “How much... research... are we doing?”
I whipped off my shirt and pulled his hands over my breasts. “We’re getting PhDs.”
Ollie stared at my hands over his. “Dr.Dunne, I like the sound of that.”
“Shut up, Ollie.”
We made out on the couch until I was positive I could write an entire thesis on Oliver Dunne’s mouth and hands. If my knee ached, I didn’t notice, because every part of me did. Ollie tugged at the elastic in my hair, and I laughed when it shot across the room. My hair tumbled over my shoulders like a dark wave. It probably looked wild, lumpy from how long I’d worn it up. But there wasn’t a trace of humor in Ollie’s expression when he looked up at me and took a strand between his fingers.
“Beautiful,” he said.
I wasn’t sure if the words were for me or not. I remember thinking that whatever game we were playing, we’d moved on to the next level, but I couldn’t tell if this was winning or losing.
Ollie’s shirt had disappeared at some point, and I delighted in the feel of his skin along mine when he rolled me beneath him and pressed me into the couch. He tilted my head to the side, laughing as he took one of my unicorn earrings between his fingers.
“What?” I said.
“I’m just glad you like them.”
When his eyes left the earring and met mine again, I could hardly breathe. How much of this was proximity, and stress, and physical attraction? How much of this was acting? Could you research something this lovely? Could you know everything about it and not lose yourself in it completely?
I decided not to think about that, because if Ollie was something I could get addicted to, then I needed to stop before things went too far. But perhaps it was already too late. Not a single part of me wanted to stop.
