How, I don’t know.
But somehow, I know he’s playing me for optics. He knows this is exactly what people love, selling a princess dream come true.
Perfect couple.
Perfectly happy.
Perfectly in love.
“All right, that’s a wrap,” Luis calls, looking up from the camera.
Brady breaks away.
He’s wearing this whisper of a smile like there’s a secret I’m not in on. All I can see are his lips.
Bladed. Lush. Deeply sensual.
Is this what it feels like when you’re losing your mind?
“You did it. Still feeling okay?” he asks.
There’s no way I can answer that question in a way that doesn’t make me sound psycho.
“Yep. Easy peasy,” I lie.
“You were amazing, woman.” He releases my chin like he’s only just realized he’s still holding it.
I step away.
Seriously, I need distance, space to catch my breath. But if he notices and thinks there’s a problem, he doesn’t look like it.
Maybe he feels the need for a breather too.
It can’t be easy mustering up that much passion to power-kiss a woman he’d never touch without this goofy arrangement.
Really, it makes sense that he kissed me and played it up for the cameras. We were making anengagementannouncement.
The kissing was kinda mandatory to sell the big lie.
The trouble is, nothing about kissing Brady Pruitt feels fake.
Yes, I’m well aware that’s all in my head and it shouldn’t be.
I can’t let this man make me forget this isn’t real, not even for a few seconds. He’s mastered the black art of kissing, and I’d better find a defense fast, before he leads my heart to the slaughterhouse.
He reaches past me to take a folder from Luis and then holds it out to me. “It’s all in there, your copy. Any questions, let me know.”
The money, he means. The legalese.
We’re right back to business—or did we ever leave it? The worst part is, I barely care about dollar signs anymore.
Scary.
Sure, Pawsome Hearts comes first and last, but in the inferno of his kiss, everything fell away.
I cared about the paycheck more before he kissed me.
Before he started a fireworks show in my chest.
