“Maybe we should.” A deep, warm feeling unfurls in the pit of my stomach. “Fabes, do you still want to kiss me?”
She nods, moving closer.
“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” I tilt her chin up to meet my gaze. “Do you want to kiss me? Check yes or no.”
Amusement flickers in her eyes. “Yes. I want to kiss you. If you want—”
I don’t even let her finish that last sentence. Fuck yes, I want.
My lips crash with hers and her shoulders land against the wall, my hand cradling the back of her head. Whatever tethers were holding us backsnap, like we’ve waited long enough for this and can’t stand another second without it. Her lips part, and when her tongue brushes mine, something bursts inside my chest. I’m charged to full power. Illuminating the closet.
It’s hot and hungry and all-consuming. A swarm of need that steals every bit of my focus. A low hum of satisfaction vibrates between us. She’s so warm, so soft, so pliant in my arms. She grabs a fistful of my shirt, keeping me anchored against her. Myfingers pulse on her waist, knit into her hair.
She teases me, I tease back. Ipush hard, she pushes back. We meet each other at every beat, like we were perfect for this all along. Her nails graze my scalp, and I grip her hair, tipping her head so my tongue can dive farther into her mouth. Iwant to devour her, leave no space unclaimed. We’re not quiet at all, greedy grunts and moans traveling between our mouths.
This kiss is a feral thing. A desperate thing.
Her fingers hook into my belt loops, and she pulls my hips to hers. “Fable,” I groan into her lips as she presses herself against where I’m hard for her.
A whimper crawls up her throat. “You said my name,” she whispers, breathless. “Say it again.”
She’s beenFabessince we were kids. It’s a safe space. A boundary I’ve kept between us. But that boundary feels irrelevant with her lips against mine and her fingers tucking under my shirt.
A heartbeat before I say it again, Mia’s voice echoes toward us. “I wonder if they got lost,” she calls, stilted and loud, like she’s purposely trying to get our attention.
Fable pulls back, her laughter twirling around me. I bury my head in her throat, chuckling as quietly as I can. We stay like that for a moment, trying to catch our breaths. Her flowery scent hits something in my brain and relaxes the tension in my body, just like last night.
“One more,” she begs, shoving my shoulders away until she can grab my face again and pull me in for another kiss. It’s slower this time. Leisurely and deep, and I let myself get lost again. Ifeel the kisseverywhere—aching in my chest, sweeping up my spine.
A throat clears beside us and Fable pushes me away. She lifts her hands in surrender, like she’s been caught stealing government secrets.
Fuck, she looksbeautiful. Kiss-bitten lips. Mussed hair. Unbridled lust blazing in her eyes.
“I’ve distracted her as long as I can,” Mia says, crossing her arms at the bedroom doorway. “Think you two can participate now?”
Fable lifts off the wall immediately, combing her fingers through her hair.
I reach for her arm before she leaves the closet. “I’m going to need a moment,” I admit softly. She makes it worse when she dips her chin and stares right at where I’m straining against my jeans. “That’s not helping. Get the hell out of here.” I laugh, nudging her to leave the closet.
When Fable reaches the bedroom door, Mia sighs dramatically. “The things I do for the people I love. Fuck’s sake, Cathy can talk...” Her voice trails off as she walks down the hallway.
At the door, Fable turns back my way. There’s a small, secret smile on her lips and pink glowing on her cheeks, and I realize I’m absolutely and irrevocably fucked.
Chapter 22
Fable
Idon’t know if I’ve taken a steady breath in the two hours since that kiss. Have my lungs forgotten how to function normally? That’s my best explanation. Because it makes way more sense than the second option, which is that Theo kissed away my ability to breathe. Stole it right from my lungs.
That kiss should’ve been strange. I’ve known him for eighteen years. We’ve cried together while watchingThe Land Before Time. Iknow he used to put Goldfish on his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and that puke-green was his favorite color for about six weeks. Iwas there when he face-planted into the mud at school, and I wiped blood off his face with my shirt after a bike wreck when he was eleven.
All of that should’ve equalednotwanting to kiss him. It should’ve meant overwhelming awkwardness when our lips touched. But instead... the math isn’t working in my head, because instead, I want to kiss himmore.
This is a problem. A huge problem. Because that man is supposed to be myfakeboyfriend. Emphasis on thefake. This thing between us isn’t going anywhere.Can’tgo anywhere.
Yet that kiss was... incredible. Ithink it altered something in my brain chemistry, and all I can think about is doing it again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I peek over at him in the driver’s seat. His focus is on the road, but a smirk crosses his lips, like he knows I’m looking.
