Her eyes glint in a playful, dangerous way. “Oh, we’re asking nicely now? Since when?”
I bite back a smile. Flirting with Madeline is on the top of my list of favourite things to do. “Since I’m holding the fork.”
Her gaze flicks to it, then to me. “Then feed me.”
My breath stutters, but I dig my fork into the cake, lifting a gooey, perfect bite. She eases closer without being told—her thigh pressing fully against mine now, heat curling under my skin. I hold the fork in front of her mouth, and she parts her lips slowly and confidently, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. When I slide the bite past her lips, her eyes flutter closed and a low, sinful hum vibrates in her throat.
Jesus.
She licks a smear of chocolate from her bottom lip, eyes opening again, warm and dark and full of want.
“Good?” I ask, my voice not nearly steady enough.
“You have no idea,” she murmurs.
I swallowed hard, the fire table crackling between us, the night soft and quiet, her shoulder brushing mine every time she breathes.
“So, you wanted to talk?” Madeline twists to face me. A piece of hair has fallen loose and without thinking I reach out to tuck it behind her ear, then I run the tips of my fingers down the length of Madeline’s arm. She shivers.
I try to keep my voice steady. “Yeah. I do.”
Ever since we spent the weekend together, I’ve been walking around with her under my skin. I’ve been giving her time to reconcile it all in her mind, worried that she might regret sleeping with me. Hoping she hasn’t changed her mind. But I amdonebeing patient. With every day that passes, I become even more certain that what I’m feeling for my fake girlfriend is very real. And it’s more than attraction. I have a big fucking crush on her.
“I wanted to say something…about that night,” I tell her, my thumb brushing the soft inside of her wrist.
Her eyes flick up. I can feel her nerves kick into overdrive. “Jesse…”
“I don’t regret it,” I say softly, before she can spiral. “Not even for a second. I never have.”
Her breath catches.
“I’m glad it happened, Mads.” My lips curve, just a little. “Really glad. And I want you to know that I think about it all the time, hoping it will inevitably happen again.”
She swallows. “After everything that happened the next morning, I thought maybe…”
“That didn’t change anything,” I tell her. “I liked being with you, Mads. I liked being close to you. That’s the problem. I liked it way too much.” Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. “And I,” I add, leaning in just a fraction, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
The noise she makes sounds almost like a whimper. Sheleans into me, forehead brushing my shoulder, her body melting against me, almost like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.
“That was…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “That was incredibly hot, Jesse.”
My pulse kicks.
“Good job ruining my self-control,” she says. “Sitting through the rest of tonight like this is going to be torture.”
My brain short-circuits. “What did you just say?” I ask, not quite trusting my own ears.
She snorts—a tiny, mortified laugh—and lets her head fall fully against my shoulder. “Oh, you heard me,” she laughs. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”
“I’m not pretending,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I’m just trying to survive.”
“What you said to me just now? That was straight out of one of the romance books I read.”
“Yeah? So, you’re a romance fan?”
She groans into my sleeve. “Oh my God, yes. I read them. I listen to them too. It’s like—” she waves a hand vaguely “—porn for your…ears.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Porn for your ears?”
