The only thing she could do was tell him the truth: that ithadbeen convincing. Even though that meant he was definitely going to do it again. Hell, he almost looked pleased with himself when she said it. Maybe even gained confidence in his ability to casually touch his fake girlfriend. Her only respite was when he added, “But just be sure to tell me if I do anything you don’t want.”
Yet somehow even that didn’t feel like one.
Because now she was thinking about the care he was taking. How different that was from even real relationships she’d been in. And it made her almost unravel, before they’d even gotten a tenth of the way through this. There were still hours to go, surrounded by people who were convinced of their passionate love.
Morethan convinced, really. They were all excited about it.
One of the members of staff there was wearing a T-shirt with an image of them grabbing each other emblazoned across the front. Even though Daisy felt very sure that there hadn’t been time for people to get merch like that together.She must have made it herself, she thought, as the woman excitedly babbled on about it being so wonderful to see true love win in these trying times.
At which point, he practicallyhadto put a hand on her knee.
It was just good sense to. There was no other thing he could do.
It just didn’t feel like it, once his hand was there. Soft as a whisper, despite how not soft he typically was. Hot as molten lava, even through all that corduroy. Far bigger than it usually seemed, and certainly heavier.
It weighed on her, to an almost impossible degree. She kept glancing down to see if flesh had somehow turned into stone. And the urge to move it away was extremely strong. She slid her hand close to his twice to do it. But in the end she just couldn’t go any farther. And not just because it might give the wrong impression to a fan of his.
There was also the impression it would give toMiller.
That this was affecting her somehow. Even though it wasn’t affecting him at all. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the feel of her knee beneath his hand. Or the curve of her back when he skimmed his palm over it. Or even her hand in his, once his event was nearly over and she was called onstage to play her part.
He took it like he had been doing things like this his whole life.
Instead of doing them so little that he’d freaked out the night before. She could still see the shambolic way he’d gone about it, behind her eyes. The rush, the way he had to force himself, the jerky grab and shake. He hated any kind of contact of that kind, and yet he did it all as if it no longer fazed him.
Like it was becoming second nature to him.
Or even like heenjoyedit somehow.
Which was probably why things felt the way they did after his event. They got into the elevator that would take them back to the lobby, just the two of them,entirely alone. Side by side, his arm an inch from hers. Their hands back-to-back and barely a breath apart.
And she could haveswornhe was going to close that gap.
The air between them actually felt electrified with it. Pregnant with the promise of it, and more so with every second that ticked by. She found herself looking up at the red countdown to the floor they wanted above the doors, willing it to go faster. It seemed to crawl from five to four. Then stall between four and three.
And now that space between them wasn’t just fat and crackling with electricity. It washot. It was heating up. It was setting her on fire—like in the car, but somehow stronger. More like it could force her to do something very stupid before she could stop herself.
Such as make the move he never would.
Take his hand, just to break the tension.
Even though that was ridiculous. He would think she had gone mad. She felt as if she had, just imagining it. She had to remind herself that this was her mortal enemy standing next to her. A man she hated, a man who had made her life miserable—and nothing had changed.
He was just pretending it had.
Doing tender things to make this work.
Only her body wasn’t apparently processing the tender things that way. It was just accepting them at face value—and to such a degree that she almost ran out of the elevator the moment it pinged. She came fairly close to shoving at the gap between the doors before they were even fully open.
He had to walk fast to keep up.
But he did catch up, because he opened the door to the lobby for her. Then the door out of there for her—the back one, to avoid the gaggle of press that had assembled round the front. And finally he did it with the whole-ass car door, too.
Honestly, if he opened one more thing she was going to lose it.
She almost told him so, as it was.
Stop doing things for me, she wanted to yell. But he did them anyway.
