One hand slides across her back as I pull away, my fingers lingering for just a second too long before I force distance between us.
I’m too wound up around Taylor. I need space. But even now, I can’t seem to put enough distance between us.
“Try the windowpane test again.”
She complies without hesitation, and the dough gives easily, thinning into a cloudy, flimsy membrane we can see right through.
“We did it!”
Taylor squeals, bouncing on her toes before turning and wrapping her arms around me, her cheek nuzzling against my chest.
Slowly, I lower my hands to her back, rubbing in small circles.
“Alex, I’ve never been able to do this on my own before. I thought I had my ratios all wrong. Oh gosh, thank you so much.”
Her excitement spills out in an unrestrained, carefree ramble. I don’t try to stop the smile that pulls at my mouth. Instead, I rest my chin against the top of her head as she clings to me.
We stay like that longer than we should.
Her pressed against me. Me, memorizing the feel of her beneath my hands, the softness of her curls brushing my jaw, the warmth of her against my chest.
Taylor shifts, pulling back just an inch, her face tilting up toward mine.
Fuck—her pupils are blown wide, and the sight knocks the wind out of me. I clench my jaw against the sharp jolt that goes straight to my core.
I shouldn’t be looking at her like this, but I am.
And I don’t think I could stop, even if I tried.
I don’t want to.
Her gaze drifts between my eyes and lips, a slow smile creeping across her face. She slides her hands from my back, circling around to my stomach, then higher, over my chest.
Goosebumps spread across my body at her touch.
I catch her by the wrists, halting her exploring hands.
Her smile falters a fraction.
“Taylor, we can’t,” I whisper, tipping my head toward the camera.
She glances over her shoulder, then back at me. The rejection and disappointment on her face threatens to crack my resolve.
Stepping back, I put more space between us.
“I don’t care about the cameras, Alex,” she says. “I like you. And I think you might like me, too.” Her voice wobbles at the edges, another attack on my self-control.
“That’s the problem,” I confess. “I do like you, Taylor. And that’s exactly why we can’t do this. Not here. Not with an entire production team watching, waiting to twist whatever they want for their own agenda.”
She takes a small step forward, closing the distance I just created.
Oh, my bold, brave girl.
“People meet in crazy ways every day. We wouldn’t be the first two contestants on a show to start something outside the competition.”
My father’s words war with my growing need for Taylor.
I’m here to win over the American audience. Making a move on this incredible woman and lettingFluxTVturn us into a spectacle could backfire. That wouldn’t live up to “Harrington excellence”.
