Page 147 of The Temporary Fiancée
“Of course.”
“I want to date you. I want to do things in the right order.” My heart is pounding; I’m worried that he’ll take this as a bad sign, an indication that I don’t like him, or that I’m not the right fit for him.
To my relief, though, he nods. “I understand completely. And I want the same thing.”
I exhale, leaning my face against his hand. “Okay. Good.”
“This is all new for me,” he admits. “It’s a little terrifying, to be honest. I’ve never been in a relationship like this—you know, a… a real one.”
“But you want it, right?”
“I do,” he assures me. “I really, really do. I just wanted you to know that I understand how you’re feeling, and I get why you want to take things slower.” He grins lopsidedly. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
I smile in return, happy to know that I’m not the only one who’s scared—and glad that he’s able to share with me. If we’re going to make this work, we need to be able to talk to each other.
“I don’t want to screw it up, either,” I tell him. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing. I haven’t had the best luck in relationships in the past, so this is all pretty new for me, too.”
“That’s hard to believe.” His thumb runs over my lower lip. His eyes are impossibly soft as they meet mine.
“We can throw ourselves into the unknown together,” I breathe. “You and me. It’ll be fun.”
“It will,” he murmurs in agreement. Then he lowers his head to kiss me, deeper this time. Heat stirs in my chest, and I reach up to lace my fingers across his back, anchoring myself to him.
He makes a hungry sound in his throat, a sound that promises more, speaks to his desire. I suddenly become aware that this is about to turn into more—more sex, more time spenttogether in bed. The thought excites me for a moment, before I remind myself that I have all the time in the world with him now.
And right now, he’s got work to get to.
I hold out a hand and press it against his chest. “I don’t want your dad to get pissed at you.”
He groans, huffing, and sits up.
“Or at me,” I add, “for distracting you.”
“He won’t have to know it was you,” Reed protests, “and I don’t care if he gets pissed at me.”
“You gotta go to work,” I say, grinning. “Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I don’t want to, but… fine.”
He rolls off of me and climbs out of bed, stretching. For a few seconds, I lie back against the pillows, admiring the lines of his body in the morning sunlight. Then I follow his lead, heading to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee while he jumps in the shower.
I scribble a little Post-it note for him while the coffee brews like I always do, but this time, as I doodle the little heart at the end of the words, I feel as though I’m in the middle of a dream.
Is this real? Are we actually doing this?
I stick the Post-it to the counter beside the coffee machine, then boil myself some water for tea and flop down onto the couch, waiting for Reed. As I do, I pull out my phone to text Riley—after everything that’s happened, she deserves an update.
ME: Omg, I need to talk to you
RILEY:?
RILEY: What’s up?
RILEY: Wait, is this about Reed? Tell me this is about Reed.
ME: You guessed it.
RILEY: AH! What happened? Tell me everything!
