Page 65 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

“All of your grandfather’s favorites.”

“That’s…” He sucks in a lungful of air as his hand goes to my cheek. “So like you.”

“So you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea, Xuxuzinho.”

We stare at each other for more seconds than I think I can stomach. As his eyes dip to my lips, I get the feeling he wants to kiss me. I know I want to kiss him, but we can’t do that again. Today’s lesson is about dirty talk. And dirty talk does not require kissing.

I snag another apple from behind his head and toss it in the air. “I think we have enough apples.”

Monty licks his lips, nodding as he stalks away from me.

“What are you doing?” I call, even as I watch him stop beneath an apple tree to set up a red-and-black-plaid blanket.

“Taking a redo of our date last week.” Monty waves me over to where he’s stopped. “The rain ruined it. Plus, I’ve got pie.”

I’m immediately hit with the memory of his text from earlier, about him wanting to feed me. My stomach clenches and my chest flashes hot.

It’s fake. All of this is fake. You can eat some pie with your fake boyfriend and not dry hump him.

The trouble is, despite my internal reprimand, the moment Monty settles down on the soft blanket, and his emerald eyes lift to mine, I become a gooey mess.

The slutty glasses were bad enough. But the sexy fall setting, complete with a blanket beneath an apple tree and the dazzling autumn afternoon sun, is downright diabolical. And then, when Monty pulls out an entire pumpkin pie, I’m utterly wrecked and ready to drop to my knees for this man.

“Where did you get that?” I ask as I try to daintily drop onto the blanket, folding my legs to the side since I’m in a skirt.

“Vovo and I made it last night.”

“First you cook, now you bake? I don’t think you need my help learning how to be a good book boyfriend, Jake Montgomery.”

He appears pleased by that, though he doesn’t offer a response, instead grabbing a fork from the basket. Like a man after my own heart, he doesn’t cut the pie, but goes right into the middle and scoops out a bite before holding the fork up to my lips.

“Please, Xuxuzinho, let me feed you.” His words are as sexy as sin but it’s his next demand that has me whimpering. “Open.”

When the creamy cinnamon-pumpkin flavor hits my tongue, the next moan I make is for the food. “That’s incredible.”

Monty grabs another forkful and uses it to coax my mouth open again. Shit. This bite is even better. Is it possible to orgasm over a dessert? I’m getting wetter by the second and I’d like to pretend it’s because of the pie and not my fake boyfriend.

Monty reaches to scoop up another bite and I shake my head.

“Unless you want a full-on Meg Ryan moment right now,” I warn him, “I wouldn’t do that.”

“That would mean you’re faking it.” Monty smirks. “And I assure you, Xuxuzinho, there’s no need to fake anything when you’re with me.”

I cough out a laugh. “What we’re doing is the definition of fake!”

He drops the fork in an instant. One minute, I’m upright on the blanket, laughing at him, and the next he’s lunging toward me, pulling me onto his lap and tickling me.

“I’ll show you fake,” he taunts as I gasp between giggles.

I’m extremely ticklish and can barely breathe as I beg him to stop. I try to pull back, but he grabs my thighs to stop me from moving. And that’s when I realize two things. One, I’m straddling Monty. Two, his lips are just a breath away from mine.

The urge to kiss him, to meld our mouths together, tangle our tongues, and never stop, is impossible to ignore.

Monty’s eyes narrow as I wet my lips.

“Sorry,” I mumble, attempting to shift back and create some space between us. But at the sound of voices, Monty wraps an arm around me, holding me in place.