Page 94 of Movers and Fakers

Chapter forty-seven

Rule Number One

Aurora Driscoll

I freeze, not sure that I heard him correctly. I’m eating ice cream in my pajamas with no makeup on. And he’s—

“You can’t tell me you love me while wearing a shirt with my face on it,” I blurt out, then snap my mouth shut.

That was probably not the proper response to a heartfelt confession, no matter how unexpected it may be. This is likely one of many reasons I’ve never been in a relationship.

A laugh bursts out of Hayes.

“Why not?”

“B-because,” I stammer weakly. “You—no, you’re not in love with me.”

His brows rise. “Oh?”

I stand up, feeling like my heart is going to jump out of my chest.

“You can’t love me. I’m snappy, and I hate attention and parties and socializing in general, all things you enjoy. I like quiet. My idea of fun is this.” I gesture to the melting bowl of ice cream with my spoon. “Not to mention at least half of our conversations involve me insulting you—”

“Did it ever occur to you that I like all of that?” he asks, standing up too. “No, I love it. I love that our conversations are like sparring matches. I love the way you hide in my arms at a party, and while it’s fun to go out, I’d choose this with you over anything and anyone else in the world. I’m in love with you, Aurora.”

My eyes sting with unshed tears. He takes a step toward me, gently pulling the spoon out of my grip to set on the cart. His hands frame my face, warm and strong.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he murmurs. “I just wanted you to know.”

I stare into his sparkling emerald eyes.

“I’m boring,” I whisper. “You’ll get tired of me.”

“You’re so far from boring it’s laughable that you think that. No one else gets my blood pumping the way you do. No one makes me laugh like you. No one makes me feel more like myself. It would be impossible to get tired of you.”

His thumbs run over my cheekbones in soothing motions. I draw in a breath and let it out. The storm within me settles beneath his touch. All the fears in my head go quiet for the first time in my life. I place my palms on his chest. Feel his steady heartbeat.

My confession is barely audible. “I love you, too.”

Hayes’s gaze lights up.

“Really?” he breathes.

I nod, a tear escaping my eyes and trickling down to Hayes’s hands. He pulls my mouth to his for a decadent kiss, and I melt against him like ice cream on a warm brownie. With each brush of his lips, I recall another part of his speech. I slide my hands up and around his neck. His touch slips to my waist, leaving a trail of tingling in its wake.

He pulls our bodies flush together, his fingertips digging into my hips. The slight pressure causes liquid warmth to pool deep in my abdomen. Our lips part in unison, and Hayes hums at the first taste of me. My hands rake through his silky hair. The nature of our kisses shifts into a frenzied passion. Our breaths become gasps, as though we’re coming up for air while swimming, only to dive back into bliss again.

Hayes drags his mouth over my jaw and down my neck, threading a hand through my hair and using it to tilt my head to the side for better access. Each hot press of his lips sends trembling throughout my body, and I have to grip onto him to stay standing. His mouth meets mine in another scalding kiss. But when he pulls back for a breath, I push on his chest.

“We should—”

He nods, though his grip in my hair tightens.

“Stop.” He finishes my sentence in a rasp. “That would be smart.” His eyes are hooded with desire when he pulls back and looks down at me. “Why do you have to be so painfully gorgeous?”

My face flushes. As if I wasn’t warm enough. I’m sure I look sunburnt at this point.

Hayes releases me and steps back, pushing both his hands through his hair and clearing his throat with emphasis. I giggle at how disheveled he looks, and he grins at the sound.