Page 102 of Face Off With Fate

The fireworks started the second I slipped out of the suite level.

Half the crowd had their faces tipped to the sky, which worked in my favor. I rushed down the corridor, pulse ticking higher the closer I got to the black and white sign.

The heavy stairwell door groaned when I pushed through it, the sound swallowed almost immediately by another crack overhead.

Butterflies erupted low in my stomach at the sight of Monroe, standing in the middle of a concrete stairwell. For three hours it had killed me, watching him sitting next to Itzel, their heads tucked together as they talked, him looking every bit the devoted boyfriend the PR campaign needed him to be.

Just like I’d planned.

And I hated it.

Every single second of it.

Which made me an idiot, but that was a problem for later.

The metal door burned through the jersey’s thin material, my back pressed to it.

I dragged my eyes over him. “Aren’t you supposed to be with another woman right now?” I teased, hoping it’d hide the chaos pulsing through my body—the nerves.

He pushed off the wall, stalking me down. My stomach did a traitorous drop as cedar and something clean wrapped around me, tempting me to lean in and close the last few inches between us.

“I’m with exactly who I’m supposed to be with, Trouble,” he said, breath dancing across my cheek, trailing after the pad of his thumb as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“Monroe.” I’d meant it to sound sharp, scolding, but it was soft, and a little unsteady.

“Graciella,” he mimicked, cupping my face and tilting it toward him. “She’s not the woman I want to be with.”

The air left my lungs in a rush I couldn’t control.

“We can’t⁠—”

“No.” His voice was low. Certain. “You don’t get to look at me like that and then act confused now.”

My throat felt tight. “What look?”

“The one that makes me want to press you up against that damn door behind you and prove you’re the one I want right now.”

My lips parted.

I didn’t have a single thing to say to that, which was maybe a first.

Another firework detonated somewhere above us, close enough that the vibration moved through the metal door. I barely registered it…too busy cataloging every small detail—the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes hadn’t blinked, the slight rise and fall of his chest.

He dropped his forehead to mine. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Something cracked open in my chest at his whisper.

“Josh—”

He kissed me before I could figure out what came next.

Rough hands framed my face, the door aiding in keeping me standing on my weak knees as he took my breath away.

My fingers found the front of his jersey and curled in, gripping the fabric hard enough that the stitching bit into my palms.

God, I loved this.

I hadn’t let myself say it out loud, hadn’t even let myself think it, but standing there with his mouth moving against mine, the truth of it was impossible to keep tethered.