Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
My face burns hotter. “We, uh… oh, right,” I murmur, realization sinking in that he’s absolutely right.
Lincoln’s shoulders tense, like he’s worried he’s overstepping. “I know this might be weird to just… bring up. But if we go in there, acting like newlyweds or at least a happily married couple, we can’t look like we’re fumbling around each other’s mouths. That’d raise suspicion.”
He’s not wrong. Of course he’s not. My heart pounds. “Okay,” I whisper, running my fingertips over the neckline of my dress to distract myself. “So we… practice, here. Now?”
His gaze darts to the hallway, as though double-checking that we’re alone. Even thought we obviously are. “Yeah, I think we should. Just… get it out of the way, so we’re both comfortable.”
I nod, my nerves fraying like a live wire. We’ve done more intimate things than a kiss, but somehow, this feels different—more vulnerable, more telling. A kiss is a statement, a public display of care or desire. And we’re about to leave and face an entire crowd of suspicious onlookers who might test our story if we so much as hesitate.
I take a breath to steady myself, stepping toward him so that there’s only a sliver of space between our bodies. He smells like cologne—something warm and smoky—and underneath that, the familiar scent of Lincoln, fresh and undeniably masculine. My pulse thuds in my ears, and when I look up into his dark eyes, I see them flicker with the same tension that’s gripping me.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, his voice laced with concern. “If you’re uncomfortable—”
I press a hand to his chest, my palm meeting the solid warmth of muscle beneath the suit jacket. “No,” I say, “I’m not uncomfortable. Just… nervous. This kiss has a lot riding on it.”
He lifts a hand, gently tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, the small gesture sending a shiver through me. “Right,” he murmurs. “Let’s just… go slow.”
I nod, throat too tight to form words. He drops his head toward mine, gradually closing the distance. I tilt my chin up, heart hammering so hard I’m sure he can feel it. The moment his lips brush mine, every thought in my head scatters like sparks from a flame.
It’s soft at first—cautious, testing. His lips are warm, slightly parted, and I can taste the mint from his toothpaste. My eyes flutter shut as a wave of desire surges through my chest. I press closer, letting my free hand drift up to grip the lapel of his jacket. It’s an anchor, something to hold onto as I melt into the moment.
Lincoln groans low in his throat, and that single sound knocks my pulse into overdrive. He slides one arm around my waist, drawing me flush against him, and the delicate press of his mouth becomes something more insistent. The second our bodies connect, sparks dance along my skin. With a trembling sigh, I open my mouth for him, feeling the slow sweep of his tongue.
My head swims, drowning in the heady mix of his taste, his touch. It’s not a desperate kiss—more like a slow bloom of longing, a pent-up tension finally unfurling. When he angles his head a bit more, deepening the kiss, I let out a muffled whimper, meeting his intensity. It’s a dance: he leads, I follow, then I lead, and he responds, each movement sending another wave of warmth through my veins.
Time seems to suspend. There’s only the low hum of the overhead light, the soft rustle of my dress as I shift against him, and the thunder of our heartbeats echoing each other. My hand skims up the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. His breath catches against my lips, and he tightens his hold on my waist, pulling me so close I can feel every ripple of muscle beneath that suit.
He feels so good.
Eventually, the need for air forces us apart. I draw back first, panting, my lips tingling. For a moment, I don’t dare open my eyes, just trying to catch my breath and calm the wild swirl of emotions. When I do peek up at him, his gaze is heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling in rapid succession. If the mission was to appear as a couple deeply in love, well… we’ve just nailed the audition.
“Wow,” I breathe, the single syllable trembling.
“Yeah,” he echoes, voice thick with astonishment. He clears his throat, stepping back an inch—not enough to tear away entirely, but enough to let the air move between us again. “That was… uh, good practice.”
A half-laugh escapes me, despite the lingering haze of desire. “Good practice,” I echo. “So, if we have to kiss at the club—”
“I think we’ll manage.” His lips curve in a wry smile, though his eyes still blaze with that same intensity that I feel thrumming in my chest. “We should probably go, though. Don’t want to be late.”