Page 62 of Protecting You
“You know you want to.”
This might be all pretend, but he knew her too well. “I’m so full already.”
“One little bite. That’s all I’m asking.”
In pretty much any other situation, she’d clamp her lips shut. If she wanted to taste the tiramisu, she could use her own spoon, thank you very much. But he was going for maximum romance here, a little tiramisu-version ofLady and the Tramp sharing spaghettiscene.
Ridiculous.
Were they laying it on too thick? Was this how people in love behaved? She didn’t have a clue.
She opened her mouth, and he slid the spoon inside. She took the creamy, mocha confection onto her tongue.
Oh, my.
She couldn’t help a little moan of pleasure.
“Right?” Though he was smiling, his Adam’s apple bobbed like he’d swallowed what he’d really wanted to say—or maybe whatever thought had come into his head. Since she’d refused dessert, he pushed his plate closer to her on the café table. “Have some more.”
But he didn’t offer to feed her again, and by the way his skin reddened, that was a good idea.
She took a tiny portion into her own spoon. Somehow, it didn’t taste nearly as good as when he’d fed her. Then she sipped her decaf coffee. They’d both been served wine, but neither had finished a single glass. She’d barely touched hers, preferring the water they refilled from a carafe on the beverage cart.
They needed to stay alert tonight.
“We should ask who delivered the food.” They needed a new topic of conversation. “We could take dessert to dinner tomorrow.”
“Mom loves to bake.”
“We have to take something. It would be rude to show up empty-handed.”
To a fake dinner, Alyssa? Really?
She was getting far too deep into her role.
Callan smiled as if he’d read her mind. “Trust me.”
Yeah. He kept saying that. And it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. But she wasn’t sure she trusted herself tonight, not with this man, not in these circumstances. She needed space between them, a lot more space than this tiny round table.
He finished the layered confection, then stood and held out his hand for her. “Join me?”
She did, and he pulled her away from the table and into an embrace. “I’ve missed you.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “We have to argue.”
She wanted to ask why but figured he’d explain as he tightened his arm around her back and took her other hand in his. He started swaying gently to the music.
Fake.
All fake.
But being in his arms was even better than she’d dreamed.
And then he trailed kisses on her neck, and all coherent thoughts fled.
His breath was warm, fanning her hair, and tingles fluttered over her skin.
“I assume there are microphones.” The words were so low, she almost missed them. “If not cameras. In our bedroom.”
Ourbedroom?Wait.
