"Do you think we can really pull this off?" I ask, changing the subject to anything else but my current wet panty situation. "You know how they are. They’re going to have people watching us. Do you think we can convince them you’re my boyfriend?"
"Fiancé," he corrects.
I roll my eyes. "Come on, Callum. I've never had a relationship, and you’ve, according to the girls on my skating team, had relations with every girl on the planet, but never an actual relationship."
Callum cackles, shaking his head. "That little reputation I curated really took off. People are so gullible. They'll spread any rumor you feed them."
I narrow my eyes. "What do you mean?"
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs my wrist gently and slides me closer to him. My breath catches, and it’s not because I’m on high alert. It’s his touch, it just does something to me that I can’t explain. “Can you name one girl you’ve ever seen me with? Ever? Ever spoken to anyone that has said I hooked up with them? Not just a rumor or a rumor that someone heard from someone in some random class?”
Now that I think about it. No, I can’t. I shake my head, still giving him the most confused look.
He’s already on to the next subject without giving me a real answer when he says, "If we do this, we’re going to have to get up close and personal so people buy it. We have to convince them that you’re smitten enough to let me put my tongue in your mouth and my ring on your finger."
I smack his chest, laughing despite myself. "Do you think we can make this believable? I’ve been kissed one time, and it was at my fake engagement, Callum."
He strokes my face, his touch unexpectedly tender. His big hand is warm, steady, reverent. Oh, he’s selling this hard.
"I think it’ll be an easy job to make people believe that I’m in love with the most beautiful girl at Castlebrook."
My heart stutters.
"I didn’t know you were such a good liar, Cowboy," I tease, but the laugh catches in my throat.
He wiggles his eyebrows. "How are you with PDA?" I roll my eyes because I just told him he was my first kiss.
My cheeks burn. "Vincent was my first date, so I could use some PDA lessons, I think."
"That shit with Vincent was not a date," he snaps, and I think he’s actually pouting, which makes me laugh.
"You really do not like that guy, huh?" I say, before adding, "I guess if I’m honest, I’m not super comfortable or experienced with how to be a girlfriend."
His expression shifts. His eyes grow darker. Hungrier.
"That just means we’ll need lots of practice," Callum murmurs. "My girl would be comfortable sitting on my lap."
Before I can respond, he slides me all the way onto him.
The sensation is jarring, heat and pressure and his sheer size under me. My thighs shake slightly as I settle across him, straddling him in the cramped cab. His hands are strong around my waist, guiding me into place, and I feel everything. Every inch of him, hard and thick beneath me.
"I don’t think that asshole is going to let you go without a fight," he mutters, eyes locked on mine. "I wouldn’t, so I can’t blame him. But I can beat the fucking life out of him."
I gasp, and Callum takes the opportunity to lean forward, brushing his lips against mine.
"Kiss me, Lilac. Kiss me like I’m your fiancé." Callum looks at me for a moment and then says, “We need to act like a couple in and out of public if we’re going to get the upper hand.”
The second kiss of my life is like absolute fire. It’s raw and consuming. His lips crash into mine like he’s starved for something he doesn’t know how to ask for. His hands roam, awkward at first, like he’s navigating on instinct alone, but is determined to memorize every curve. He fumbles at my waist, then smooths upward until he's cupping my breasts through my dress like he’s afraid he might break me. I moan softly against his mouth, and it spurs him on.
I swear Callum’s fingers tremble as he pulls the neckline down, baring my bare breasts to the cool air. He breathes out hard when he sees me, like he’s never seen a girl naked before.I should be the nervous one, but he looks like he’s either overwhelmed or having a religious experience.
"Is this okay?" he whispers, almost reverently. "I know you don’t like when people touch you."
I still. Then, slowly, I meet his eyes and whisper, "It’s not that way with you. It never has been."
His mouth crashes to my chest, lips closing over one nipple, sucking hungrily. His tongue is warm, sloppy, a little too eager, but it makes me dizzy with how badly he wants me. He shifts to the other, tugging the dusty, pink bud into his mouth while his hands squeeze clumsily at my waist and hips like he can’t figure out where to touch first.
My head falls back, fingers knocking his hat off so they can dive into his thick hair, and he groans when I pull. He leans into my hands like he’s touch-starved, grinding his hips up against me as if he can’t help it.
