27 #3
I rested my hands behind his neck and let his dark hair brush against my wrists. He gripped my hips and governed their decisions, his fingers catching on the gold buttons down my side. Left, right, left, right, left, right. We followed the whistle of the saxophone together.
My view was taken away as he pulled my hips in close.
I flipped my gaze up, and his eyes sucked me in and kept me bound.
He was so close. His hair was in mine, and my breath was between his lips.
I didn’t know where I ended and he began.
I couldn’t look away. He was so handsome it hurt.
It hurt to be stared at this way, knowing that some of it was an act.
Was this his trick to making every woman fall for him?
I was starting to see it. The muscles in his arms as he held on to you. The dip of his gaze to your lips. The sexy smirk with jokes in between that made you laugh with your entire belly. Who wouldn’t want to experience what it was like to be wanted by Kieran? Even if it was only for a second?
The desire, the want, the need. I understood.
God, I couldn’t believe I was looking at Kieran like that.
You hate a guy for three years, and then he kisses you once, calls you beautiful twice, dances with you thrice, and suddenly you’re a pool of hormones ready to jump.
His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “I have to tell you something.” He pulled away so he could meet my eyes.
What? I mouthed. It was easier than shouting over the music that was beginning to pick up, and safer than leaning into him and finding out what scent his shampoo was laced with.
He leaned in again. The music pounded in my ears but made room for his voice. “You’re better off without the ex.”
Oh.
“You’re too good for him!” he shouted over the music this time.
“You don’t even know him!” I argued, laughter shooting out as a result of his sudden passion.
“I don’t! But I know you,” he responded, and his smile quickly diminished to something more serious. Then his eyes searched my face for… an answer, an explanation, a confirmation?
Did he know me? It felt easy to say no. But—
My phone began buzzing in my purse. Cecilia. “Hello!” I shouted over the music.
“Luna! Thank God,” Cecilia exhaled. I shoved the phone against my ear, trying to hear her better. “Did you see the—”
I plugged my finger in my other ear. “The what!”
“The ar—”
“Wait, I’m going outside.”
One minute, I mouthed to Kieran, letting go of him and walking out. The night summer air felt cool in comparison to the heat radiating off Kieran’s body inside. I took a deep breath. “What’s up?”
“The article, did you see it! Deidra is freaking out—”
What article? I pulled the phone away from my ear to scroll through my texts—what the hell.
I was being flooded with text messages. I closed them and searched my name. Thousands of articles popped up, but they all used headlines with the same six words.
Jeremiah. Evans. Comments. Ex-Wife. New. Relationship.
“Luna, you there?” Cecilia cut in.
I opened the first article at the top.
“Jeremiah Evans speculates whether ex-wife, Luna Aldridge, is ready for love and if Kieran Alexander is realistically her type. He wonders if this is all a stunt—”
“Hey, are you okay?” Kieran’s voice came from behind me.
I twisted abruptly.
“They’re not going to believe it anymore,” I exhaled, inhaled, inhaled, inhaled.
“What are you talking about?” Confusion plastered his face as he stepped closer.
“This.” I waved my hand between us. “All these articles are reporting that this—us—is a stunt because of what Jeremiah is saying. No one believes we’re together, and now everyone’s resharing these articles and commenting on them and reporting that I’m some maneater, and calling me a liar, and a cheater, and—”
He grabbed the sides of my face. “Breathe.”
I stared into his eyes, and my brain hit a wall. I reached for a breath.
“I’ve done the fake relationship thing before; this happens,” he explained, trying to soothe me. But now I only felt more tense. Of course he’s done this before.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” I huffed, turning my head up at the starry sky to detour any tears, his hands falling from my face.
“Kiss me,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I nearly tripped, and I wasn’t even moving. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Do you want to prove to everyone this is real? There are about twenty photographers hiding out on this street alone, watching our conversation.”
“And kissing you is going to fix that?” This was the last thing I needed on my plate right now.
“It gives them something else to talk about. I may be an actor, but you’re not. They won’t think you’re faking it.”
“I… that makes sense.” Why did it have to make sense? This seemed like solving one problem with another.
“You were the one who said you were a good actor anyway. If you’re so good, then kiss me,” he said, daring me. “It won’t mean anything, remember?”
I exhaled. I could do this. I could be cool and not let this affect me.
I took a step forward and rested my hands under the muscles in his jaw, avoiding the look in his eyes, and leaned in. I caught the smell of his shampoo and allowed it to absorb me as I pressed my lips against his.