5. Hallie #3
I don't stop him.
His lips brush mine, feather-light, testing. Once. Twice. Soft and gentle and nothing like I expected. I thought he'd kiss like he works, all rough hands and raw intensity, but this is different. Reverent.
Like I'm something precious.
I make a sound in the back of my throat, and that breaks something in him.
His hand tightens in my hair, and the kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against mine, tasting like wine and want.
His other hand finds my waist, pulls me closer, and I go willingly, desperately, climbing into his lap like I've been waiting my whole life for permission.
He groans against my mouth, and the sound travels through me like lightning. I'm drowning in him, in the taste and smell and feel of Caius O'Connor, in the way his hands map my body like he's trying to memorize every curve.
This doesn't feel like practice.
This feels like everything.
"Hal," he breathes against my lips, and then he's kissing me again, harder this time, devouring. His teeth catch my bottom lip, his tongue claiming my mouth, and I'm lost, completely gone, threading my fingers through his hair and holding on like he's the only solid thing in the universe.
We break apart gasping, and I can't think, can't form coherent thoughts beyond more and yes and please don't stop.
Caius's forehead drops to mine, his breathing ragged. "That was..."
"Yeah."
"Really convincing."
"Super convincing." I'm still in his lap, his hands still on my waist, and I should move. Should put space in the center, should remember this is fake, this is just practice, this doesn't mean anything.
Except it does. It means everything.
"We should..." He swallows hard. "We should probably practice that a few more times. Make sure we have it down."
"That's smart. Very thorough."
"I'm very thorough."
He kisses me again, and this time there's no pretense of practice, no excuse of the fake relationship. This is just us, just Caius and Hallie, finally giving in to whatever this thing is that's been building between us.
His hands slide under my cardigan, rough palms against soft skin, and I arch into the touch, shameless and wanting. He makes that sound again, that groan that vibrates through his chest, and pulls back just enough to look at me.
"Tell me to stop."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because if we don't stop now, I'm not going to be able to." His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. "And this is supposed to be fake, and you're Ryan's sister, and I'm trying really hard to be good about this."
"What if I don't want you to be good?"
The words hang between us, dangerous and true, and I watch the last thread of his control snap.
"Don't pull away," he whispers against my lips, an echo of earlier, a command and a plea.
"I won't."
And then he's kissing me like he's trying to prove something, like he's been holding back for years and finally, finally gets to let go. I kiss him back with everything I have, pouring in all the feelings I didn't know I had, all the wanting I've been ignoring.
We end up horizontal on the couch somehow, Caius above me, his weight pressing me into the cushions in the best possible way. His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, down the column of my throat, and I hear myself make sounds I didn't know I was capable of.
"Hal." He says my name against my pulse point, and I feel it everywhere. "We should... we need to..."
"If you say 'slow down,' I'm going to commit violence."
He laughs, breathless and wrecked. "I was going to say we need to establish ground rules. For the fake relationship. Before this gets more complicated."
"More complicated than making out on your couch?"
"Yeah."
He pulls back enough to look at me, and his expression makes my heart stop. There's heat there, yes, but also something softer. Something that looks an awful lot like the way sixteen-year-old Caius looked at fifteen-year-old me in that photo.
"What kind of ground rules?" I ask quietly.
"I don't know." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "I'm making this up as I go. I didn't exactly plan for you to show up at my place looking like that and taste like everything I've ever wanted."
"I'm wearing a cardigan and jeans."
"I know. It's killing me."
I smile despite myself, despite the hammering of my heart, despite the fact that we've just blown past every boundary we set two days ago.
"So. Ground rules."
"Right." But he doesn't move, doesn't stop touching me, doesn't stop looking at me like I'm the answer to a question he's been asking his whole life. "We should probably... we should talk about what just happened."
"We could do that."
"Or..." His mouth quirks. "We could practice some more. Make absolutely sure we're convincing."
I pull him back down to me, and his laugh of surprise turns into a groan when I kiss him, deep and slow and thorough.
Ground rules can wait.
Right now, I'm too busy rewriting every assumption I've ever had about Caius O'Connor and what he means to me.
Turns out, I've been the one who wasn't paying attention.
But I'm paying attention now.