Free Faking It by Diane Albert Page A

now. The kiss in front of the elevator, and the one on her couch, rose up to imprint on her senses, searing her with their memory, making her burn to do it again. But Wheeler wasn’t watching anymore—and she couldn’t let herself forget that this was all fake. Derek didn’t mean a word of it, and she couldn’t let herself start to believe that one moment of it was real.
    She looked away from him with a shaky breath and took a deep drink of her wine. Wine made her less dizzy than the way he was looking at her right now. She tried to keep her voice light when she asked, “Don’t you ever do anything crazy or stupid?”
    “I’m thinking of doing something crazy right now,” he said huskily. “Something I think you’re too drunk for.”
    His head bowed. Each of his exhalations skated down her throat, and she sucked in a breath that felt like it reached all the way down inside her to stroke somewhere forbidden and dark.
    “I’m not that drunk,” she whispered. What was he doing ?
    He leaned closer. The tip of his nose grazed the soft spot just behind her ear, and she bit back a moan. Maybe she was drunk. Too drunk.
    “Derek…”
    “Mm?” Even that soft sound sent his heated breath curling over her skin, and she shivered. She fought for some kind of protest, but she couldn’t find voice to speak. She couldn’t say a word, couldn’t find the willpower to stop him when he was so warm against her, when she could feel the shape of his lips hovering so near to her throat. He was her brother’s friend. This wasn’t real. He was just…just acting. He had to be.
    And if she wanted to have any self-respect in the morning, she couldn’t fall for it.
    She pushed her chair back and stood on shaky legs. Her heels suddenly felt like stilts, but she managed to turn and stumble toward the door. She had to leave before she did something stupid. Before she made a fool of herself.
    She had to get out of here before she begged him to kiss her again, and mean it.
    She heard the scrape of his chair moments before he caught her elbow and spun her around. His eyes were dark with an emotion he couldn’t name. “Please don’t…don’t run away.”
    “I’m not running. I just…I…”
    He stepped closer, his gaze intent on her. “You what?”
    “I think I’m too drunk,” she said thickly, though she’d never felt more sober in her life. “And I don’t trust what I’m feeling right now.”
    “What are you feeling?”
    “I’m not drunk enough to tell you that.”
    “You can’t have it both ways, bella .” His palm cupped her face, rough and hot. “Are you drunk enough for this to be taking advantage?”
    She wanted to sway into him. Her breaths came slow. “For…for what?” she asked dazedly.
    “This,” he said, and claimed her lips in a luxuriant kiss.
    The entire length of his body pressed to hers. His tongue explored her mouth—possessed her, leaving his mark in every burning, teasing caress. Her stomach clenched and she clung to him. If she didn’t, she would fall.
    As if the tight grip of her fingers in his tuxedo jacket had triggered something, he kissed her with a savage intensity, drawing out every ounce of need she’d been struggling to ignore. For one glorious moment she ached to melt into his arms, to let him sweep her away into this dream. He groaned; the touch of his lips grew rougher, hungrier. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a lie. He kissed her like she was the breath he needed to live, and she craved him.
    “Excuse me,” a stiff voice said. “Could you please take this outside?”
    Derek stiffened and pulled back. For just a moment his gaze burned her—and then his eyes shuttered, slamming closed like steel doors. Without a word, he took her hand and led her through the crowd to the door. She nearly tripped on her heels, but his grip held her upright.
    She felt like everyone in the restaurant was staring at them, and her face heated under their knowing looks. By the time they