The Chemistry of Love(94)

I pushed slightly against his shoulders. “I feel bad.”

He grinned and then kissed me quickly. “That’s the opposite of how you should be feeling right now. I can fix that.”

“No, this is like . . . false pretenses.” It was very hard to gather my thoughts enough that I could explain myself. “Because I’m—”

I’m in love with you.

I couldn’t tell him. It would change everything. And fake relationship or not, I liked where we were. I was willing to accept crumbs if it meant I got to be close to him. I didn’t want to scare him off. Plus, my traitorous mouth refused to form the words because it was much more interested in being fused to his.

He reached up to gently move some hair from my face, letting his fingers brush against my skin, and I leaned against his hand, wanting more of his fiery touch. There was something there in his eyes—something pure and strong—and it sent a rush of emotion through me.

“I wish you’d forget . . .” He let his voice trail off.

“Forget what?” I prompted, desperate to know.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

I wanted to tell him that it did matter, but he was kissing my throat again, and apparently that made my voice box stop working completely. His hot mouth sent bolts of electricity shooting through me, sparkling and crackling until all I wanted to do was be lost in him.

When he returned his lips to mine, something had shifted. He turned over on the couch, pulling me so that we switched positions. Now he slowed our kiss, gentling it with a tenderness that made me ache even more. Those electrical flames he caused were still there, still making their concentric circles, just more slowly and going deeper.

I wished I could get closer to him and wiggled to make sure I was touching him everywhere. He groaned and shuddered at that, and again I was delighted that I had that effect on him.

Now it was his turn to run his fingers along the skin of my back, pressing his fingertips into me, definitely marking me. No one would be able to see it, but I was his and always would be.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured next to my ear, his words scalding me. “Are you this soft everywhere?”

“I haven’t done a thorough assessment,” I said.

“I volunteer as tribute,” he said with a grin.

I had just lowered my mouth down to his when I heard a strange noise.

“Ew. Why is everyone in this house making out?” Lindy’s voice came through the room like a shot. I quickly disentangled myself from Marco, and it was like I was ripping off my own skin, leaving pieces of it behind.

I grabbed my glasses as I stood up, feeling uneasy on my feet, and wondered whether I should apologize to his sister.

“I am so traumatized,” she announced. “This is gross. I’m supposed to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.”

“Thanks,” I said breathlessly.

She left the library, and I couldn’t help but reach up to touch my lips. They were so sensitive, and despite my considerable skills as a cosmetic chemist, I doubted that there was any lipstick left.

I didn’t know what to say to Marco, after kind of abandoning all sense as we just had. We’d also been making out a really long time, and I hadn’t realized it. That was probably because whenever he touched me, he made the rest of the world melt away.

“So, I should go and uh, get ready,” I said, hoping that my legs were strong enough to carry me out of the room.

He was the picture of ease—lying there on the couch with his hands tucked behind his head—and the only thing I wanted to do in the whole world was go over and climb back on top of him. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Right. We were sharing a room. A room where we could possibly be alone and lock a door so that no teenage girls would interrupt us.

Although, that would be bad. Not until I told him the truth. I’d tell him tonight. After dinner.

“Okay.” I walked over to the doorway, feeling his eyes on me. “By the way, you lied.”

He sat up slightly at my words. Was it my imagination or did he actually look a little worried? “About what?”

“About your heart being made out of gallium. I just did a pretty thorough analysis, and you seemed to be in an entirely solid state.”

He grinned at me and then said, “You lied, too.”

My heart seized in my chest. He knew. “What did I lie about?”

“You said you weren’t seductive.”

His words made my limbs feel heavy and thick with desire, and if I didn’t leave the room right now, I was going to make a big mistake. “And I didn’t even have to take my shirt off,” I said primly and then left the room to the sound of his laughter.

I practically sprinted upstairs into our bathroom. My lips definitely looked swollen, the skin along my jaw reddened from his stubble. My hair was a total mess. I brushed through it quickly and realized I didn’t have a good strategy on how to tell Marco. Talking it out always helped me process my thoughts.

I grabbed my phone and went into his old bedroom. Somehow, it was comforting to be surrounded by his favorite childhood things. I sat on his bed and called Catalina and told her almost everything—just not about my feelings. Because I knew what her reply would be.

When I said we’d made out a little, she gasped. “Where?”