Faked (Ward Family #2)(42)

"Truth, I guess," she sighed.

Like she was trying not to be seen, I watched as Agnes wound her way around the edge of the kitchen and found a dark corner to sit in to watch us. I decided to go easy.

"Why is there a stuffed cat on your couch?"

She blushed. "I told Lia I wanted a cat once, and since we were still in the dorms at the time, she got me that instead."

"I bet Agnes would go home with you," I mumbled.

Claire laughed. "I would never do that to Scotty. But if I did get a cat," she sighed, "I'd want her to look just like this little angel."

I rolled my eyes, much to Claire's delight. When she didn't immediately ask me a question, I decided to press my luck.

"Why did you go to that dinner as your sister?" I asked her quietly.

After only the briefest pause, Claire stood and grabbed her plate. "I told you, I was doing Lia a favor."

I took another bite of the spaghetti and watched her jerky movements as she washed off her plate and set it on a towel to dry. "I don't believe that's it."

She whirled. "Well, tough shit, you don't have to believe me."

My eyebrows popped up.

Her face immediately smoothed out, and she rubbed at her forehead. "That wasn't ... I'm sorry. Maybe I should've done a dare instead."

Why would pretty Claire Ward not want to answer that question? Whatever seed planted behind my ribs started unfurling, spreading wider, spreading further, as though she was imprinting something of herself inside me, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

If this had something to do with Finn ...

I brushed the thought aside instantly, an absolute refusal to entertain the idea. Finn, the Golden Boy who everyone loved. He'd known Claire as long as he'd known Lia, and there was nothing between them.

I smiled slightly. "I don't think you want me to give you a dare," I told her.

We both damn well knew what I'd dare her to do.

She rolled her lips between her teeth and tried to stem her growing smile. Pushing back from the table, I ignored her when she tried to take my dish. Instead, I nudged her aside with a bump of my hip, and she slid down the counter but didn't leave.

As I rinsed and washed my dish, the fact that we still had an entire night laid out in front of us, and probably at least a good chunk of the next day, stretched ahead of me like one painful exercise in frustration. Like sitting at the bottom of a mountain of fresh white powder but not having a board to ride down it.

"Maybe I do."

My hands froze in the soapy water at her quiet words. It felt very much like the thing I wanted most was being dangled just out of reach. I could see it and smell it, maybe even brush it with my fingers if I tried hard enough.

I finished rinsing the dish carefully and nudged into her again so that I could set it down by hers. Claire didn't move this time, her head angled in my direction. My hands were gripping the edge of the counter tightly, and I looked at her in the same way.

"Why can't you just ask?" I stared at her lips, open and inviting and incredible. "Because you can't lie to me anymore and pretend this isn't something you want just as badly as I do."

Claire exhaled shakily. "You're right, I can't."

I dropped my chin to my chest and swore. "What are you so afraid of?"

Her inhale was large, not shaky, but the kind of big, deep breath you took when you were trying to fortify yourself before a giant leap off the edge of a mountain. It's what I did every single time I strapped on a board before I started moving.

"Will you look at me, Bauer?"

Pinching my eyes shut for a moment before I did, I desperately searched for every shred of self-control that I had, if this turned out to be another night where I laid by myself on a stupid couch. When I felt steadier, I turned away from the counter and faced her, eyes zeroed in on hers.

"I'm not afraid of you," she insisted. Her hands carefully, slowly, softly slid around my hips, up my waist and onto my back, where she curled her fingers into my shirt.

I blew out a slow breath and allowed my hands to coast up her arms until my palms cupped the sides of her neck, my thumbs brushing the edge of her jaw. Inside me, something snarled dangerously, and I barely kept it at bay. But I was able to because of the way she was looking up at me.

"But this," she continued, her fingers increasing the hold she had on me, like she was afraid I would be going fucking anywhere right now, "this is the most terrifyingly unexpected thing I've ever wanted."

My smile came easily. "Princess, you have no idea," I murmured, lowering my head over hers.

Just before our lips touched, I paused, and she let out the most insanely erotic whimper, something hoarse with longing.

"You still haven't asked me," I told her, lifting my chin just enough my bottom lip brushed against her mouth.

Now I felt the edges of her fingernails in my back. I grinned.

"Bauer, you stubborn pain in my ass," she whispered. "Pretty, pretty please with sugar on top, will you kiss—"

My mouth took hers before she could finish her sentence, and I knew, unequivocally, how wrecked I was.





Chapter Sixteen





Claire





Bauer kissed like he was put on this earth for that one singular purpose alone.