Betting on You(65)
Holy shit. I couldn’t believe he said that.
“Any eggs left?” I asked as I walked into the room. “I’m starving.”
My mom looked incredibly happy to see me, Charlie gave me an amused grin, and Scott looked ready to fight.
“I’m on it,” Charlie said, taking a gulp of his coffee and standing. “They’ve eaten already, but I was waiting for you.”
We went into the kitchen, and the minute we crossed through the doorway, I heard Scott loud-whisper to my mom, “I do not like that kid.”
“Oh, he wasn’t talking about you,” my mom defended, her voice in that motherly singsong tone that was good at soothing tempers. “I asked him about his mom, and he was answering. That’s it.”
I glanced at Charlie, who winked at me. Then his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit before he quietly said, “Wait. C’mere.”
“What?” I asked, stepping closer to him even though I wasn’t sure why. I lowered my voice and said, “What are you doing?”
He gave me a look, his head motioning with a tiny nod toward the dining room table, and I realized what he was doing the minute he put his hands on my waist. We were technically in the kitchen, but the open floor plan had a wide entryway that left the majority of the area visible.
We were totally in their line of sight but conceivably unaware that we were being seen, so if they stopped arguing and glanced toward the kitchen, they would see our fake datery.
Of course, all I could focus on was the heat of Charlie’s fingers as he lightly squeezed my waist. My breath felt trapped in my throat as I looked at his mouth and he whispered, “We should kiss.”
“What?” I hissed in a whisper, my cheeks growing hot. “Are you serious?”
“I mean, if you’re scared you’ll fall for me, I get it,” he whispered back, his mouth curling into a cocky grin. “But he’s gonna lose his shit and it will be puh-fucking-erfect.”
He was right about Scott, given what’d just happened in the dining room. The timing was perfect. I knew that, but every single nerve ending inside me was shorting out at the thought of kissing Charlie, of Charlie Sampson kissing me.
I raised my arms to his shoulders, wanting to be brave enough to go big even as a thousand butterflies went wild in my stomach. Nervousness shot through me, but I calmly said, “Let’s do it, Sampson.”
His mouth came down on mine, and my brain did a quick inventory of the sensory details; the faint pressure of his fingertips as they slid to my lower back, the sound of a fork scraping over a plate at the table, and the smell of bacon on the stove. I sucked in a breath, ready for a big, huge, real-life-looking kiss.
But first Charlie fed me an appetizer.
His eyes stayed open, crinkled at the corners as we shared laughing eye contact over this secret, and his teeth clamped onto my bottom lip. I swear I felt the reverberation of that nibble in every nerve ending of my body before he opened my mouth with his, angled his head, and gave me a full-scale kiss; closed eyes, shared breath, warm lips.
I forgot everything—breathing, pretending, thinking—as he kissed me like it was the break of dawn and he’d dreamed about me all night long. This is Charlie was the only conscious thought that crossed my mind, but the words failed to remind me we were only fake kissing when I could hear the unsteady rhythm of his breathing.
It sounded just like my unsteady breathing, and something about that similarity curled my toes and made me clutch at his shoulders.
When he pulled back and looked down at my face, I blinked fast, trying to catch up. Where am I again? Everything swirled around me, nerves and pleasure and What the fuck and doubt, until his mouth slid into a naughty grin.
Such a naughty grin.
“Holy shit, Glasses,” he said, his hands squeezing my waist as his dark eyes were wholly squinting with his smile. “I am an incredibly good kisser—not to be cocky but it’s just a fact—and take it from me, you are very talented.”
My knees felt weak, and I wasn’t sure I could keep my eyes open as I looked up at his flirty gaze. Finally finding my voice, I managed, “I’m not sure if I should thank you or slug you for that glowing critique.”
“I thought you were getting eggs,” Scott barked from the other room, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Charlie.
“We are,” Charlie said to Scott while still giving me that impressed grin.
I glanced over at the table and—holy shit—my mom and Scott were both staring at us in shock. My mom’s mouth was literally hanging open, and Scott looked like he’d just figured out that the butler did it.
I grabbed a clean plate from the drying rack with unsteady hands and said quickly, “I just need to warm them up in the microwave.”
Charlie ignored them and said to me, “Holy shit, Mitchell—do you realize what this means?”
I gave him a They’re looking at us face and moved away from him, needing distance as I walked over to the skillet, which was out of their line of sight. “I’m afraid you’re going to tell me.”
He came over, leaned against the refrigerator with that long, tall body of his, crossed his arms, and said, “We can totally use this weekend to hone our craft because we’re emotionally unaffected by each other.”
I felt my eyebrows go down but quickly erased that tell, not wanting him to know what I was thinking. But… emotionally unaffected by each other? Had he been in the same kiss as me? Because I was a lot of things at that moment, but unaffected was not one of them.