Page 192 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“Because I’m vulnerable to competence, and you’re standing there looking like a man who might fund snacks and kiss me senseless. It’s a very leathal combination.”

I lift a hand to her jaw.

Slow.

Giving her time.

She leans into it before she can stop herself.

That is the end of whatever restraint I had left.

I kiss her.

I angle her closer.

She rises onto her toes, and the notebook slips from her fingers to the table with a soft slap.

Neither of us reaches for it.

For once, Daisy lets the plan wait.

The kiss deepens by degrees. Her fingers curl into my sweater. Mine slides to the back of her neck. I can feel the pulse at her throat, fast and alive and too honest for a room full of tables and donor cards.

She pulls back first.

Barely.

Her forehead rests against mine.

“You realize,” she whispers, “this is a terrible time to make me like you more.”

My thumb moves once along her jaw.

“Yeah.”

“And I was already having a very difficult time being emotionally moderate.”

“I noticed.”

“Of course you did.” Her eyes open. “You notice everything. It’s one of your most irritating qualities.”

“One of?”

“I have a list.”

“I’d like to see it.”

“You are not emotionally prepared for my notes.”

“Probably not.”

Puck huffs from beneath the registration table, and Daisy laughs under her breath.

“We have to finish setting up,” she says.

“I know.”

“And after that, we may have to figure out what exactly we’re doing.”