Chapter 13

Lilith slipped her hand into Dane’s as they strolled back toward the elevator to their condo. There were still plenty of people milling around the firepit, so the party was far from over, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to curl up next to her husband on the couch and watch a movie together or something. Alone.

Normally she was the last to leave a gathering, often prolonging conversation with the last stragglers while standing half out of the elevator to keep the doors from closing, loathe to give up even a few moments of precious connection.

This was the first time in memory she craved a different type of connection. She’d been fighting it all night and stayed at the party far longer than she’d actually wanted to. The whole concept scared her.

But then she’d remembered the look on Dane’s face when he’d confessed how draining it was to be around people. He’d put on a brave front and plunked himself down in the middle of an uncomfortable situation because she’d asked him to. It kept doing fluttery things to her insides the longer she thought about it.

At some point, the way he made her feel outweighed the scary parts. And she began to find ways to rationalize it.

What was the harm in cutting out early to spend time alone with her fake husband? Better question, why had she panicked earlier when contemplating not going at all? There was a lot of safety in this fake relationship, and a lot of room to take risks because none of it counted.

When they got back to the condo they shared, she pulled on his hand, walking backward and tugging him toward the long white sofa in the living area that the studio had picked out. “Sit with me for a few minutes.”

Dane’s expression grew a little wary as he followed her across the expanse of tile in the foyer. “You’re not tired? I thought that’s why we left.”

“Surprise. I’m not done with you yet this evening,” she told him with a laugh and slid between the coffee table and the couch cushions to take a seat.

She pulled him down next to her, assuming that if he’d had a problem with the invitation, he would have released her hand a long time ago. But he hadn’t.

“Were you not having a good time at the party?” he asked her, his expression still slightly perplexed.

She couldn’t blame him for being confused. “Sure, it was fun. But I wanted to leave, so we could be alone.”

“Because you’re ready to have that fight about our couple activities?” he asked with a wry twist of his lips that told her he was only kidding. “The party wasn’t so bad. I like your friends. Doesn’t mean I want to do that every night, but I would go to another one with you sometime.”

That settled into her heart beautifully. Dane was the kind of guy who made sacrifices for someone he was dating. That said a lot about his character and meant more to her then he could possibly understand. “I like the sound of that. But I also like the idea of spending a night holed up in our condo, just the two of us. No crowd need apply.”

“Is that what we’re doing here?” he rumbled in his low voice that spread through her like thick honey, warm and dense. “Second half of the date?”

“Yeah. Makes it easier to do exactly as I please now that I’ve got you in my clutches.”

When he raised his brows in question, she didn’t hesitate. Lilith feathered her fingers through his hair, clutched the back of his neck, and brought his mouth down to meet hers.

The kiss unfolded slowly. Deliciously. As if they both had arrived at the same conclusion at the same moment—this was too good to rush.

Lilith wasn’t ashamed to admit she inhaled him. Just couldn’t get enough. Greedily, she gulped more, letting his essence climb through her until there was so much of him inside her she had no idea where he began and she ended. Neither did she care to figure it out.

It was enough to grab on and enjoy the rush of pure adrenaline mixed with sweet and light and music. Things she’d never felt before. Never knew could be experienced via the simple act of touching lips with another person.

Maybe because she’d never kissed Dane McClarren before. Not like this. Those other times? Nothing close. This kiss compared to the last one the same way a guy with a banjo compared to a full orchestra playing a symphony in the most celebrated performance hall.

He cupped her jaw with one strong hand, trailing his fingertips along her throat as he lifted her chin a notch, taking the kiss to a whole other level. She would have floated away on a sea of bliss if his touch hadn’t transformed into the solidest anchor.

It was a paradox, just like the man.

That was part of Dane’s full package—he’d introduced her to a world she’d never known existed, a world of firefly fairies and the magic of two people who complemented each other so well that they didn’t need anyone else. She’d never had that before, never believed it was really possible, not for her. And she let herself be sucked in by it, let herself float, fly, fall apart and be knit back together with nothing more than the presence of another human soul.

Gradually, his lips began a languid, delightful exploration of her neck as he moved toward her ear, nuzzling it gently as he rumbled her name. Her skin reacted, goose pimples erupting instantly in what was by far the strongest response she’d had yet to his voice.

“You can say that as many times as you want,” she murmured as her eyes drifted closed in sheer pleasure at the things this beautiful man made her feel. “I love your voice. It’s like the richest coffee, black with no cream and plenty of sugar.”

His lips turned up against her throat, brushing across her sensitized skin as he smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, especially given the effort that’s gone into perfecting it. I had a coach.”

If he was trying to push her away with more talk about how he’d upgraded himself, it wasn’t going to work. “You say that like it’s a dirty word. I think it’s amazing that you went to so much trouble to be your best version. Not many people do. They’d rather complain about the stuff they hate about themselves. You buckled down and did a lot of hard work to fix what you didn’t like.”

That was yet another thing about him that she wouldn’t have put on a list of must-have attributes in a man—generally her lists trended toward the things she absolutely would not tolerate in one—but she couldn’t get over what it said about his character. He’d fallen all over himself to be honest about the work he’d done, admitting his improvements readily, as if it would be a detriment.

The final product had been worth the effort, no doubt. And the fact that he didn’t shy away from hard work spoke to her too. Dane would never be one of those men who let his health and body go as he aged. Since she strived to keep herself fit and attractive, that meant they might fight about whether to go to parties but not about whether it was okay to eat cheeseburgers every day for a month.

“You can stop admiring me now,” he said good-naturedly. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

“Good. You should be proud of yourself.” The long look he gave her was laden with things she wasn’t sure how to interpret, but his sharp attention made her shivery in all the best ways. Did she have the same effect on him? She hoped so. “I’m not suffering from the same fear. You can admire me all you want.”

“That’s hardly in question,” he said with a derisive hmmph. “Or it shouldn’t be, anyway. Have I not told you enough how great I think you are? Bad me. Let’s just say that tonight marks the one and only time I have ever gone to a party on purpose.”

“Really?”

In response, he gathered up one of her hands in both of his, holding it as if he’d found gold at the end of the rainbow. “And instead of retreating to my room after hanging out with a bunch of people, I’m still sitting here. With you. There isn’t another woman on the planet I’d do that for.”

Oh, my. Her heart squeezed even as her conscience prickled. There was that paradox again. Well, of course she’d already realized he’d gotten out of his comfort zone at the party because she’d asked him to, but she’d failed to consider that he might need his downtime more than she needed him to hang out with her. The fact that he’d jumped at the chance to be the unselfish one without even hesitating…what was she supposed to do with that?

“I’m sorry. I should have realized you’d need to decompress. You don’t have to stick around.”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all.” He screwed his eyes shut for a second as if gathering up fortification. “This is why I went to a vocal coach. I have a long history of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, and clearly I need a refresher course. What I mean is that I want to be here with you. Not that I feel like I have to. Usually my default is to get to the place where I can be by myself, and for the first time in memory, I have no interest in being alone. Instead of draining me, you make me feel alive. Energized. As if I’ve been missing a piece inside that would allow me to function at a higher level. Now that I’ve found it, I can’t imagine letting it go.”

Blinking, she stared at him as all those lovely words filtered down into her soul. “It doesn’t sound like you need any additional classes on what to say after all.”

He shrugged with one of his self-effacing grins. “Sometimes I get it right. Don’t get used to it.”

Probably he meant that as a joke. But it begged the million-dollar question. “Why, because this thing between us has an expiration date? Once the show is over, so are we?”

She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. But then again…maybe she had. After all, she’d been the one to lay down the law about how none of this was real. Somewhere along the way, that had stopped being so true. She’d stopped trying so hard to pretend she wasn’t falling for him. And she had an insane need to find out if it was all one sided.

“Isn’t that what we talked about?” he said cautiously, quite clearly picking his words, and her heart went out to him. “No risk. No reality. Just fun.”

The lilt on the end nearly turned it into a question mark, as if he couldn’t be sure he’d understood. Or maybe he wasn’t on board with that anymore either, but he didn’t want to be the one to go against her mandate?

He’d just told her he had a hard time articulating himself and here she was forcing him to speak about matters that were difficult for most everyone. It was up to her to take the lead and be sure there was no confusion about her thoughts on the matter. “We did. But it’s okay to admit that things have changed. I think it’s critical that we do. The show is completely separate from what’s happening between us right now, and we can keep it that way.”

Dane’s expression froze as he contemplated her. “Nothing’s changed. We’re a fake couple who figured out that it’s not so bad to spend time together. That’s all.”

Sure, maybe at first. “Don’t be scared,” she murmured. “I mean, I am too, but that’s okay. We can figure this out together. The important thing is to be sure that we are indeed both feeling the same things.”

“Things?” His alarm spread across his face which did not settle her pulse any. “What things are you feeling?”

“Dane.” His panic was nearly palpable, and she couldn’t help but reach out to grasp his hand, hopefully comforting him. A boatload of compassion swelled behind her ribcage. “I know. I’m the one who said none of this counted. I’m taking it back. It turns out the show didn’t skew our relationship to the point of no return. It’s the easiest thing in the world to admit that I’m falling for you.”

“Lilith.” He hesitated. Not long. Just a beat, but it was enough. He wasn’t about to confess a bunch of unrealized feelings in return. “I have to tell you something. All the work I did on myself…I had a reason. A goal. I…wow. This is harder than I was expecting.”

He swallowed, and her heart triple timed as he refused to look at her. The last thing a woman wanted to hear after admitting she was falling for a guy was I have to tell you something. “What is it, darling? You can tell me. We’ve bared our souls a lot lately, haven’t we? I would hope that you’d trust me by now.”

With a short unamused laugh, he ran a hand through his hair. The same one that had been clutched in hers, and she wished he’d put it back. But she had a sinking feeling that he’d yanked it loose for a reason.

“It’s not a matter of trust. It’s that all the changes I made, the surgery, the haircut, the voice coach—all of that worked in my favor so I could do the show with someone specific. You.”

“Me? You mean so you could look your best for whatever fake wife they stuck you with? That’s totally understandable.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No. So you didn’t recognize me.”

“Recognize you? We’ve never met.” A little niggling sensation in her chest exploded as she stared at him, desperately trying to rearrange his features into something that would put this whole bizarre conversation into perspective. “Have we?”

“In high school, you knew me as Eugene Long,” he said flatly and closed his mouth, rightly guessing that her entire world had just tilted on its axis.

“Eugene? But I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Your name is Dane.”

Desperately, she tried to realign her brain or her eyesight or something to get his face to click into place in her memory, but he didn’t look anything like the boy who had tutored her in Algebra a million years ago.

“You don’t understand because I haven’t explained anything yet,” he said gently. “Dane is my middle name, or part of it. Eugene Danehart Long. McClarren is totally made up though.”

“Made up,” she repeated because that seemed to be the extent of what her brain could process at the moment. “But that’s what you signed on the marriage license.”

“Which is fake,” he reminded her. “Just like me. One hundred percent not real.”

He’d been lying to her this whole time. Lying. None of this made any sense. Dane was Eugene. From high school. The worst period of her life.

“So you created a new name to go along with your face.” Of course he didn’t look like Eugene. He’d had his nose and face reconstructed. She pressed on her temples where a headache was brewing, fighting back the bile that had started to rise in her throat. “So I wouldn’t recognize you. That’s the part I keep tripping over. Why would you want to disguise yourself from me?”

“Because,” he said grimly. “Otherwise you might not have done the show. It was critical to the plan that you start to care about me, so I could hurt you. Just like you hurt me.”