But this is pretend. This is a secret for the souls. And that’s what I tell myself as I wrap my other leg around his hip, his hands tightening across my back. Holding me against him, he takes a few slow steps back until the water laps around our collarbones. And I let him. Because I trust him more than I care to admit. Rain begins sprinkling from the sky, creating a pattern of ripples around us. “This is just pretend?” I whisper, melting into his hold. “This is just us.” A hand slides up my back and over my hair. “No titles. No obligations. No history.”
