“Severin’s eyes hold me mesmerized as he leans close.
Is he actually going to kiss me? Oh, no, no, no. I’m not ready. We haven’t practiced. Wait, what am I even thinking? Practice? I hiccup a flustered laugh. Practicing kissing Severin would mean a whole lot of actually kissing Severin. I already feel like I’m going to explode out of my skin—how would I ever survive that?
As he gets closer, my heart leaps, my body locked rigid as flames heat my cheeks. I want to moan in mortification. Ugh. I bet everyone can see I’m not used to his touch.
His lips brush the corner of my mouth. It’s the tiniest caress, but it sends a jolt of electricity shooting through me. The butterflies escape my stomach to fill my whole chest with fluttering as my heart races.
Fake, fake, fake, I chant to myself. This is all totally fake. You can’t forget and catch feelings for him. He’s simply a good actor.
As I meet Severin’s intense green eyes, the butterflies completely ignore me, doing loop-de-loops of joy.
Sh!t. I’m so totally screwed.”
―
Krista Luna,
Faking with the Fae King
