by Sosie Frost
He took offense when I pointed at his mesh shorts. “Hey. Don’t call him little!”
“You could have gotten me fired today!”
I held his stare. His blue eyes practically crackled, bright and full of energy. It might as well have been plutonium. He was too dangerous to let near.
“You told a lie that might have cost me my job,” I said.
“Did Jolene fire you?”
“No.”
Jack groaned and headed to the locker room. “Then what’s the problem? Just relax, Kiss.”
I was not letting him get away. The last time I challenged him at the practice facility, I’d chased him through the halls and into the steam room. He’d dropped his towel and exposed not only himself, but the entirety of his offensive line. I still couldn’t look those men in the eye.
I grabbed his arm and forced him to pay attention to me. “The problem is you lied to the league president. He wants you out of the game, and he’ll do anything to get his way.”
Jack’s glance cut through my indignation. Hell, his stare penetrated me completely, like he tore through my clothes and surveyed everything mouth-watering beneath. But his appraisal wasn’t another way to flirt.
He looked at me like he planned to strip me down.
Like he wanted me.
A couple more seconds under his dominating stare, and I might’ve let him.
Why the hell did I face him instead of yelling at him over the phone? I wasn’t prepared to confront a man as handsome or frustrating as this trouble-maker with his wandering, mischievous eyes.
“So…you came here…” His voice lazily murmured, as though he knew the shivers it’d cause. “Because you’re concerned? You think I’m going to get tossed out of the league?”
“Yes.”
“And here I thought you were paid to worry about me.”
Bastard. “My career depends on your career, Jack. On your behavior.”
“Why?”
“Because if you get thrown out of the league, I’ll lose my chance to be fast-tracked to a partner in Jolene’s firm.”
“Well, sorry I nearly killed myself in a car accident last night, Kiss.”
He made me sound heartless. I took a breath. “Look, Jack. I know you like to play these games, but that’s over now. You told the president you were a changed man because of me. If you get expelled from the league for doing something stupid or immoral now, I’ll lose more than my job. You’ll ruin my reputation too.”
Jack didn’t understand, didn’t even try. “Why do you care what people think of you?”
“It’s my job?”
“No. You’re supposed to care what people think of me. So what if people call me a jerk? So what if I go out to a party?”
“It matters because it’s going to reflect on me as a person. I’m supposed to be your long-term, committed girlfriend.”
“Then break it off.”
He tried to leave again. I followed, taking two steps to his every stride.
“Then Frank Bennett has every reason to force the Rivets to cut you. This relationship is the only way you stay in the league.”
“That so?”
“Yes. And that means you have to calm down and lie low for the duration of…whatever this is. Do you understand? This is your last chance.”
He stopped, deep in the tunnel separating us from the action of the field. His arms crossed. Every tattoo practically pulsed with the heat coursing under his skin. It radiated from him, pressing into me, stealing my breath. I looked up to meet his gaze as he stepped closer.
His voice lowered, a deep, grumbling promise of suppressed wildness. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not. I’m protecting myself.”
“This is a dangerous game, Kiss.”
“But it can work.” Was I really trying to convince him of his own stupid idea? “People will believe we’re a couple if you behave yourself. I mean…we have a close, professional relationship already.”
Jack laughed. “This isn’t my definition of close.”
“Because we work together while fully clothed?”
“Takes the fun out of the meetings.”
“Well, there’s our story. It’ll make sense that, over time, our relationship developed into something…more.”
“Like booty calls?”
“Like love, you freak.”
He grinned. “Right. Love. I can buy it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Have you ever even told a girl I love you before?”
“Have you ever fucked a stranger without exchanging names?”
“No!”
He shrugged. “Guess opposites attract.”
I’d grind my teeth into dust before the day was out. “I’m setting ground rules.”
“Kiss—”
“First, you don’t call me Kiss.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Pet name. I like it better than Darling.”
I was losing the big picture. I exhaled. “Fine. Call me whatever you want. But you will follow these rules.” I pointed at him. “You are going to behave at all times. You will not embarrass me. No acting out, no late night parties, no womanizing, no doing anything that would constitute cheating.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “So I can’t go out with my friends. I can’t meet women. I can’t have sex with anyone…” A sly smile encouraged every thought I didn’t want him to have. “Unless you plan on fulfilling those needs?”
I ignored the implication. “That was my next rule. No screwing with me—literally or figuratively.”
“Why the hell would I agree to this?”
Did he have any blood left in his head? “Because you want to keep your job. You want to win a championship and make that hundred million dollar contract. This is the only way. Get through this season without incident, and we’ll see what happens.”
He set his jaw, the hard angles clenching as tightly as the muscles in his chest. “Fine.”
“It’s for your own good. I’m keeping you on a leash.”
“Only if you promise to toss a collar on me too.”
I didn’t trust Jack’s tone, as if the arrogant trouble-maker already lured me to his bed and had his way with me.
Wasn’t going to happen. No way, no how.
And I hated myself for even imagining the briefest of fantasies.
“Will you promise to behave?” I asked.
He stepped closer, his voice low, tightening everything deep inside me. “You promise to punish me if I don’t?”
“Be serious…” This was never going to work if he got me so flustered.
Jack edged me close to the wall, his gaze hot and entirely too familiar. “I’ll agree…with one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want to see if we have chemistry together.”
“I…” My hands pressed against the cool cement, the only relief I had from the heat suffocating me in Jack’s oppressive shadow. “We can pretend.”
“You can’t pretend a connection. It’s gotta be real. We gotta feel it.”
His body moved close. Too close. I might have reached out, touched the sweat-dazzled muscles that he’d worked and pumped and strained in practice to build a body of utter perfection. I wished he had a shirt on. It was too difficult to focus on him while his feral form raged inches from my own.
I took a harsh breath, sinking deeper against the wall. It didn’t protect me from him. It didn’t stop the twisting heat in my belly. Low. Raw.
God, why did he have to be an attractive jerk?
Jack’s voice heated like caramel and burned just as hot. “If my job rides on this, and your reputation is at stake…we gotta make sure it’ll work, right?”
I accidentally licked my lips. “How do we do that?”
“Kiss me.”
Panic.
I couldn’t kiss this man. I couldn’t even breathe. He was an arrogant, cocky bastard with the most beautiful body I ever saw and eyes that seared through my common
sense.
I parted my lips.
Made a joke instead.
“I…I can’t bill you for that time.”
“I’ll consider it a signing bonus.” Both of his arms straddled the wall to my sides. He had me pinned without a touch, and I wasn’t going anywhere. “One kiss. And we gotta make it realistic. People have to believe I’m wild about you, that I’d do anything for you…” The act seemed to drop. His voice turned solemn. “They have to believe that I’d give up everything to spend one night with you.”
My stomach flipped. He didn’t mean the words, but I hadn’t heard anyone promise something so lovely since before my heart was crushed and broken by Wyatt.
“Let me kiss you,” he whispered. “Earn that nickname so it doesn’t just mean how dark and tasty your skin is.”
This was out of control.
Way beyond where anything was meant to go.
I intended to storm the field. Yell. Berate. Punish.
Not part my lips and tilt my head.
“One kiss,” I said. “And then you do as I say.”
“You hold the leash, just tug on it a little and I’ll come…”
This man was absolute trouble.
And I knew it.
So why did I nod?
Jack gripped me close, pushing his body into mine and pinning me against the cool concrete. The wall became the only thing grounding me to the world besides his strength and the fierce grip of his hands.
His rippling muscle pressed against me, and I felt petite and fragile within the shadow of his bulk. I gasped, but that gave him the opportunity to capture my kiss and take it for his own.
My mind paralyzed. My heart would crack my ribcage.
And my body?
My body exploded into shivers. Every tremble, every stolen shudder raked over my form and twisted within my core. Within seconds I panted, feasting against the dragging nibble of his lips. Heat and sin and every naughty and terribly dangerous feeling I ever hid from Jack Carson flooded through me.
Kissing him wasn’t just a mistake…it was a complete surrender to a man who pocketed panties and broke hearts. He treated passion like it was another game to play and girls were a literal score.
And I wanted more than a kiss.
His tongue swirled over mine.
His hands grasped my hips.
And a hardness pressed into my leg—raging, fierce, and demanding.
He didn’t get to take those girls home last night, and every ounce of his sexual frustration pent up inside him. It turned him into a wicked beast. I was glad he didn’t have his fun with them.
Not because I worried about his reputation.
Not because of the impending disaster from his accident and the league.
Because that meant he kissed me instead.
This was bad. I meant to pull away, but my fingers only grasped his tighter.
I was good at my job, but I didn’t have the talent to lie and pretend like I hadn’t felt that chemistry he demanded.
Our kiss broke as my breath escaped in a timid gasp. Jack teased with a knowing, terrible glance.
Jack pulled away, trading a kiss for his smile. “Go out with me tomorrow night.”
“Out?”
“Easiest way to prove we’re a couple is if we are seen together.” He retreated, tensed and loaded, as though he faced an entire charging defensive line instead of wild-eyed me. “You and me. Out on the town. I’ll take you to a club.”
“I—” I didn’t dance. I couldn’t talk now either, which meant I couldn’t call him back as he returned to the field. “We can’t just do your normal hangout. You have to prove you’ve changed.”
He hesitated, thinking it over, his eyes brightening as he accepted the challenge.
“Okay. Then tomorrow, you’re gonna have the night of your life. Fancy food. Music. Fun.” He met my gaze, and I wished I had the ability to catch my breath after his kiss. “Be ready. You’ll love the Jack Carson experience.”
Yeah. I probably would.
And that was exactly what I feared.
4
Jack
I didn’t think a fake relationship would be hard. Pick Leah up at seven. Let the media see me playing the gentleman. Make sure she didn’t storm out on me during dinner.
Except I forgot the most important thing.
Jesus fuck, this woman was absolutely gorgeous.
Leah had hips that shimmied, curves that bumped, tits that plumped, and eyes that would scold a man for ogling the most beautiful creature in the world.
She gave me the address to her apartment, and I offered to pick her up. Originally, I meant to take her out and let the public know I was spoken for. After I took her home, I’d planned to meet up with Bryon and the guys. They had a bead on a new bar stocked with craft beers and co-eds.
Not anymore. Bryon and his sluts be damned. One look at Leah and the only thing I wanted was her.
With me at dinner.
Coming home with me.
Sleeping in my bed.
Waking inside of her.
Worst part was, I knew it’d never fucking happen.
I thought I’d be cute and buy her a single red rose. The flower crushed in my fist when she opened the door, and I was just lucky my jaw hadn’t unhinged like some teenage idiot.
“Jack.” She clutched a little purse, matching the black dress clinging to her perfectly mocha skin. A crimson sash draped over her arms, a shimmering silk that hugged where I longed to touch. “You’re late.”
And we’d be late for dinner too if my cock didn’t settle the fuck down. I hardened immediately, studying her curves. Everything—her exotic complexion, her delicate ebony curls, the tips of her French tipped toenails—was meant to turn my cock into cement. Great. Even my most faithful partner-in-crime was punishing me for agreeing to this fake relationship.
I just wanted to use her as a momentary distraction to the league. Leah thought otherwise. I had nearly split when she dropped the ground rules. No partying. No girls. Nothing fun. I would have taken my chances with the league had it not been for her kiss.
A kiss that nearly had me come right there in the tunnel.
Hell if I could focus on the rest of practice. And I was pretty sure I’d fucked up the speech Leah forwarded to me, some sort of remark on how sorry I was for my behavior and the car crash or something. It was all bullshit anyway. What happened off the field should have been my business. And yet, here I was. Spending thousands of dollars on a publicist to make me appear like a man who wouldn’t rip off her crimson sash, lift that little black dress, and plow my way to a better reputation.
“Ready to go?” I found my tongue somewhere in my dried mouth. Apparently Leah found my head somewhere up my own ass.
“If you aren’t going to take this seriously, I won’t help you.”
She didn’t invite me in. The door slammed behind her and she walked to the elevator without me.
How did I piss her off? I just got to her apartment.
“What the hell did I do now?” I asked.
Leah shook her head. The dress was low cut and everything else good and holy in this world shimmied too. “You didn’t even try.”
“Try what?”
“The apology?” She whipped around, and her hair caressed her cheek. I tried to focus on her scowl, but, God…even mad she was beautiful. “I spent an hour crafting you five sentences to express your remorse for what happened, and you couldn’t even make it sound genuine?”
What did I do wrong? “I read what you gave me.”
“Exactly. You read it like a PR person gave you a statement.”
“Do you want me to take acting classes now? I’m a football player, not Chris Pratt.”
“Yeah, as if I could get that lucky.”
“Fine…” I shrugged. “I’ll do better next time.”
That pissed her off more. “Jack, there better not be a next time. That was your last public apology. No one will listen to you next time.
”
Touché.
The elevator delivered us to the lobby. She brushed a cautious hand over her dress, like she didn’t trust that the skirt wouldn’t ride up and show a scandalous amount of leg. I was praying it would.
“Why are we so formal?” she asked.
I was a jock, but even I appreciated a good meal. “I’m taking you to Le Meilleur.”
She stiffened, staring at me with widening eyes. “That’s the best restaurant in the city.”
I smirked, offering her my elbow as we walked to my car. “Now that sounded genuine.”
I helped her into the Porsche, hating the brand new car because it wasn’t my classic Camaro. Leah liked it. She stared at the interior, the navigation system, the luxury. She was probably a girl who didn’t mind a little class.
Well, there was nothing classier than getting fucked in the back seat of a sports car that cost more than her yearly salary, but Leah didn’t seem the type. That didn’t stop me from imagining it. Wanting it. I adjusted my trousers as my dick swelled thinking about her skirt riding up and my cock sliding in.
Let’s see her write a spin piece on the best sex of her goddamned life.
The restaurant needed reservations a month ahead of time. I called two hours before we arrived, and a private table waited for the Rivets’ star near the dance floor. It was a perfectly romantic location for a man taking his longterm girlfriend on a date. Low lights, expensive food, and insufferable waiters. Every girl’s dream before slipping into bed with me.
But Leah didn’t seem the bed slipping type.
She folded her napkin neatly in her lap, sipped her wine, and looked positively humbled that I would bring her somewhere nice.
“Thinking you were getting a strip club breakfast buffet?” I asked.
She took a deep breath, meeting my gaze with those big, mocha eyes, as rich as the chocolate complexion of her skin. She turned my cock to stone, and she didn’t have a fucking clue.
“I didn’t know what to expect.” At least she was honest. Her voice shifted, taking on that professional, impersonal tone. “I’ve posted on social media about tonight. I have boxed seats for a baseball game and an event with one of the Rivets’ charities we can attend. But, for now? We should probably take a selfie together a little later, to pass around a picture of you that doesn’t include three drunken women and a totaled car.”
