by Shea, Kacey
One Hot Night
A Caught in the Lies Prequel
Kacey Shea
One Hot Night
Kacey Shea
Copyright © 2019 by Kacey Shea Books LLC
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Recognition
Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Editing: Brenda Letendre, Write Girl Editing Services
Proofreading: Christina Weston, Erin Toland, & Melissa Hake
Created with Vellum
Dedication
To quickies and dick jokes.
Because not all satisfaction needs to come from long, hard things.
Foreword
I hope you enjoy this short and steamy prequel. Cam and Jill’s full story continues in Caught in the Lies, releasing October 3 and available for pre-order now!
Or begin with Callie’s story in Caught in the Flames, a complete standalone available now in ebook, audio, and print.
Also by Kacey Shea
Sports Romance
The Perfect Comeback
Firefighters
Caught in the Flames
One Hot Night
Caught in the Lies
Caught in the Chase
Rock Stars
Detour
Derail
Hinder
Replay
Uncovering Love Series
Uncovering Love
Uncovering Desire
Uncovering Hope
Uncovering Love: The Wedding
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Also by Kacey Shea
About the Author
Chapter One
My heart races and beads of sweat gather at my brow. “No. No fucking way!” I shake my head vehemently, sending my locks swishing over each shoulder from where they’re held back in a high ponytail. I don’t care that my shouts draw the attention of almost everyone at this party, I’m fucking riled up, a little drunk, and I won’t let this idiot spew more propaganda. “Rice would beat Edelman in any match-up. Hands. Fucking. Down.”
“How can you even say that?” Cam sputters, holding up his hands as his eyes bug. He’s careful to balance his red Solo so his beer doesn’t slosh over the edge. “The game was slower thirty years ago! It’s not even a fair comparison. Rice would get his ass handed to him. Edelman is a god.”
“Fucking Patriots fans,” I grumble, then have to restrain myself from the urge to spit. It happens whenever I’m talking to a Boston diehard. I don’t even think Cam is from there, which only makes it worse. I don’t get how someone can call Richmond home and cheer for the Pats. “How can you do Jerry so wrong? You should be ashamed. Some football fan you are.”
A chorus of ‘ohhhs’ sounds off around us, bringing a smile to my lips. We’ve gathered quite a crowd to our heated debate. I take extreme satisfaction in knowing his own friends are on my side.
“Say that again. To my face.” He tips his chin in challenge, but there’s a twinkle to his gaze, as though he finds my accusation amusing. Or maybe it’s my unwillingness to back down. We’re almost flirting. Okay, we totally are. Most guys find it entertaining I’m into sports—you know, since I come with a vagina. Sexist motherfuckers. That is, until I show them up with my vast knowledge and prove them wrong. Then my little brain isn’t so cute. But my memory and affinity for sports trivia comes in handy sometimes, especially in a situation like this. It’s my cool party trick.
I lift my brows, holding back a smirk as I prepare to shut him down. I see his cocky swagger, and raise him with one swish of my ponytail. Pushing the black frames of my glasses up the bridge of my nose, I jut out my chest and take a step forward to invade his personal space.
His body sways, almost as if he wants to lean into me and press his chest to mine, or maybe that’s the beer in his system.
“1,549 receptions. 2,895 receiving yards, and 208 touchdowns.” The words fly from my lips, the information easily extracted from my brain like from an index card. But something weird happens to my voice. Even to my own ears I hear the huskiness, and my breath grows shallow. “If your boy Julian tripled his stats today, he’d still come up short.” I suck in an inhalation and my breasts graze his solid chest. A surge of unwelcome lust passes through my veins as I deliver my final blow. “I feel sorry for your fantasy team.”
“Damn, McClain!” someone hoots from behind us. Vivacious laughter assaults my ears, along with a mix of insults and shouts of awe from our spectators as they realize I’m right.
“Chick’s a frickin’ sports Einstein.”
I bristle at the chick comment. Doesn’t matter most of these guys are in their late twenties and early thirties, they’re as sexist as the frat guys from the parties my best friends Alicia and Callie dragged me to when we attended VCU. We graduated this last May, but not much has changed. I’m still being dragged to parties, and men are still insensitive chauvinistic know-it-alls.
The only reason I’ve spent the last few hours guzzling cheap beer and making conversation with strangers is because I agreed to help Callie impress her new boyfriend, Chase, an arrogant peacock of a man. He’s a firefighter. Hell, most of the guys at this party likely share the same profession, and while several are nice to look at, the inherent sexism is almost too much to take. These guys aren’t my type. Even the man I’m having a verbal sparring match with, Chase’s much older brother Cam, is the complete opposite of what I go for.
Only, my body must have missed the memo because I’m experiencing an unfamiliar buzz of attraction. He’s a hulk of a guy, big and muscular, even if we are the same height. But it’s not so much his total hotness that catches my interest as it’s the way words sputter from his mouth. A mouth I have the urge to kiss. One that looks practiced in the ways of delivering pleasure. We’ve been debating sports for almost twenty minutes and I can’t believe I’ve allowed myself to be suckered into this argument, other than it feels a lot like foreplay.
“Dude, she’s fucking awesome!” Another of Cam’s friends slaps him on the back.
“You.” Cam’s golden brown eyes dance with humor, as if he’s just won when everyone in the room feels otherwise. That is, unless he’s some kind of a mind reader and knows I’m considering shoving him down the hall and shutting his stupid mouth with a heavy make out session. Fuck me. Did someone turn on the heat? “Making me look bad in front of my crew.”
Standing close enough to notice the sprinkle of white hairs hidden in the scruff of his beard and his generous laugh lines, I resist the urge to press my mouth to his. He’s even older than I thought. Still, he’s really handsome in a rugged, manly, knows-how-to-use-his-hands kind of way. Jesus. I shake my head to clear the naughty thoughts racing through my mind. What is my deal?
“Crew?” I furrow my brow in mock confusion before releasing a bright smile. “Oh, right. You play with fire, too?”
“Sometimes.” He’s confident. The man has swagger. “But usually we stick to putting them out.” His lips lift with the hint of a smile, as if he’s holding back a secret. One he might let me in on if I hand over my panties.
&n
bsp; My sex clenches. My nipples tighten and if this bra didn’t have a good half cup’s worth of padding they’d be saluting him right through the cotton fabric of my dress. My traitorous body sets women’s rights back at least a decade, and I hate myself a little for allowing him the power. Not that he knows it. Or maybe he does.
Fuck that.
Two of us can play this game.
“Oh? Do they let you hold the hose?”
His lips twitch as if he wants to laugh, but doesn’t. “Sometimes. Though usually it’s easier if someone else does.” He adjusts the front of his jeans. It’s either a subliminal move to get me to look at his junk, or a calculated one. It almost works, but I hold strong.
“Fuck.” He rubs his temple and his chuckle strokes the building desire in my core. “I need another beer.”
As he struts away, my victory should feel more like a win. Only without someone to argue with, I’m suddenly out of my element. Restless. Unsatisfied. The crowd we gathered goes back to their individual conversations. Some people begin to dance. Others meander toward the television to watch the next round of fights.
I lean back against my place on the wall and lift my beer to my lips, studying the party-goers in the standard apartment living room. There’s a fuck ton of people in here and it’s way past ten o’clock. The bass beat of the blaring music rattles my chest. I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t complained. I could never get away with this in my apartment. Then again, most of my neighbors are one step from a retirement home. I’m sure this place attracts a younger crowd what with it being so close to the university.
Alicia dances in the center of the room, making it her personal stage. Her hips swivel provocatively so her skirt lifts indecently high on her thigh. She’s such a fucking tease, and I’d probably hate her if she wasn’t one of my most loyal friends. She’s a little broken—aren’t we all—but she doesn’t try to hide her imperfections. I love that. She lives with an unapologetic freedom I admire. Like right now, she draws the gaze of every guy within ten feet just because she can.
Okay, almost every guy. Not Callie’s new man, which is kinda a relief. I’d all but pegged Chase for a selfish player, but he’s been completely into her tonight. No mixed signals. No playing it cool. Like now, the two are sickeningly sweet as she sits on his lap, his hand wrapped possessively around her hip as he talks shit with his buddies. She’s the perfect doting girlfriend, laughing, and offering her lips willingly when he steals kisses. I’m happy for her, even if their PDA makes me want to gag.
Or maybe that’s the warm beer churning in my belly from our earlier game of flip cup. Which I helped win. Who says college doesn’t teach real world skills? I was supposed to be DD tonight—that was the plan, but Callie wanted to impress her fire captain boyfriend with our flip cup skills. When we helped him beat Cam’s team, he all but jizzed himself. My friends and I were reigning flip cups champs at VCU, and apparently drinking games are like bicycles; doesn’t matter if it’s been six months or four years, I can still chug and flip like a champ.
Downside . . . we’ll have to Uber back.
Absently I wonder how much longer we have to stay. This isn’t really my scene. The macho, proud peacock man parade isn’t my catnip. I’m all about equality in a relationship, even if it’s only a casual hookup. It’s judgmental of me, but the guys at this party all seem as if they got stuck a few levels back on Darwin’s evolution chart. As if to prove my point, one of the guys watching the fights on television jumps from his seat on the couch and literally beats his chest. I glance away and bite back a laugh.
I might as well grab another drink; looks like we’ll be here a while. I slide through the crowd and make my way toward the kitchen where they’ve set up a makeshift bar.
“Aww . . . you missed me.” Cam’s smile greets me the second I step into the galley kitchen. He widens his stance, blocking me from reaching the fridge.
I roll my eyes. “I’m thirsty.”
“Yeah, you are.” He drags out the words and his lips widen with a grin. There’s that confidence again.
My body thrills with the promise of what he could offer. Stupid body. “No.” I pause to enunciate my annoyance, albeit feigned. “I’m really not. I need a beer.”
I am not here for a man, or a hookup. I’m turning over a new leaf. Trying to be a relationship kind of girl. I have another date tomorrow with one of my fellow interns at work. A third date, no less. Only, the thought of spending an evening with Preston doesn’t hold even a fraction of the thrill as the thought of dragging Cam back to one of the bedrooms.
“I got you.” Cam swings around and opens the fridge to grab a can from inside. He turns back and holds it up out of reach.
“If you think I’ll climb you for it, you’ve got the wrong woman,” I say dryly.
“No doubt.” But he doesn’t stop smiling as he hands over the beer. “Rematch? I need to reclaim my dignity.”
My brow scrunches with confusion as I pop the top to my can. “I’m not sure that’ll ever be possible. I’d bet your reputation was sullied years ago.”
“Flip cup. Come on.” He nods to my red cup, his gaze full of determination. “You and me. Right now.”
I shake my head and let loose a genuine laugh as I dump the contents of the can into my cup. “No way.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” He nudges my shoulder with his and drops his voice even though we’re the only two in the kitchen. “Don’t blame you. Hard to recreate a fluke.”
Umm . . . what?
“I’m sorry,” I say incredulously and not apologetic in the least. My spine prickles at his arrogant tone. “I don’t have anything to prove. You’re the one who threw a hissy fit when your team got their asses handed to them by a bunch of women.”
“Anomaly.” He shrugs his shoulders, staring back with challenge as he takes a sip from his beer. “Lucky break. Bet you couldn’t do it again.”
I set down my beer, my hands go to my hips, and I lift my chin. “And why’s that?”
He strokes the stubble of his jaw as if he’s considering my question. His eyes light up and meet my gaze. “Because everyone knows men are superior to women at drinking games.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Anger bubbles in my veins. My hands ball into fists. A brief moment passes between us, one in which I debate ripping that ignorant blank stare off his lips with a verbal lashing so harsh he’ll wish I kicked him in the balls. That, or letting loose a scream and storming out of the room before I smack him in the gut.
But before I do either, his brow lifts and the tight line of his pressed lips quivers. “Dude.” A chuckle escapes his mouth and his shoulders shake. “You should see your face right now.”
My irritation lightens. He’s fucking with me. Damn it, could I be more gullible? I refuse to laugh at his ruse. “Oh, so now you’re a comedian?”
His jovial laughter softens his eyes and takes away the big bad alpha vibe he’s been sporting this entire party. Not that I’ve been watching him. Okay, so maybe I have. But my interest has more to do with his brother dating my friend. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“You have to admit I almost had you.”
I almost had you. His words do something to my body, and my thighs press together with the idea of him having me in an intimate sense. Fuck. I’ve only had a few beers. I can’t blame alcohol on my impaired judgment. Why am I so attracted to this man? I roll my eyes to chase that bad idea from my mind. “So glad you find this amusing.”
His gaze flickers with interest and he leans one hip against the counter. “You’re not having a good time?”
I bite my lip as I decide whether to lie or tell the truth. Parts of tonight have been fun, but really I’ve only made the best of it because Callie needs me here. This isn’t my scene, never really was. “Not particularly.” I go with honesty.
“I know what’ll make it better.” He grabs my beer off the counter and hands it to me, a serious look on his face. “Come on.”
&nbs
p; But I’ve already fallen for his charades once tonight. “I don’t want to see your dick.”
“Sure you do.” He winks, then reaches up and tugs on the ponytail of my hair. By his goofy grin it’s not meant to be sexual, but fuck if it doesn’t make me wet. An image of him wrapping my long locks around his fist to arch my back while he fucks me from behind flashes into my consciousness. My body heats, my muscles tighten, and I have to glance away because I’m almost certain he’ll be able to read the dirty thoughts racing through my mind if I meet his gaze.
What is with this guy?
No, it’s not him. It’s me. My reaction is purely physical. That must be it. I’m sure if anyone pulled my ponytail I’d press my thighs together. Right?
I’m such a liar.
“Come on.” Cam’s deep chuckle rolls over me, not helping the lust situation one bit. “Who do you take me for, Jill? I don’t go around showing the big man to just anyone. He’s scared of strangers.”
There’s so much wrong with what he said, but I settle on the obvious. “Big man?” A guffaw escapes my mouth and my eyebrows shoot high.
“You’re a dirty bird, Jill. Stop thinking about my dick.” He winks and clamps his big paw of a hand around my fingers, tugging me to follow him out of the kitchen.
I sputter but a quick retort dies on my lips as he walks us through the party, completely ignoring the mix of cat calls and jeers as he moves toward the hallway.
Somewhere in the throng of people Alicia shouts, “Get some, Jilly!” Great. Now everyone thinks I’m hooking up with Cam.
In the hall, I yank my hand from his and stop short. “Where are we going? And what’s with the caveman act? I don’t appreciate being manhandled.”