by Frost, Sosie
Jack was no exception.
In the hot July morning, he shed his shirt and sweated with every completed rep of his crunches. He didn’t take a break or a breath before flipping onto his stomach and leading his men in a variety of push-ups that only tightened every muscle in his absolutely flawless form.
His entire body was ripped, bulging with muscles, tattoos, glistening sweat.
Perfect.
I forced myself to remember that the striking body I admired belonged to the arrogant and infuriating man who dared to tangle with me.
He was lucky he was so damn big—one of the largest quarterbacks in the league. If he were just one foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter…I might have taken the chance to stomp really hard on his toes.
The rookies collapsed against the turf. An offensive lineman fell too. Jack counted off another five one-armed pushups before letting his men groan against the field. Now was my chance.
“Jack.”
The bastard grinned like he won the lottery while getting blown by a porn star. He waved.
He made no attempt to move. The entire offense stared at me like I was a piece of meat Jack was about to drag back to his cave. I was so glad my skirt was knee-length and respectable.
“Jack? I need to talk to you.” I smiled at the quarterback coach consulting with his other specialized personnel. He shrugged—that same hopeless resignation the coaches shared when Jack Carson was causing a scene. “Please?”
He leaned to the player next to him, the team’s real criminal and the absolute worst influence on Jack. Bryon Washington was a gifted running back, but if he wasn’t careful, he’d spend the best years of his career behind bars—where he belonged. He and Jack laughed like I was the punchline to their own secret joke. Bryon whistled and outlined my figure with a wave of his hand.
Enough of this.
“Jack-ass! Come here!”
The team hooted. Jack rose to his feet. “The little woman calls. See the shit I put up with?”
“Now.”
“I pay her to abuse me like this.”
“Not nearly enough.”
Jack took long strides to reach me, his signature swagger. He wasn’t flirting. He was baiting me, like he always did. Waiting for the moment I’d snap and he’d have his fun.
It ended now.
“Hey, Kiss.”
Jack sauntered before me. He rubbed the sweat from his face with a towel, but he didn’t bother to cover his chest. I wasn’t used to seeing him without a shirt, and I tried my hardest to not admire the dozens of tattoos and colorful ink cradling his muscles. It was just another reminder of his misbehavior and arrogance and how unbelievably built he was…
His voice rumbled deep inside me. “Couldn’t stand to be away from me?”
My eyes snapped up to his. I cleared my throat. “We need to talk.”
“Uh-oh.” He got off on teasing me, but at least he wasted billable time. “Trouble at home, Mrs. Carson?”
He laughed, that cocky baritone always at my expense. I forced him away from the field. He followed me to the tunnels leading from the grass to the locker room. The practice facility was too busy for this kind of talk—coaches and staff and players beginning their workouts. Half the team funneled between the field and the recently renovated, two-story weight room. I had to keep my voice down. That only encouraged Jack to tease my temper.
He stretched his arms, every motion bulging muscle on top of muscle. “Think we could talk inside? I’m kinda bruised from the accident. We could sit in the spa tub together.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Would you prefer the hot tub in our honeymoon suite?”
I poked a finger into his chest, instantly regretting touching his heated, fiercely defined body. A shiver trembled from the tip of my finger all the way through me, centering in a very wrong place.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” I said.
Jack glanced me over, amused. “I got us out of trouble.”
“No. You got you out of trouble. You put me in the middle of all of this!”
He provoked me with an impish arch of his eyebrows. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you? Come on, Kiss. I’m a great catch.”
“I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend.”
“So…you wanna be my real girlfriend?”
“Screw you, Jack. Can you be serious for ten seconds?”
“Who says I wasn’t serious, Kiss?”
Enough of this. “For like, one minute, can you possibly think about anyone other than yourself or your little play-maker?”
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 cro
ssed. 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.